Music reviews. CD reviews. Critically hip!

Title sums it up nicely — “American Steel,” or this discontented, pure bred, fast and easy Rock n’ Roll animal roaming wherever the fuck it wants.  Driven by three chords, a taste for blood, and kick in the balls, their sixth record probably sounds much like their first—face it, there’s nowhere to go (“Vertigo?  Vertigo-go…” sorry, couldn’t help it, the tune just stands out, and I hope I don’t find out why!).  

For those who took the pledge from day one, it’s in yer blood and you either play it or you don’t; It’s hell bent and self-destructive, Stooges-centered, off-centered, “Rocket to Russia” underground thunder rehash, hash-pipe, get a little crazy, look cool, cop a Stones’ riff, swear, sweat, and sting the motherfuckin’ bass for extra payload, and give ya a rollin’ tumblin’ Rock n’ Roll monster truck ready to roll over the satellites from Georgia or whatever other shirt collared, short panted sorry assed sucker that wags a finger at ‘em for quitting their day jobs at the mill.  

“American Steel’s” fourteen tracks are factory bred fist pounders built on a Chevy Nova frame and frayed fuzz tones with a rebel yell, slick fingers, cheap thrills, licks and Turbonegro cover, with no great desire to change the world or their underwear.  

These guys got the goods, even if they ain’t got a dime to their name. Somewhere, somehow, between them, and the hundred million or so of their previous other connections, there’s still a few malcontents out there who wanna hear about scowling owls, germs, Godzilla, cheap green wine, and “Doctor Rat And Dan The Bowl” when the needle begins to rise.