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Finally,
Boston spews up the kinda bile it deserves- a bonafide cock n’ roll
inferno of sleaze, spit and bad intentions. The Kari Nations like
drugs and hardcore porn and blood and mayhem and all the things that make
life worth leaving, and they celebrate it shamelessly, like amphetamine
ripped bikers in a lingerie factory, on the utterly bitchin’ and completely
mandatory “American Standards”. Stylistically, they are thigh deep in
the dirty stuff- Motorcycle Boy, Gunfire Dance, the Dead
Boys, Shotgun Messiah, The Dwarves, The Lanternjack,
Faster Pussycat, Motley Crue in their fingerless glove daze,
Alice Cooper circa ‘72 - and even if you CAN play ‘name that
riff’ all night and halfway into tomorrow on this ‘un, “American
Standards” comes off more as a faithful homage to the filth and fury
than any kind of cheapjack rip-off. “Abominations” grabs half a
Who lick and twists into a particularly bloody flash metal suicide, “She’s
the Gun”, with snarly vocals from bass player Nikki Core, is
nasty, stack-heeled slut rock, and “Ready for the Blast” is a vicious
glam punk gang bang with a thunder rock riff that sounds like it’s gonna
knock down yr door and kick you in the teeth. And hell, that’s only three
outta ten. Hands down, and without question, the Kari Nations are the
most exciting rock and roll band to crawl from the wreckage of the Boston
rock scene since Rock City Crimewave. Trust me, I’m a pro at this
kind of thing. See them, feel them, fuck them, do whatever they tell you to-
cock rock is back, sinner, and it’s name is the Kari Nations.
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