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Sweden’s
reining kings of slash n’ burn rattlesnake rock sit still long enough to
bang out a full length of speed, fire and headbanging cock rock. Making full
use of stereophonics (circa 1966, but still) the twin guitars are neatly
split between left speaker (Jocke, who also bellows out the trash and
fury vox like he’s getting chased down an alley by knife wielding hoodlums)
and right speaker (Bobby Dawn), but since only one speaker in my 93
Ford Tempo actually works, I can only surmise that this sounds
absolutely bitchin’, if you can afford the luxury of stereo. Even in crackly
mono, this one’s a motherfucker, fulla witchy flash metal riffs deep fried
in arena rock flourishes and whipped out at motorpunk speed. “I’m Ready”
is KISS, “Destroyer” version, if Gene was
Lemmy and Paul actually had a pair of balls stuffed into his
spandex; “All You Jazz” is a Hellacopters/Skid Row
grudge match with plenty of bleeding foreheads and a broken nose or two; “Kitten
Natividad” is stoner rock played by homicidal stalkers, “Lick My
Flames” is a ballsy, fist pumping sleaze rock anthem, and their cover of
the Kenny Rogers/Dolly Parton hit “Islands in the Stream”
sounds just like the Sex Pistols, moments before they all beat each
other to death. There ain’t no guesswork involved in Rickshaw (well,
maybe the title “Point of Oranges” warrants a little head
scratching), that’s for sure. The fuckers call their album “Sonic
Overload”, and that’s exactly what they give you here. The only
was this record could be any more rock is if Rickshaw
themselves pulled up on Harleys to hand it to you. And then maybe punch you
in the face and drag your woman off to join their cabal of gypsy strippers.
That might be too rock, tho, I dunno.
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