Super 8 Cumshot – Volume II
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Chicago Superpop sexbombs Super 8 Cumshot answer that oft (well, ok…not oft) asked question - what if Urge Overkill had a buncha gay cousins who rocked just as much, only they sang about stuff like the joys of prison rape and falling in love with dudes that drive Volvos? Well, I already told ya what would happen, so let us freak freely with this pack o’ pink rawk powerhouses on a rollicking, porno-obsessed, 11 track sex party. Grab your ankles.

Storming opener “I Love a Boy” shoots off like a flaming (ahem) rocket, blasting into the stratosphere in a fucksplosion of thunderous glampunk chug and berserk testifyin’ vox courtesy the very Danko Jones-eque phlegmball superstar Jinx Titanic. It sounds for all the world like UK supersoul shakers Gold Blade, if Gold Blade were as gay as they are macho. “I Love a Boy” is disarming, hilarious, and absolutely ass kicking, all at once, and it is at this point where you decide whether yr strapping in (ahem) for a wild ride on the Cumshot Express, or yr gonna be one of those drippy homophobe types and go back to wrestling shirtless dudes in Pantera moshpits. If your sticking around, dig the crazed party-punk singalong “Everybody Loves a Muscle Boi” (not true, but the way- straight guys hate muscle boys), with it’s Gary Glitter “yeah-yeahs-yeahs” and it’s Pistols-gone-pop guitar riffs. It sounds like something John Waters wrote during a drunken bubble bath, and even though lines like “Who cares if there’s nothing upstairs/He looks good in his underwear” seem better suited for, I dunno, old Julie Brown songs, S8 deliver ‘em with enough conviction that I half expect the dudes from the Muscle Beach Party movies to come bursting through the door. Then there’s the ultra-mega boner anthem “I Wanna Make Love to You”, a giddy ode to the simple pleasures of getting it on, wrapped around a big barking superriff, a bitchin’, snake-hipped Johnny Thunders solo, and lines like “I don’t wanna make love to your tribal tattoos/I don’t wanna make love if it’s gonna bruise”. Oh yeah, and it briefly, and seamlessly, turns into that Betty Boop song. If this ‘un doesn’t provoke you into gettin’ friendly with the next sexy thing in your path, then you must just not like to fuck. It’s like a long lost “Rock n Roll Juggernaut”-era Meatmen song, if Tesco was really gonked on Ecstasy, and it just slays, man. And, as befitting these sexed-out dandies, the album closes with a classic dose of honky-tonking glamgospel, “There’s a Porn Star Shining Down on Me”, which gave me visions of Austin O’Riley with wings and a halo, winking lasciviously and tossing around hundred dollar bills like confetti. Which is a damn good vision, daddy-o.

I suppose it would be pointless to mention the similar stylistic threads ‘tween these cats and gayglam bands of yore like Buffalo’s Sissybar and Boston’s Peecocks, since you have no idea who those boy-fuckers are; so lemme just say that if you like Cheap Trick and Turbonegro in equal measure- and you do- then yer gonna love Super 8 Cumshot. Unless you’re a pansy, maybe.
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