Toronto's stickytoffeechocolatencoca-colafizzcrazed glittergaunt heroes Crash Kelly slip a deceptive tequila twist in your otherwise perfect cocktail 'cos they know that that little tiny bit extra ain't gonna detract from a taste so silky and sweet...ly reminiscent of so much it could make you crazy trying to follow where they lead back to, but as it is you really don't care, you just hit spin again and bask in instant fat zip gun riffs like a cross between Mott saxes and a scallies attempt at souping up their 'bikes exhaust; mouthwatering kaleidoscopicpsych-glam-metallic melodies not a hairspray slug away from Enuff Z'Nuff without the Floyd-Rose locking trem divebomb overload and in the same comet-tail as fellow Canadian workout king at the glam gym Robin Black, but with better songs perhaps fitting Kelly's session muso past; an atmosphere so sun-drenched and warm as the hazy sunset lovelastic Les Paul sustain as long as a Cadillac and lingering like good wine on a connoisseurs tongue and ultimately songs that slip and slither like 'The Slider' of old, just souped up on the sash, dash, swagger and the lash...perhaps a glam-central Supersuckers...the cosmic hip inheritor of Bolan's babbling brook (indeed, check the cover), tho tis tempered with a sense of, well, sense, really, lacking as it does much of Britain's favourite elfin bohemian's brash and beautifully worded scattergun bullshit and Mott the Hoople's uncombed, unwashed edge of where Ian? Dickensian school play stage theatrics ('Love Me Electric' is tipping a pretty hat to Hunter in its self-mythologising, heralding the homecoming of "Shocker! Shocker! Mr Glam Rocker, Picture Hanging Down From Every Schoolgirls Locker" while also having it's tongue planted firmly cheekward in also pastiching the very same, the great line "Watch me grow fat when you meet me backstage") - so we get to play host to a most welcome crowd featuring among its preening posse the 'Suffragette Silhouette', 'Jealousy Junky' and the 'Alligator Queen of the B-Movie scene', then  cruise around with our bard of the boulevards, breathing out these tales with a pleasingly smoky Jameson's jag-jaundiced voice. Mr Kelly and co have more of a street style and visceral vagabond vibe than the days of yore that they partly hark back to.

There's a hardened Hollywood haunted shell on these soft, chewy nuggets for sure. Welding Bolan's heartening, heart-warming and at times heartbreaking melodies with early KISS struttin' (especially on the elegiac, eulogistic 'Movie'), offcuts of Cheap Trick, Alice Cooper and Slash meets Bill and Ted listening to Lizzy's 'Jailbreak' album air guitar wailing (the effective, evocatively sentimental 'Irish Blessing'95') and even, quite cleverly and amusingly, smoking a load of pure pollen pot then playing Bon Jovi's 'Bad Medicine' riff for 'You Don't Know', a defiant hand on heart on shoulder statement of intent of sorts ('Judgment based upon the gear I wear, You think you know me from mistakes I made, but I just don't think you like the cut of my hair') which is admirable and applaudable and much to agree with there, if not a tad obvious...anyway, all this together, Crash Kelly have crafted a hell of a dreadnought drubbing debut - assured; confident without seeming like annoying jerks as seemed to happen to lotsa Hollywood-esque wanna-be bands, this can be played over and again, which may mean it's instantly forgettable and disposable but that didn't do Queen any harm in Freddie Mercury's famous line...and anyway this is only Rock'n'Roll we're talking about here, it's all in the real-time moment, and the minute the bubble bursts, well I guess they'll bloody well blow another one better than before. This is one gum I hope retains its flavour.

Fucking hard to pick flaming stars, stand-outs, bow-takers and hat-tippers here, in a record that's parceled up like an assortment box of confectionary and every one's your favourite...an aural 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' almost. The ludicrously loved-up title track makes you miss your good lady whilst simultaneously groovin' round your room in her honour - 'That girl she's like a solar system'; '11 Cigarettes' a panoramic paean to first / unrequited love is right on a par with Big Star's sublime '13' and The Faces 'Debris', say, and features the line 'I smiled the smile you smile when you're about to cry', which will almost make you do just that and is quite lip-quiveringly beauteous and polite with it; 'Wanna Be Like You' is a Pluto bound piledriver, which weirdly reminds me of Aztec Camera's 'Somewhere In My Heart', 'Movie' for the reasons mentioned above, and instrumental 'Something Hollywood' which has anappropriately diizzzying death-ride atmosphere, carnival twists n turns taking you on a trip thru' the sleaze n the splendour, boobjobs n' blowjobs, strippers, strutters and starlets, harlots, hookers, the hooked and you guessed it...the fucked.