The Erotics
All That Glitters Is Dead (Cacophone)

Cancel my Gold Circle subscription to Al Goldstein's Screw Magazine. There's a new organized criminal in the waste-management industry, a wonderfully insipid and lurid steamroller of obsession and psychosis. You never could take Erotics frontman Mike Trash anywhere. Hell, you can't even dress him up, but give him six strings and 60 bucks for bail and watch what happens.

A certain fatalistic, sci-fi porn sensibility is the platform for All That Glitters Is Dead, from the anthemic choruses of "Supermodel Suicide" and "Only Girl for Me" (an incognito version of the band's infamous "Helen Keller") to the rapacious hooks of "Bullet" and "Star-Spangled and Beaten." Trash has finally given up on the idea of a lead guitarist and has assumed those chores himself, his smudgy junkie's voice an abrasive slur over the murderous hail of his Les Paul. Bassist Bil (that's not a typo) Dolan, a killer guitarist in his own right, anchors Trash to planet Earth with flawless nickel-plated steel rumbling through the crossfire while Mickey King dutifully whaps the skins à la Tommy Ramone. Infamous for hiring career felons and sociopaths, Trash seems to have found some stability in this current lineup, and it shows here in the details.

It's easy to categorize the Erotics as a glam outfit, what with the oozing mascara eyeballs and all, but to me it's just rock & roll that can blow the chrome off a tailpipe at 50 paces. Virtuosos? Oh god no. But All That Glitters . . . is as brash and subversive as it gets, while maintaining that curious, infectious listenability, one that dances with hookers, wrestles with troopers and performs unspeakable acts at the rest stop. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

—Bill Ketzer