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You're probably
going to be a little skeptical of what I'm about to tell you, but
it's true: I will go into shock and die if anybody releases an album
this year with a stronger opening number than "Let It Roar," which
kicks off Unholy Terror, the new album from '80s metal
survivors W.A.S.P. You heard me: W.A.S.P. If you remember them at
all, it's probably because you recall Tipper Gore singling them out
by name at the infamous PMRC hearings, citing their
circular-saw-coming-through-a-codpiece 7-inch picture-disc "Animal (I
F*ck Like A Beast)" as a sure sign that society was going to hell in
a handbasket. And while it's true that a little notoriety sells a few
records — in the short run, W.A.S.P. gained more from the PMRC's
wrath than they lost — the other side of that coin is that it's
hard to get yourself taken seriously if your first taste of public
notice comes in on a wave of unmerited hysteria. W.A.S.P. made a few
great metal albums in the 1980s, including a masterpiece called
The Headless Children that featured the best cover of a Who
song by anyone ever, a blistering rendition of "The Real Me" blazing
with an incandescent rage hotter than Pete Townshend had ever
imagined. Nobody noticed, though, outside of people who'd liked
W.A.S.P. all along, and nobody listens to us anyway because they
assume we're all being ironic or something. Whatever. Anyhow,
Unholy Terror is one of the best rock albums you're going to
hear this year, if you'll only go out of your way to hear it. Lead
man Blackie Lawless is still pissed off about all that PMRC business,
and he levels his semi-coherent aim mainly at flag-waving patriots
and self-righteous Christians; true, most of his lyrics are fairly
lame, but when he fuses a great hook with a sing-along line, as he
does in "Loco-Motive Man," he puts his finger on the dark,
frightening pulse that beats in the heart of all great rock 'n' roll.
"I've gone to meet my maker," he howls in triple-tracked splendor,
his band chugging away alongside him like Golden Earring grooving
behind a case of Night Train and a whole lot of Kool-Aid. Its guitars
are like self-contained hurricanes. Mercifully free of power ballads,
"Unholy Terror" makes a person say "Wow!" on a whole bunch of
different levels.
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