White Reaper shed their searing, bratty punk skin on this unexpected turn towards 70's big-riff rock, channeling the likes of Thin Lizzy, Sweet, and Kiss. From the kinda-great album title, to the crowd noise on the opening track, you're ready to imagine every power-stance solo and fist-pumping stomp blasting over an arena of thousands. Which's strange for a band that seemed destined for Great Scott greatness (where they were great!) at best.
The result's weirdly British, borderline The Darkness in its shamelessness, but without a sliver of irony. It's a fun direction, just disorienting, especially because it never quite actually escapes its scuzzy divebar gravity - those twiggy guitars and strained shouts're more desperate than dominant, more world-worn than world-conquering. It could be a brilliant combination that we're just not quite ready for, but I'm getting there 4/5
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