Let us gather together friends and think back to times past. A time when the loon pant was the fashion of choice for every aspiring rock god. An age where the guitar solo was revered not reviled, feet stamped righteously on monitors. An era when no drummer would leave home without a gong. But what is this approaching on the horizon? Could it be that a group of men from the pits of Suffolk are about to bestride the globe like the heroes of a glorious bygone era?
The signs are indeed promising. Opening blast 'Black Shuck' features vocalist Justin Hawkins sounding like Percy Plant being tortured on the rack while his baby brother Dan plays the grinding riff from 'Enter Sandman'. And then it happens - utterly ludicrous falsetto vocals recounting a tale of swords and sorcery. And it is utterly magical.
Listen closer, for it just gets better. On the second song, Sir Justin squeals "Get your hands offa my woman motherf*cker" while his cohorts play merry hell. 'Growing On Me' is almost (whisper it now) 'a pop song' but is rescued by some resounding rock harmonies. 'I Believe In A Thing Called Love' brings more joyous bounty in the shape of another wondrous guitar solo and more throat contortionism. But what's this? It's 'Love Is Only A Feeling', a song in a style that used to be termed a "power ballad" and was practised by ancient men with large hair like Rainbow and Whitesnake.
'Givin' Up' is perhaps the most hilarious song about heroin ever, set to a stompin' glam beat while the lyrics of 'Friday Night' are like 'Grease' set in Lowestoft: "I've got ping pong on Wednesday/Needlework on Thursday/Dancing on a Friday night". And calling a song 'Love On The Rocks With No Ice' is a stroke of genius even if the track itself, a fairly tame (by Darkness standards) mid-paced rocker, doesn't live up to the title. Finally, closer 'Holding My Own' masquerades itself as a classic stadium lighters-in-the-air ballad but is actually one of the greatest odes to onanism (The 'four knuckle shuffle' - verbose Ed) ever penned.
And that's your lot. Ten tracks that roll back the years and bring on the tears of laughter. Vocals trill, guitars squeal, drums are hit very hard. This is rock with a big fat drunken grin scrawled over its face in lurid red lipstick. Give me a D, give me an Arkness. Either get the joke or get out of the way.
by Simon P Ward