STEEL PANTHER
All You Can Eat
Open E Music (2014)
Rating: 7.5/10
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I was getting concerned that the Steel Panther joke was wearing a bit thin. Mind you, I don’t really see how these guys can win. If they attempt to play serious yet tongue-in-cheek metal, then they’ll probably be accused of “selling out”. If they resort to parody throughout, on the other hand, then no-one will take them seriously, and they’ll probably be blamed for bringing the metal genre down.
But anyway, All You Can Eat is the third instalment in Steel Panther’s colourful career. It could be argued that these guys, despite the wigs, bad spandex and constant references to other songs, have kept the metal flame burning. Many detractors will state that Spinal Tap, Bad News, and the little known Skrapp Mettle (from 1991) did this all before, but as we all know with music, it’s often about cycles.
In a sense, the tomfoolery of Steel Panther and their highly popular debut proper, Feel The Steel (2009), was a much needed kick up the arse for metal in that the genre had begun to take itself too seriously. With thrash and glam / sleaze metal back in a big way, it seems that the Los Angeles-based band have a right to be here, whatever your opinion.
Michael Starr (vocals), Satchel (guitars), Lexxi Foxx (bass) and Stix Zadinia (drums) haven’t quite outstayed their welcome, as yet. As an acoustic trickle leads us into the opening ‘Pussywhipped’, I’m reminded as to why Steel Panther still bring a wry smile to some of our faces. Riff-wise it’s classic, crystal clear metal as Starr barks, “The gays are here but you ain’t anywhere in sight…” as Satchel provides the oomph with those stirring melodies and crisp solos. Despite the lyrics of course there’s that feeling that Steel Panther want to carve a whole career out of this carry-on metal – these guys are obviously very talented musicians who are slowly outgrowing the mockery, however.
Musically, it’s high gloss metal with the archetypal structures and dazzling dynamics which gave a majority of bands a career back in the 80s. On the opening track the band aren’t afraid to get heavy either, but despite it being a decent track, musically it’s not one of Panther’s most memorable tunes.
‘Party Like Tomorrow Is The End Of The World’ is more like the Steel Panther we’ve come to know and love over the years. It’s a gloriously goofy glam rock anthem introduced by way of Starr’s velvety cry of “Have sex” amid a struttin’ guitar and steady drum plod. In a sense, it’s just Poison / Mötley Crüe / Kiss / Van Halen et al rolled into one as Starr yells, “The end of the world is coming, what the hell are we gonna do?” It’s the usual lyrical naivety to appeal to the goofball masses, and it’s the kind of metal you don’t really need to think too much about.
“There’s a hole in the wall where you put your cock and balls,” yells Starr with ‘Gloryhole’, a raunchy, punchy number which has little effect on the brain. Like literally every other Steel Panther song before, it rocks pretty hard, but does lack the infectious nature of a majority of the party anthems which featured on the debut opus. ‘Bukakke Tears’ sighs into motion like one of those late night radio rock tracks; think Whitesnake circa ‘Is This Love’ (1987) as the track builds and simmers. This is where Steel Panther shine, with their ability to provide a shimmering rhythm caressed by a hilarious lyric. Stranger still when one attends their gigs to see thousands of grown men singing such absurd and sexual lyrics to one another!
‘Gangbang At The Old Folks Home’ – one of the album’s beefiest tracks – features a killer solo from Vivian Campbell (Def Leppard), while ‘Ten Strikes You’re Out’ is pure Van Halen in its jaunty behaviour. ‘The Burden Of Being Wonderful’ is the expected hair metal ballad of pumping synths, steady strings and Starr’s lustful swagger of “Why, in a world of ugly faces, should I be allowed to be so hot?”, meanwhile. It’s the sort of track we just knew was coming, yet found ourselves tapping along to immediately.
‘Fucking My Heart In The Ass’, ‘B.V.S.’ and ‘You’re Beautiful When You Don’t Talk’ are rather standard fare as again the joke begins to wear off, but the last two tracks on the album are perkier. ‘If I Was King’ has a playful Crüe-type jig about it and closer ‘She’s On The Rag’ – with its cosmic plod – is quick to commentate on the menstruation cycle of women over a sprightly guitar and powerhouse drum.
Of course, once All You Can Eat has run out of smut and the cheesy layers have dripped to the floor, we’re still left with a solid rock album that boasts enough quality musicianship to keep the fans happy and the detractors disgruntled.
Neil Arnold
