A rather sickly sweet record that at times will have you reaching for the sick bucket, but during more blessed times you'll be admiring yet possibly with reluctance. Extreme irritate with the pumping 'Get The Funk Out', vocalist Gary Cherone attempting to become the next funk lord but coming across as a bad imitation of Mr Kiedis from the Peppers. This is a strange record, the bands second, an overly long yet bombastic affair that propelled the band to great heights with their solid brand of rock that wasn't cheesy enough to fit into the hair metal bracket, but instead sweep up a huge audience by way of sweeping ballads, some real rock out numbers and the occasional chart hit, but there's a great deal of diversity on here even if I'm not so sure as to who the band think they are or if this is some kind of perfectly natural sound, or something manufactured, but whatever the case, there is almost a feel of stadium super-stardom here,some real pop gems on offer sitting in-between one or two unexpected crunchers, somehow coming up trumps but leaving me bemused, because 'Porno...' lacks the mysticism of say a Jane's Addiction, the streetwise grit of Warrior Soul and certainly are no match for the scary schizophrenia of Faith No More, but somehow Extreme bridge that gap between the alternative and the mainstream but not once are they able to become a cool cult act, because when you hear the slow movers on offer here, especially 'Hole Hearted', 'Song For Love' and mega hit 'More Than Words', you'll want to cringe but probably find yourself singing along instead, knowing full well that it's a lot more credible than Mr. Big, and the dynamics of the band make for a real potent fusion of soulful rock and colour-spattered metal.
Extreme really had something, and it made for bizarre listening because through all its mainstream qualities and faceless pomp, 'Porno..' really was, and still is a good rock record.
8/10
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