Like the band name, like the album title, not sure about the overall sound, a somewhat predictable sleaze mixture of LA Guns, Crue and Faster Pussycat except the fact that vocal siren Sally Cato has more meat to her voice than Taime Downe, Vince Neil and Phil Lewis put together, but whether that's enough to save the album from mediocrity is the main issue. This is ballsy rodeo rock, some big choruses, plenty of tattoo love and whiskey whining, some decent bluesy-ballsy riffs from Bart Lewis and Roger Lane, and an air of sincerity about the whole thing. The band were signed to the Elektra label so there must've been something which the majors noticed, and it probably exists in the Crue blast of 'Hard To Swallow', and sweaty '17 Goin On Crazy', but 'Legs Up' is almost cringe worthy, like a country 'n' western cum metal jig that almost drifts into Status Quo's 'Rockin All Over The World', but it is the voice of Sally Cato which saves the day although despite her oomph there are the occasional strays into drive time rock, ala a more metallic Heart and the likes, often too cliched to be cool.
Certainly not a record you'll be playing every day, but enough Rolling Stones twangs and Faces drunkenness to keep you lukewarm for half an hour or so.
6.5/10
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