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I hate it when people say things like this, but I liked the old Foxy Shazam better. This “poor man’s Queen” thing is an older brother’s shirt they’re just embarrassing themselves by trying to wear. Like, I really tried as hard as I possibly could, but I just didn’t like a single one of these songs. If this is what the Church of Rock ‘n Roll is supposed to sound like, I’ll sleep in on Sundays.
This album is the kind of absent minded excess that used to be called rock n’ roll…and it delivers the goods in more ways than one. If you got high to Exile Main Street, put on eyeliner to Ziggy Stardust or learned “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen on a toy piano, this record is everything you’ve ever loved encapsulated in one, neon doused band. There’s no deep politics or Radiohead variety experimentation. This is just what it needs to be, a stellar stroll through the seventies racked to the core with wonderfully over indulgent lyrics and campy, hook laden riffs. All hail.