Album Review: The Darkness, Pinewood Smile

What is humanity's greatest achievement? Language? The Voyager mission? The internet? Forget all that shit and kneel before The Darkness. Recall Voyager, replace that crappy gold record with this one, and let alien races shudder at how much arse our species can truly kick.

This masterpiece allows one to feel a little of what those monkey men in 2001: A Space Odyssey must have, when confronted with that big black yoke from outer space. If the current axis of arseholes do succeed in killing us all, well, we'll always have Paris. And this record. Preferably in Paris. With a gaggle of young ones, and old Beaujolais wine.

Ever listened to Queen and thought, "this is alright, I suppose, but I'd prefer something a bit more over the top"? Well, think no more! Literally, stop thinking! But before you do, acknowledge Roger Taylor's son, Rufus Tiger Taylor (yes, his real name), on drums - for what other royal rock bloodline could boast the refinement and breeding necessary to steer The 'Ness?

Wordsworthian couplets like "Stone cold foxes screaming in the front row/ Sacred promise of fellatio", and song titles such as 'Buccaneers Of Hispaniola', 'Japanese Prisoner Of Love' and 'Lay Down With Me, Barbara' warrant the Ivor Novello, the Jules Rimet, lifetime membership of Aosdána, your first born. Just give them fucking everything!

A lethal combination of Lizzy style harmony guitars and the high pitched vocals of a young Robert Plant with his balls in a vice, I should really review it using the Richter scale. If you hear a more rockin' record this year, this century, I will gladly surrender my Son-Of-Snort ceremonial cock ring.

∞/10
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