Rock n’ roll: a simple enough formula that, done well, is simply un-fucking-beatable. Strange, then, that so often it falls flat on its blasted arse. Boozed (duh!) synthesis something like forty years’ worth of great music and reduce it down into something shockingly anodyne, despite all the constituent parts theoretically being in the right place. Blame it on the slightly-overdone sneers or the heavy-handed sheen of the production, but each three-minute slice of alleged rawk here just sputters out and falls way goddamn short of anything near excitement, coming across like a Boozed have only managed a depressingly empty wank despite all their desperate tugging.
