Review Summary: Cum On, Eat it Up, Pussy
Steel Panther's inherent charm comes directly from the fact that they quite clearly love the genre they so brilliantly spoof. It's one thing to offensively rip off hair metal in light of it not being 'real' music, but it would not seem as sincere nor half as funny if it was done by an indie pop band attempting to establish their ironic style.
That, and we could always do with some more dick jokes tossing about in the ether.
With that established, Steel Panther's third effort isn't musical progression, rather a step further into the filthy and dirty direction being hinted at (read: shouted about) on
Balls Out. Brandishing all sorts of censored stickers in most markets,
All You Can Eat is humour regressing and becoming more vulgar as euphemisms are traded in for blatantly offensive rhetoric. Take "Party Like Tomorrow is the End of the World", the greatest song Def Leppard never wrote (right next to "The Burden of Being Wonderful"), urging girls to party because 'the end of the world is coming/and you should be cumming too'.
Yep.
The fact this album is set with a perverted gem like 'every dude wants to *** whenever he can/you can't blame a dude/‘cos a dude is a man' is just further reason to grin ear to ear like a pubescent 12 year old giggling at the word 'nipples'.
There's not much really in lyrical variety, and if you're easily offended it goes without saying that this may not be your type of thing- without a doubt though, black humour enthusiasts will be digging the dirtiness. On "BVS", it's lamented that 'Big vagina syndrome is becoming a common disease', calling Geldof to some of life's bigger issues. 'Gonna blow my load at the Gloryhole!' shouts Michael Starr during "Gloryhole", leaving little to the imagination when it comes to sexual deviance. When it comes to emotionally reading your girl, Starr knows it's hard when 'there was so much love on your face/I couldn't see the tears'. Yeats this is not- regardless, it's refreshing to hear a band whose lyrics aren't in dire need of analysis, the deepness of their words only plummeted by their depraved genitalia and
not a journalists' discomfort without reasoning musical appreciation. The fact of the matter is I've never laughed as heartedly listening to music as I have here, and to tell the truth it feels ***ing
brilliant.
Eternally tasteless, sexist, homophobic, macho, intentionally unappealing and immediately dated. The joke will wear thin one day; today is not that day.
