New American Shame

New American Shame

New American Shame


My beloved girlfriend wholeheartedly believes a commercial resurgence of gritty rock ‘n’ roll is upon us, and I’m beginning to agree with her, even if Buckcherry unceremoniously have to be the flag bearers of this coup.

Case in point: New American Shame’s self-titled debut. Sure, the band’s look is a bit more “updated” and concurrent with modern (read: MTV) standards for “rockers,” but, really, New American Shame rocks like prime Stones by-the-way-of prime Aerosmith by-the-way-of the LA Guns of the late ’80s. However, this is 1999, not 1988, so such derivation is applaudable and even welcomed, if only such bands would bogart the Guns’ look. Then I wouldn’t mind watching MTV and witnessing a new teeny-bop explosion that celebrates the virtues of rock ‘n’ roll, pyrotechnics, sex, Satan-flirtation, eyeliner, and all.

In the meantime, I’ll wait for New American Shame and the like to get sick and wiry off heroin, shop at Hollywood Boulevard leather shops, and cop more of an attitude before I invest an interest. But considering their fanbase is/will be comprised of kids too young to remember Poison or those older sorts too chemically addled to think back that far, they’ll probably be laughing all the way to the bank before you can say “Aqua Net-addicted hair extension.”

Will, 1122 E. Pike, Suite 511, Seattle, WA 98122,

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