Reviews

Demolition Doll Rods

That's Demolition, as in reducing things to rubble; Doll, as in a hot drummer chick on a stand-up kit; and Rods, as in kiss my double entendre. The family Doll Rod has been available to get naked and make a jolly shambles of wedding receptions, bar mitzvahs, and kiddie birthday parties since 1993, launching its career by stumping at a Vietnam veterans' dive in Detroit (a blatant suicide attempt that later led to a stint on tour with Iggy Pop). The only freshness here will be observed by those who've never heard a New York Dolls record. Over Rolling Stones claptrap mutilated by chain-saw fuzz and boombox production, singer/guitarist Margaret Doll Rod unleashes torrents of who's-your-daddy hooker banter, making like a Janis Joplin who has loosened her few remaining screws. This is less a case of one song being better than the other than varying degrees of over-the-top rock posturing that make Zodiac Mindwarp look like John Ashcroft warbling about eagles and freedom.

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Eric W. Saeger