Remember how lame it was
when that old tart David Coverdale decided to add the fashionista of fret-wankery
Steve Vai - whose sole contribution to music was a shit guitar with a handle
on it - to the Whitesnake line-up? Remember his overblown overplaying on a re-recorded
classic that had been performed more than adequately by the decidedly less handsome
fingers of messrs Moody and Marsden? That was a warning of what happens when
the worlds of rock 'n' roll and the guitar hero collide.
I bought a ticket once for a concert by bloated buffoon Yngwie J. Malmsteen. Why? Because The Quireboys were (bizarrely) the support act. I watched The Quireboys (classic line-up promoting the original 'There She Goes Again' single on Survival Records) and didn't submit myself to one single note from Malmsteen; and that's how it should be - the rock seperated from the cock. Diablo, guitarist with Italy's Killer Klown, is actually Andrea Martongelli, a shredder whose other bands include Power Quest and Arthemis. He releases instructional DVDs, books and CDs. Killer Klown appear to be his sleaze rock "project" and that, for someone who has spent more than two decades weeding out the shite from the genre, is as "4 Real" as formica.
'Gain', to be fair, does contain a healthy dose of cool riffs - check out 'Smoke This' and 'Demolition Man' (there has to be a better Sly Stallone movie to name a song after - Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot?). Vocalist Gabry is in possession of a good set of pipes but the predictable lyrics and obligatory profanity make things as bland as astronaut food. I guess he'd like to be compared to someone like Seb Bach but, on tracks like 'Gangster', he comes across like a hybrid Axl Rose/Dave Mustaine creature; über-ginger and intent on winning the biggest asshole cockfight?
There doesn't appear to be the merest hint of originality on the entire album. Every chorus is either a stolen soundalike - 'Out In The Fields' anyone? 'Cats In The Cradle'? - or is a clichéd creature that has managed to crawl away from a spacecraft that has crash landed on Earth after escaping the fiery hell of Planet 1984. And if the Bon Jovi camp ever get to hear 'Broken Silence' then you'd guess that Belinda Carlisle will have some company in the plagiarist powder rooms of the high court.
The 1988 movie Killer Klowns From Outer Space was a refreshingly left field piece of film making at a time when generic franchise sequels and copycat creations threatened to drown an entire genre. The band who have taken their name from the movie have sadly taken none of the individuality or originality that ran through the Chiodo Brothers film like a cotton candy canal.
For desperate rock fans with no sense of musical history only.
by Gaz E.
Visit the Killer Klown Website