Tigertailz
Bezerk

Wales was the California of Europe. At least starting from the early 80s, when the Tigertailz, the best European expression of the most ingenious, shocking street glam and genuinely feline spirit, turned the temperature up to boiling point in those damp and foggy lands.

The multifaceted innovation of these unholy monsters of the most notorious rock in history could be summed up by the image of a cut electric cable writhing in a fit of random spasms in a puddle, in an endless motion that would only stop by pulling the plug. Those who leave nothing to chance, first of all, equip themselves with an appropriate name, and the Tigertailz chose very well, with a naming operation reminiscent of the iron curtain. To be worn like a tiger pelt, which suited them as much as the leopard one did for GN'R and the zebra one for Cinderella.

These diva-types by vocation, these heavily made-up hair enthusiasts, these Dee Snider fans, these vamps in steel stiletto heels, after f***ing off the badass debut "Young And Crazy" in 1987—where all the genre's clichés were sung with a not quite human power by the beastly jaw of Steevi Jaimz—returned in the rock blessed year of 1990 with the new vocalist Kim Hooker and a sound that puts a wax seal on the "new rules for not compromising musically."

This is how Jay Pepper's guitars start transforming into melodic fluorescent chainsaws ready to carve out a path in a landscape that the band, if it could, would have gladly occupied alone, so appealing was the world stage to the Tigertailz beast.

A band where the members participate in—even the simple—stage of lyric composition and where everyone proudly wields their respective instruments is a healthy band, thirsty for the blood of fans. From this desire to create music doomed never to die arises the masterpiece "Bezerk", a frenzied roar from Europe that didn't want to sit back and watch America.

Will you allow me the hard-boiled label of hard cock for this album? Because it's obscenely beautiful, sexually stimulating, even when you remove it from the jar that preserved it in acid twenty years later. This music is a whore because it always delivers, just give it a nod. And if you press the trigger, it spills out all its humoral and visceral charge: "Sick Sex", "Love Bomb Baby", "Can Fight Dirty Too", "Noise Level Critical", "Heaven", "Love Overload", "Action City", "Twist And Shake", "Squeeze It Dry", "Call Of The Wild" are what men perhaps seek in the rawness of a trans relationship.

This orange with a compromised mechanism is indescribable, a journey into the most insidious and premeditated violence, a cave lined with 80s effects instrumentalized for the use and consumption of the band, which here becomes a gang ready for group manipulation, deception, forced seduction, and blatant persuasion.

I'll stop to avoid easy sermons. Just know that a detail makes the difference in the science of crime and the backing vocals of "Sick Sex", which spell out with the macabre perseverance of a pendulum the two words, they know well the hour someone stabbed rock in the back. And now you know who that someone is.