Can’t Drink You Pretty – Ginger Wildheart

Cock Rock has deep historical roots. Ginger knows this. It’s roots lay in drinking and getting laid through the ages, sure but it has roots. Pre Cock Rock there was Heavy Metal and before Metal there was Glam Rock, Before Glam Rock there was Classic Rock, Pre the Classics there was Rock & Roll. Before Rock and Roll there was Jazz, Pre Jazz there was Big Band Swing, pre Swing there was just cave men clubbing girls over the head and dragging them back to caves.

Can’t Drink You Pretty at first glance is the worst kind of unreconstructed rock and roll cliché. It’s a guy pounding drinks to get inebriated enough to tolerate a girl he doesn’t like. Charming. But wait…

What if we were playing with those clichés? Rolling them back to their trace elements? How about after a boogie riff carbon dated from the early 70’s at the latest there are a couple of spat verses. They’re about {booze good + ugly bad} but they’re dripping with sarcasm not libidinous intent. You feel like you’re in familiar heavy rock, hard cock territory but between the lines everyone feels awkward, even the protagonist.

“One glass of wine down it hasn’t been a good year a shot or two of Absolut and now you got an attitude 3, 4, 5 from the whiskey distiller and a sixth of tequila and I still want to kill her”

The tongue in the cheek and the musical dexterity are getting the band through but ultimately the first two minutes are a diss track. A very groovy diss track, and crucially a diss track followed by a blistering (and I mean fucking scorching) guitar solo played by special guest Toy Doll Olga. So far so snarky, but Man, does it rock?! It’s the sort of solo that steals the song away for the duration of it’s airtime.

We now have an outbreak of Axl Rose syndrome. The music’s great, but the politics are way off. I’m OK with this. Pablo Picasso may well have been an arsehole after all.

“Well I can’t drink you pretty, it’s true, can’t drink you pretty, no can do, well your beauty’s only skin deep but your ugliness goes the whole way through. It’s true”

Then the proper mad bit happens. How do you follow 60 seconds of such axe pyro and still up the ante? How about with some big band swing? Really? Yep. Why not follow a solo Ace Frehley would give a pinky for with a medley of show tunes?

Straight up, we go into a metal band playing first something that resembles Booker T, then it’s Jazz for a minute, there’s horns suddenly and you think we must have peaked. That is until the heavy metal equivalent of the Puppini Sisters pipe in with a verse of ‘The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B’ and then it goes off on yet more tangents. I swear there’s a set of bagpipes in there before the end.

And the very end. Well that’s a reference to The Muppet Show if I ever heard one.


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