A lot of money and countless hours in small, Ikea-scented offices have been spent in the effort to settle my personal issues with W.A.S.P. main man Blackie Lawless. My analysts say I'm getting there. I asked them to just brainwash me into believing that W.A.S.P. music is the work of some other person, but alas the twice-daily horsepills just thoroughly cloud the W.A.S.P. region of my brain; taken with the fact that Blackie's latest installment in his series of records that share monikers with cock-rings (The Crimson Idol, Unholy Terror, The Neon God) didn't even see U.S. release, yeah you see how 2007's Dominator could slip my mind for 16 months.
Anyway, Dominator (watch out ladies) is somewhere near Dying For The World and Helldorado on the meh scale. Some solid hooks, lotsa unintentionally hilarious lyrics. But it's way less cheap-sounding than preceding albums. That's something.
Hey this is embarrassing but does anybody know what W.A.S.P. stands for? We Are Satan's People? We Are Sex Perverts? Want A Signed Picture? Wet Asses Seek Penetration? None of those sounds good. Anyway, since the W.A.S.P. brand is in its death throes, maybe Blackie's next record could be credited to C.B.N.P. (Clever Band Name, Penisbreath).
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