I hear ya when you say that Steel Panther overdid the bald ribaldry on ripping new album Feel The Steel, ultimately landing closer to 2 Live Crew than Spinal Tap. Then again, Steel kicks the shit out of Tap's largely pointless new non-album Back From The Dead (streams here). Anyway, in a very real sense, SPanther's genius is for openly demoralizing hit-grubbers like Bon Jovi ("Party All Day" with Justin Hawkins nice), Van Halen ("Eatin' Ain't Cheatin'"), and Warrant/Whitesnake/Def Leppard ("Fat Girl [Thar She Blows]").
I know that whenever a lame processed pop song infests my soul ("Lay Your Hands On Me", "When It's Love", "Down Boys"/"The Deeper The Love"/"Pour Some Sugar On Me," respectively), I replace the lyrics with sophomoric porno verse. My famous rapper friend is a fucking black belt and ironically, we get to kinda save our oft-imperiled dignity by soiling this cold, calculated anti-music with our upgrades. It shows we can't be controlled by SongBots like Mutt Lange, Desmond Child, and that rat bastard Jack Blades. (Jack call me!) There's occasional collateral damage, like the unfortunate pooper who from her perch overheard our version of "Lick It Up" and likely spent days explaining her lasting look of horrified offense. She learned something about life that day; we were pretty foul. I mean that fucking song is filthy to begin with.