D’ire, D’abominable, D’abysmal – this is all too D’easy. Bought in 1991, when I was old enough to know better here’s D’Molls. It was cheap, it was glam rock from 1988, I’d sort of heard about them and they looked kinda funny on the back cover = bought it*. Oh dear.
Before today I genuinely don’t think I ever made it through more than three songs in a single go and I have tried two, or three times. Today, for you, I sat down and listened to it all the way through once, so you don’t have to. Now I’m a glam veteran, I own/have owned far more of this stuff than was strictly necessary and it has sound tracked more than I can tell you about whilst maintaining my status as a gentleman. But, for Angus’ sake it was all thirty seven times better than D’Molls.
D’Molls genuinely makes Poison Look What The Cat Dragged In sound like Reign In Blood, it’s rock in name only – everything is a high-pitched, treble-overdosing abomination. On an 11 track LP, there’s only a real discernible guitar solo on one track**, the rest of the guitars just sound like they were played on cheap keyboards. I genuinely can’t distinguish between one plodding tune and the next, the heavily-treated beat of each and every track sounds like an undertaker making your own bespoke coffin as a cruel reminder that you’re minutes closer to your own grave than you once were. Listening to this is like being force-fed 4 kilos of sugar … through every bodily opening, except your mouth. That good.
Now D’Molls do get 1537 bonus points for the band member’s names, step forward Desi Rexx, Billy Dior, Lizzy Valentine and the wildly dubious) S.S Priest. They don’t make ’em like that anymore*^. It reminds me of a game my friend Steve and I used to play at work when we were bored, trying to name the ultimate glam metal group, the best we came up with was:
- Screech Benson – Vocals
- Dizzy Banger – Drums
- Fido – Bass
- Lionel ‘Wang bar’ Riichardz – Guitar
The D’molls were clearly better at it than Steve and I. Click to marvel at them properly.
Future generations will undoubtedly put this band in their full historical perspective and mock fools like me who failed to identify the D’Molls as a game-changing harbinger of all future culture, but until then we can just amuse ourselves with their lyrics. I know it’s arbitrary and unfair, but hey, welcome to my world. Some personal favourites are:
Mayor’s daughter, shouldn’t oughta (All I Want)
Winners of the human race’ll / Lose a little social grace / Just as well, ’cause what the hell’s / An elevator? (777 (not a Danzig cover)
Umm, it’s a device to take you between floors in a building?
With one too many her lights turn green / She’ll hand you the keys to her pink machine (Rally Baby)
Dudes, AC/DC would have knocked that double entendre back for lack of subtlety!
And I’m going to stop right there. Although D’Molls do something I find a little odd in their usual, vastly long credits, they split them between ‘Dolls’ and ‘Dudes’, I’ve never ever seen a band do that before, carry out some kind of strange gender apartheid. Bizarre. If I was Ahmet Ertegun I really wouldn’t have allowed them to include my name in the thanks bit for, and I quote, ‘D’Atlantic Family’.
As I have been a little bit less than gushing this time out, I shall nail up the usual 1537 disclaimer right here, which is D’Molls is a far, far better LP than any I have ever released and I appreciate smart-arsed blogging is no substitute for having been there and done it.
**on ‘All Night Long’, and its quite good – but admitting that spoils my argument, so Shhhh!.
*^not since the 1991 Taste Act was passed into federal law.