The Week's Worst

Razorblade Skin

Only a fool wouldn’t rather drink a tea made of Shout at the Devil-era Mick Mars’ underpants than endure a note of Philly’s own Razorblade Skin (formerly Primadonnaz), a fifth-generation VHS copy of the Crüe that manages to ape everything wrong with the L.A. foursome, but none of the right. Backs break beneath the weight of Razorblade Skin’s blight. Children are born lame within their wake. The unforgettably shrill, horrific bleat of a dolphin is preferable to a single, embarrassing power chord from these faux-rockin’ assholes. Sound can be a weapon. Philly is at war. Side with the victor and stay home.