Hinder - Get Stoned

Let me set the scene.

There are two guys in a bar. One’s a lithe sun kissed cowboy, dressed to the nines in leathers with a cool hat, dust caked poncho, quick grin and quicker trigger finger. This is the dude, the main man: mother fucking Iggy Pop.

The other guy has seen better days; all over he's kind of slumped and tired. He’s got trouble with his posture, baggy eyes, receding hairline and problems with his prostrate. All in all he resembles a struggling tax accountant. One in a crumpled, vomit flecked C and A suit.

They’re having a drinking contest, the cowboy’s winning. The tax guy can barely keep anything down, just brings it up over his shoes.

What a fucker!

In this bar, in this contest, cowboy represents everything cool about rock and roll. Every early Elvis song he cut with Sun, each Kyuss riff and Velvets record flows through his veins. He IS IGGY AND THE STOOGES INCARNATE.

Tax man however, he’s the 21st century Rolling Stones or motherfucking Fairport Convention or goddamn Hinder. Forced, fake or just fucking lame, taxman embodies every sour note, performance and song ever brought into the world. By Jesus Hinder’s Get Stoned is fucking foul.

It truly could be one of the laziest pieces of rock music ever constructed, making Nickelback look like Mudhoney.

“Lets go home and get stoned
We could end up makin love instead of misery
Go home and get stoned
Cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me”

Insightful man. Call up Penguin books, I just found a new author for their classics line!

Riding a lame repetitive riff and primitive drumming, this latest two year old American import has its spirit in macho glam rock and its music roots in bad rip off grunge.

It’s like Seven Mary Three married Poison and had a mentally stunted, cripple band.

Hopefully UK consumers have more sense than giving Hinder a Staind manoeuvre up the charts.

Out 26th of March.