On the one hand, that Rosemary’s Garden appear to represent the worst aspects of hackneyed blues-based rock ‘n’ roll is reason for a big critical thumbs-down. ‘I was born bayyyyd’ the singer drawls on ‘The Jack’, and it’s hard not to wince aloud. On the other hand, the fact Rosemary’s Garden represent the worst aspects of hackneyed blues-based rock ‘n’ roll and does so with a glint in the eye and a swagger in the step. It’s the adherence to the low down and dirty, whiskey-soaked cliché that almost makes it acceptable. Almost: ‘August’ comes on like Roxy Music covering ‘Honky Tonk Women’, but then ‘Queen of the Harpies’ is more Quireboys and there’s simply no excuse for that.
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On ‘King’, the chorus line ‘It’s good to be King’ isn’t only rhymed lazily with ‘if you know what I mean’ but is sung to sound like ‘it’s good to make cake’. It’s compensated by stonking fuzzed-out solo, but then again, by the time the album’s past its midway point they’ve seemingly run out of ideas – and the cover art is just fucking dire.
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