Pink Grease

With its neon liner notes, choppy guitar hooks, synth noise and “Fuck. Art. Let’s fuck” attitude, Pink Grease’s debut EP, All Over You, was as trendy as a star tattoo, but it still managed to conjure the smutty, chaotic intent of the new-new wave movement. Comparatively, this anticipated full-length is a conservatively acceptable fizzle. The salacious lyrics point to punky rebellion, but the overall sound is in line with classic glam and garage rock. The chugging guitars, catchy choruses and Stooges/Psychedelic Furs sax blurts are fine, but the record doesn’t emerge from the safety-in-the-familiar rut until the halfway point (“The Nasty Show” and “Serial Heartbreaker” are highlights), when some synth bubbles up on the bridges. Still, it’s moderately fun and well-produced, and they’re a safe bet for a good live band. But where’s the danger? For all of their initial promise, Pink Grease seems content to be the modern-day version of the New York Dolls, right down to the cursive lipstick font. And we already have The Makers for that.