"Welcome to the Jungle."

"Outside my window there's a/Whole lot of trouble comin'," warns Sebastian Bach with breathy, malevolent relish at the start of "Monkey Business," kicking off a gutter-class parade of psycho creeps, junkie losers, teenage whores and white punks bereft of hope – orchestrated with kick-in-the-groin riffing and guitars swooping out of feedback skies. It's Armageddon à la Aerosmith via Axl, and it sounds grand, with state-of-the-throb production by Michael Wagener. Backfield muscle boys bassist Rachel Bolan and drummer Rob Affuso, set up a double-time Metallica-phonic hammering in the title track as Bach rails against the forces of Establishment evil with werewolf growls and paint-peeling howls. "Psycho Love" is a feast of clenched-fist fuzz and earthquake bass, while "Riot Act," the obligatory indictment of school as prison, bolts out of the gate like a cross between the Ramones' "Blitzkrieg Bop" and Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall."

As for the lyrics, things are just as manic, if a bit more muddled. The songs, most of which were written by Bolan with guitarist Dave "the Snake" Sabo, are crammed to the last syllable with smartass street gab, rapid-fire wordplay and sound-bite holocaust imagery that sometimes make better vocal sizzle than verbal sense ("Stack heels kickin' rhythm/Of social circumcision/Can't close the closet/On a shoe box full of bones," from "Monkey Business"). "Riot Act" verges on the witless – "I didn't want your education/'Cause it's nothin' but a pile of shit" – but "In a Darkened Room," a sure-fire power-ballad smash, is more typical of Slave's tangled rhyme schemes: "All the precious times have been put to rest again/And the smile of the dawn/Brings tainted lust singing my requiem." It reads like much ado about who-knows-what, although as overwrought romantic torture goes, Bach's pained wail and the song's swelling chorus spell Hitsville.

Actually, Slave would have been a four-star affair for its searing sonics alone. The Skidders get docked at least a star, though, for "Get the Fuck Out," a bonehead play even in a genre where predatory misogyny is an established tradition. "Get the Fuck Out" is nothing more, or less, than gratuitous groupie bashing, a cheap macho swipe at a woman who is used, then abused, just to satisfy the singing cocksman's lust and ego. Bach's purse, of course, is