BETTER
LATE THAN NEVER – Eddie and the Hot Rods (Bad Reputation)
Unlike
most my age, I’ve never fully gotten over old
school Brit punk and pub rock, the sound of The Clash, Sex Pistols, Damned,
The Vibrators, Dr. Feelgood, et al dependably releasing an endorphin surge
of fond memories upon takeoff every 
time. This could be where it all ends though
for all is not well and good in the spiky world of my punk youth.
Eddie and the Hot Rods in name only, “Better Late Than Never” is, for lack of a better word, a pooch, singer and only original member Barrie Masters deciding to take one last kick at the cat and drag the hard-won brand name through mud one more time. If you’ve come here in quest of the sweaty, sulfate-fueled R&B of “Teenage Depression” or the inspired, anthemic sizzle of “Life On The Line,” look away now. You know you’re in for a rough ride when the best these guys (and when I say “these guys,” I keep forgetting it’s not the old guard who birthed this foozle) could come up with is a clumsy, ill-advised, half-hearted pass at Ian Hunter’s “Once Bitten Twice Shy.”
“Better Late Than Never” sees the band recreated as blue collar barroom bluesbusters armed with enough metal licks (see the first few bars of “Shut Up”) to slay the leather-and-tattoo crowd slamming beer glasses on wooden tables at Bike Week in Daytona Beach, mixing speed and hard liquor like a bad mistake. Like nothing else in the band’s catalog, it’s colored with blues patterns (“Bad Man”) and sentimental lyrics (“Not Enough”) which trudge onward with a lack of musical direction and ill-fitted personnel, occasionally hitting its stride as if Masters is flashing back to the Marquee in ’77.
Besides a complete dearth of memorable tunes, what’s most troubling about this album is Richard Holgarth’s over-the-top bass-heavy production and an irritating lack of treble that had me double-checking the CD deck to make sure the kids hadn’t twisted any of the knobs.
Admittedly,
I’m possessed of an insectine attention
span and overflowing with resigned loss at a heart grown cold, but I just
don’t get it
and I
don’t think I ever will. - Clark Paull
