Sexy Beast by Glen Matlock: A Raw, Unapologetic Ride Through Rock and Rebellion
Alright, let’s cut the crap. Glen Matlock’s Sexy Beast isn’t your polished, radio-friendly pop album—it’s gritty, raw, and dripping with attitude. Released in 2017 under IndieBox Music @ 360° (yeah, outta Italy, of all places), this record slams together Rock, Americana, Punk, and New Wave like a bar fight you can’t look away from. With legends like Earl Slick on guitar and Slim Jim Phantom hammering the drums, it’s got enough firepower to blow your speakers.
First off, let’s talk tracks. "Blank Generation" kicks things off with a punch-you-in-the-face energy that feels like a love letter to punk’s glory days. It’s not just some lazy cover—it’s reinvented, stripped down, and pissed off. Matlock’s vocals are snarling but oddly melodic, like he’s daring you to keep up. You remember this one because it’s relentless; it doesn’t ask for your attention—it demands it. And when Earl Slick rips into his solo? Forget about it. That guy could make a grocery list sound badass.
Then there’s “Sexy Beast,” the title track that smacks you upside the head with swagger. This tune is sleazy in the best way possible—like stumbling into a smoke-filled dive bar at 2 AM and realizing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. The bassline from Jim Lowe grooves so hard it practically winks at you, while Matlock’s delivery oozes confidence without taking itself too seriously. It sticks in your brain like gum on a hot sidewalk—you’ll hate that you love it.
Now, don’t get me wrong—this ain’t perfect. Some parts feel messy, almost unfinished, but maybe that’s the point. Sexy Beast thrives in its imperfections, throwing rules out the window and letting chaos take the wheel. It’s an album that doesn’t care if you like it or not, which ironically makes you want to crank it louder.
Here’s the kicker though: why the hell did this come out of Italy? Like, who looks at the land of pasta and Renaissance art and thinks, “Yeah, this is where I drop a punk-infused rock banger”? Doesn’t matter though—it works. Maybe that’s what makes Sexy Beast special. It shouldn’t fit together, but somehow it does, like duct tape holding broken glass.
So yeah, give it a spin if you’re tired of music that sounds like it was made by robots. Just don’t blame me if you end up blasting it on repeat and scaring your neighbors.
