There was something magical about scanning across the FM dial as a kid. The hiss, the static, the excitement of stumbling across something that made you stop turning the knob. That feeling is exactly how All Lights On begins, and it’s the perfect introduction because Smoking Snakes aren’t interested in reinventing hard rock – they’re interested in reminding you why you fell in love with it in the first place.
“Don’t Touch” wastes no time. “It’s a Saturday night, there’s nowhere to hide,” they declare as gang vocals invite you into their world, while the guitar solo drips with Sunset Strip sleaze. It sets the tone perfectly.
The sound here is gloriously uncomplicated. Think early Mötley Crüe or Ratt when they still had one foot planted firmly in heavy metal. There’s no irony, no modern polish trying to disguise where these songs come from. Smoking Snakes wear their influences like a leather jacket covered in patches, and they’re better for it.
“Trick Or Treat” and “All I Need” embrace that glorious 1984 spirit completely. Loud riffs, huge hooks and absolutely no apologies.
“Look In Your Eyes” eases the pace without sacrificing momentum, and that only makes “Last Man Standing” hit even harder. Like so much of this record, it’s built around a chorus that refuses to leave your head.
Let’s be honest, you’ve probably heard hundreds—if not thousands—of records that live in this territory. Smoking Snakes know that too. They’re not pretending they’ve invented sleaze rock; they’re simply celebrating it with infectious enthusiasm.
You can almost picture these four listening to albums like this as kids, stood in front of the bedroom mirror pretending to be rock stars. The difference is that for 34 glorious minutes, they actually are.
Guitarist Rob Raw – and we’re going to assume that’s not the name on his birth certificate – can produce a riff with the best of them. Songs like “Screaming For More” and “Broken Heart” suggest there might still be plenty of life left in this style if bands continue to write with this much conviction.
“Nasty & Wild” arrives with a drum sound aimed squarely at the back rows of an arena, complete with towering backing vocals and even a cheeky nod towards Bruce Springsteen. By the time “Pleasure & Pain” closes proceedings, Brett Martin delivers a performance that occasionally hints at early W.A.S.P., while twin guitars tear through the speakers with real intent.
As the radio dial twists once more and the album disappears back into the static, Smoking Snakes leave behind the impression of a band who understand exactly what they are. All Lights On isn’t trying to change the world. It’s trying to make you throw your fist in the air, sing every chorus and remember why this music was so much fun in the first place.
It turns out the most fun you can have is with the lights on. This record shines into all the dark corners.
RATING 8/10
