We all know the music world moves fast these days, but even so there's something a bit alarming about the speed at which Michigan singer Andrew WK has come from nowhere to be hailed as the saviour of rock'n'roll. It's also a bit bewildering, since on the evidence of this album he comes across as essentially a manic, boneheaded yob with precious little songwriting ability. To be fair, there's some shock value to be found here - the techno-punk guitars sound as if they're ripping the speakers apart and Andrew's lager-lout chanting has a certain kind of caveman charm. But it all wears thin very quickly, particularly since every song sounds much the same as the rest. If rock'n'roll really does need saving, it'll just have to be done by somebody else.

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