Aah, Bon Jovi. Just when you thought you'd seen the last of these egotistical dwarf-like fuckwits, here they are, more overblown and pompous than ever.
AND they come with the love ballad. That long-established staple of soft-rock. An excuse for the sensitive songwriter to make their 'heartfelt' sentiments for the love of their life known, despite the fact that they're probably fucking a couple of groupies backstage after their concert, before snorting some more cocaine, and then shagging some more nubile young ladies. As you do. Oh yes, they mean it, man. I do have a theory that in an effort to combat the increasing population size, the government have deployed such bands in order to encourage suicide in the face of such depressing bollocks, thus preventing a hude ecological distaster. Which is nice, but I think death via steam roller would be preferable to this.
Who buys this endless drivel? Let's face it people, Bon Jovi SUCK. I'd try and say something nice, but I think I'd probably choke on my own vomit. Strings, and possibly the whole kitchen sink, are used in a shameless attempt to milk their eighties success for enough money to buy another jet-plane. This is about as meaningful as a two-year olds attempts to describe the meaning of life. Bon Jovi, FUCKING DIE!
2Michael MacLennan's Score