More surly drinking anthems from the patron saint of the blotto. Despite all his huffing and puffing, George Thorogood's snarl of a voice and pedal-to-the-metal guitar work have a heartless, assembly-line quality on Haircut, his 10th album. It's as if he were stamping out license plates, not singing the blues. C


Add your comment
The rules: Keep it clean, and stay on the subject or we might delete your comment. If you see inappropriate language, e-mail us. An asterisk * indicates a required field.