With two new members courtesy of Manhattan's punk scene, rock's silliest bare-chested Beelzebuddy eschews the god-awful electro-racket of his last two studio albums and returns to the rudimentary riffage of his early-'90s efforts. Granted, ''Wicked Pussycat'' doesn't lack for Goth-metal swagger, but it's hard to listen to ''Without Light, I Am'' and not think it's being sung by a lonely Yoda.


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