The Jackalopes All The Sleaze Review
A few months back, during our Halfway to Halloween blowout, I practically foamed at the mouth over one of my favorite Horror Punk degenerates, The Jackalopes. In the process, I wormed my way into the twisted lair of the man pulling the strings, Rev. Chad Wells of Horror Shock Media. This was less “networking” and more “selling my soul for backstage passes to the depraved carnival,” and honestly, it was long overdue. Now I’m sort of in the Rev’s inner circle, peeking behind the velvet curtain at the dark, sticky guts of the label and the band. And let me tell you, having the Rev around is like carrying around a coolness encyclopedia that smells faintly of beer and sin. The man is the real deal, a certified 1% muthafucka. And you know me, I don’t dish out praise unless it’s earned in sweat, blood, and other questionable bodily fluids.
Which brings us to why we’re here… to talk about The Jackalopes AGAIN.
Last year Horror Shock dropped “All the Horror”, a remastered buffet of their creepiest cuts, an absolute knockout. Fast forward to 2025, and yesterday they unleashed another filthy little miracle: “All the Sleaze”.
What is All the Sleaze? It’s exactly what the name promises, every tongue-in-cheek, below-the-belt, hips-and-hands-wandering track from the band’s back catalog, remastered for maximum thrust and audio carnage. See, The Jackalopes never played by the rules of the Horror Punk dress code. They weren’t afraid to lace up a little raunch in between the blood-soaked verses. Me, I’m an ’80s kid, I like Sleaze in everything. I grew up on the gospel that you’re not worth a damn unless you can “Fuck Like a Beast” or quote BulletBoys’ “Smooth Up In Ya” without blushing. That was the mating call of my generation, swagger up, roll the hips, drop the line, hope she didn’t slap you. Worked better than it should have.
Most of these tracks were born on the long-out-of-print “Jacksploitation”, which these days is harder to find than your dignity after a weekend of hookers, cocaine and mescaline. But the Rev went back in, tightened the screws, polished the chrome, and here we are with the definitive Sleaze bomb.
The album kicks the door in with “1% Percent Muthafucka,” a sermon from a preacher who’s clearly been baptizing himself in booze and debauchery. From there it dives into “Good Clean Fun,” which might be about laundromat love, or maybe it’s just an excuse to picture washing machines vibrating hard enough to make OSHA nervous while strangers accidentally grind on each other in the spin cycle aisle. “Drive In Saturday Night” delivers that Rockabilly swagger with just enough grease to slide you into trouble: beer, blood, and questionable backseat gymnastics under the flicker of a giant screen.
My personal crown jewel - “Pristine Fifteen”, pure ’80s Sleaze-core energy with a riff that smells like Aqua Net, stale pussy and bad decisions. It catapults me right back to my feral teenage years when every thought began and ended with fuck. Not my proudest era, but God, it was fun. Then we’ve got “Switchblade Sisters” and “Daughter of Discipline,” two tracks I hadn’t met before but that instantly earned a spot in my dirty little heart.
Sixteen tracks in total, every one dripping with filthy punk energy, bad intentions, and the kind of grin that gets you banned from most places. And because the Rev doesn’t do just enough, Horror Shock is offering bundles with both “All the Horror”, “All the Sleaze” CDS, a hoodie, and a grab bag of merch pulled straight from the Rev’s private stash. No two bundles are the same, think of it as a Sleazy loot box for the fanatics. My dick is still hard from reading the news!
If you’re a die-hard fan, you’re already in line. If you’re just some innocent soul wandering by, “All the Sleaze” will happily ruin you in the best way possible. Either way, it’s not something you want to miss, unless you enjoy living without sleazy punk filth in your ears.