“It’s very butch. Very muscular…” says David Coverdale about the first Whitesnake album in 11 years. Pause for a while and take that in.

The endless 25th anniversary reunion of the masters of hairspray metal is into its sixth year and has spawned Good To Be Bad. Coverdale & Co. are not known for releasing groundbreaking material so one might be forgiven for expecting no surprises on first listen. One would be wrong. The biggest surprise is that it is not a bad record. Sure, it is full of double entendre-fueled cock rock, but as far that oeuvre goes this is a pretty respectable example.

This is a summer blockbuster of a record. It is akin to Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the CGI Gopher in so far as it does exactly what it says on the tin. People will enjoy both because they provide an opportunity to relive past youth (and hair) without taxing the brain in any way, shape, or form. Granted, Harrison Ford will be banking more cash as a result of his endeavor, but that is what you get if you keep retiring and then coming back, Dave.

This album ticks all of the boxes for devotees of the band. It drives down the familiar lane of Led Zeppelin riffs, big choruses, and is overflowing with “sexy” lyrics. While unlikely to win over any new fans, it will give the band something to sell at gigs. So, take her top down, ease the seat back, slide it in, and ride her at full pelt with this blasting from her speakers at full volume. Sometimes it’s Good To Be Bad.