Self-appointed saviors of sleaze, the L.A. scuzz rockers are disciples of the Sunset Strip circa 1987, singing songs of crazy bitches and cocaine and scored to second-hand Aerosmith boogie so they're turned into lead-footed stomps. Rock & roll doesn't need to be complicated, but if it's going to be the soundtrack for a night of binge drinking at strip clubs, it damn well better make wallowing in filth sound irresistible. Buckcherry dutifully hit all their marks on their fourth album Black Butterfly -- the greasy guitar, the snake-dancing vocals, rhythms designed with a Texas lapdance in mind -- so that makes the record no different in form or function than their other LPs. Here, they swipe power ballads from Mötley Crüe and pluck Guns N' Roses.