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Lately we've noticed a lot of bands have their own brands of wine, including Motörhead, Kiss, AC/DC, and Ratt. (Even Warrant has a wine. Warrant.) One of our friends at Wine Spectator magazine showed us the piece they wrote in April about this trend, and noted they were going to rate many of them in their October issue. But then walking ego Gene Simmons got word that his Kiss wine was rated poorly and threatened to sue. Wine Spectator felt it wasn't worth the hassle, so they killed the piece.
Here at West Coast Sound, however, we're fearless motherfuckers who refuse to be pushed around. Also, we're drunk. So we sent an intern to find the piece in the trash at Wine Spectator and we are running it below. Bring it on, Simmons.
Lots of people complain that AC/DC wine lost its appeal when its original winemaker died. Those people are full of shit. The AC/DC Hells Bells Sauvignon Blanc works hard and doesn't quit. It's consistent. Every bottle tastes exactly the same. Hints of citrus on the nose, orange peel and fat chords on the tongue; a perfect balance of workman Malcolm tannins and showy Angus fruit. May cause big balls.
This wine exhibits a very big body, undisputed attitude and is uncompromisingly tough. It's the most popular wine ever sold in South America. Like, they go crazy for this shit down there. As its name implies, it tastes like blood. On the nose you can make out currants, apricot and evil. Mostly evil. You may find lots of young people pretending they love Slayer's Reign in Blood Cabernet, because the brand is very chic. Many of them know very little about it.
This beloved relic of a wine-era past is uncompromisingly big on the tongue, and acidic in finish. Its subtle hints of oak play video poker all day in the Rainbow Bar & Grill of your tastebuds. It's perfect for sipping, but drink too many glasses and it will stab you in the liver with one of its prized World War II era Nazi knives. Oddly, you'll pick up lots of Jack Daniels on the nose. May cause warts.
There are overwhelming hints of irrelevance in this pungent white. It tastes stale, like no one has cared about it for decades. Its makers suggest you wear open finger gloves while drinking, which looks ridiculous. They also suggest you drink it from a chalice, which is a major hassle and, also, c'mon guys, who do you think we are? Anton LaVey?
This incredible wine has been known, at times, to fly its own plane. It's unspeakably efficient, and each bottle will make you feel like a stranger in a strange land, the seventh son of a seventh son, or some other vaguely dubious phrase that sounds a touch evil for reasons you can't quite put your finger on. You'll taste boysenberry and hints of Bruce Dickinson's sweat (it tastes like passion fruit) in the finish.
Less a wine, more a gimmick, there's virtually nothing appealing about this collection. Each bottle comes with a lock of singer/bassist Gene Simmons' Brillo pad-, rats nest-like hair, which he for some reason thinks is a selling point. You'll taste chocolate, apple and a bloated sense of self importance in every bottle. On the nose you'll pick up notes of Paul Stanley's chest hair and Ace Frehley's tears.
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