Cheesy '80s metal didn't die with the '80s. Hansel formed in 2009 or so, but they're still preoccupied with 1985 (that's not just a cheap reference, by the way: Their Facebook page claims a band birth date of January 1, 1985.)
Their song "Murder 101" could have fit right in with the actual '80s, right down to its unique brand of storytelling. Hansel's singer throws a girl, whom I assume is Gretel, into the trunk of his car and shoots her directly in the head. Maybe. For some reason, she screams in terror AFTER the gunshot, so perhaps he missed. Or he shot her in the leg. Or, most likely, the band should've hired a better video editor.
"And cut into the Zubaz budget? Hell no."
A couple of hot cops then chase Hansel down an alley, though their version of "chase" never moves beyond a slow jog.
However, much like the slow turtle that keeps beating Bugs Bunny in a foot race, the cops actually capture Hansel and take him in for questioning. The evidence is overwhelming, including the gun that Hansel used, along with several photos of him committing the murder.
"It wasn't me; it was the drummer from Def Leppard!"
They hand him a confession to sign, but his lawyer, who is obviously a hot girl, because the only males on this version of Earth are in the band, grabs it and rips it up.
Usually, confession-ripping means the case will have to go to trial. Not this time, though. Here, the lawyer's actions somehow force the charges to be dropped, prompting everybody to dance sexily around the room.
"Just ass has been served."
So, no justice for the poor murder victim, then? Well, it turns out she's totally fine, even though nobody took her to the hospital or anything. She even attends the big party at the end. Shit, not even Jesus hung around with his executioners after he rose. This girl's a triple shot of sainthood.
Criminals, accomplices, cops, and victims alike all live happily ever after in a land of anarchy and lawlessness, at least for people with pretty faces.
Warrant's big hit, "Cherry Pie," is 100 percent stereotypical hair metal: hot girl dancing around a hot car, tons of blatant sexual innuendo, and the band pretending their guitars are real. "Big Talk," on the other hand, has far more to say. What exactly that is, though, I have no clue.
Things kick off with the band "back$tage at the Buck$ley Arena" (yes, that's how the video spells it) meeting the head of their label, a fat "Land of Confusion"-esque puppet with money sticking out of his hair. He burns a dollar sign onto their singer's hand, saying he wants to learn the secret of their success.
The band hesitates to answer, so Fat Boy's hired ninja drops down from the ceiling ...
... lures the band into a shark cage ...
... and straps the singer to an electric chair.
Well, this got quite dark quite fast. Did Warrant secretly play death metal after finishing off the last bit of cherry pie? It would appear so, as the executioner, a stereotypical Arab man straight out of Aladdin, throws the fatal switch.
So he's dead, right? Warrant needs a new singer, right? Fuck you, wrong guy! Instead of killing him, the chair simply plays a Warrant concert over his head. Too bad TVs on electric chairs never took off as a hot technology. The warden could kill off a serial rapist and watch the Super Bowl at the same time. Convenience for all.
In response to this curious twist, two hot girls start dancing all hot-like, and even the Arab executioner gets into the act, because he does not care about his job.
"Fuck you; you should have given me dental."
Then, out of the blue, the singer disappears, and the guitarist is magically transported from his shark cage to the chair, air soloing the whole time, because that's precisely how you react when Star Trek comes to life.
Finally, Fat Boy kicks the guitarist out of the chair so he can experience some rockin' for himself. He forgets to strap himself in, but the video keeps playing anyhow.
"That's because everything in this video is powered by cocaine."
While he's busy flailing around like a clumsy kid on a balance beam, the rest of the band realizes their captor imported his shark cage from the Big Rock Candy Mountain and pulls the bars apart effortlessly.
They then escape, leaving everybody else behind to merrily dance alone, like babies playing in the same room, but not with each other.