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Modern electric blues guitar can be traced directly back to this Texas-born pioneer, who began amplifying his sumptuous lead lines for public consumption circa 1940 and thus initiated a revolution so total that its tremors are still being felt today. Few major postwar blues guitarists come to mind that don't owe T-Bone Walker an unpayable debt of gratitude. B.B. King has long cited him as a primary influence, marveling at Walker's penchant for holding the body of his guitar outward while he played it. Gatemouth Brown, Pee Wee Crayton, Goree Carter, Pete Mayes, and a wealth of other prominent Texas-bred axemen came stylistically right out of Walker during the late '40s and early '50s.

Vince Neil's solo debut is a glittering hunk of 1980s hair metal space junk, crash-landed smack dab and smoking in the town square of 1993 alternative city. With crack hired gun Steve Stevens along for the ride, Neil runs through a gloriously anachronistic set of athletic, Motley-lite rockers, thumbing his nose at the flannel and hair grease revolution with his gaggle of strutting Aqua Netted vest guys (pictured on the back cover in full-on preen). It's unclear just what Neil is exposing with this album, since its lyrics mostly just extend the sexual conquests ("You're Invited (But Your Friend Can't Come)") and concurrent never-say-die/gonna-die-young ethos ("Can't Have Your Cake") espoused by his old band. Exposed does wind down a bit after its revved up open, offering the dull "Can't Change Me." While the LP's florescent riffing and histrionic vocal exercises prove Neil isn't lying, "Change" is still a leaden attempt at rebel-on-the-road oath uttering.