Jock Jams for future sports, disco finally blob-absorbing what’s left of its AOR detractors, French Touch deciding that the touch is actually a Young Bucks superkick — Justice’s second album is a lot of things, even if most of those things are in service of a post-genre love of Rocking The Fuck Out. Their all-syrup Slurpee version of Queen/ELO/Def Lep bombast is an acquired taste if you’re automatically suspicious of anything saurian, but the sugar buzz sustains energy levels in a way that a can of Monster never could.