There is an old adage about judging books and the relative merits of their covers. While time and usage have rendered it a hackneyed cliche, there is a truth in it and an album like Cherry Glazerr Apocalipstick is living proof of that. The title and cover art make it appear as though we’re getting some sharp, nihilistic jubilance wrapped up in a playful exterior; a multicolored middle finger in the air to the end of the world and those who caused it. Now there are flickers of that promised sensibility, it’s lost in the haze of the bland and…