Denver’s Kill Paradise who having been touring with bandmates Brokencyde (you read that right, sigh) is electro pop with mall punk and club synths & beats embellishing and utilizing as many of today’s pop clichés as possible. Auto-tune? Check and then some. Hot Topic exclusive? Yup. Music featured on one or more MTV reality TV series? Absolutely. Mixing dance beats with emotional vocals (cough, emo, cough)? Yes. I just shudder for the children of today if this is truly what the hell they like. The real question is if they can sing more than a single bar or two without the help of vocal effects like auto-tune…I think I know the answer to that. Hey maybe that’s what they mean about “The Second Effect” – that they’ve found one other than auto-tune? This can’t even be a guilty pleasure without wanting to jump off a bridge after listening to it. Don’t believe me? Just watch the below video.
I wish I could have found the cover art for this album somewhere, because on it, Jes Falcon does his best Mick Jagger pouty lip impression and it prepares you for exactly how horrid “Purest Falcon” is. Well I hope the photo that I did find of Jes Falcon does it some amount of justice. Just go to his site for more hilarity and potential mockery. The “singer”/”songwriter” (that’s in heavy, HEAVY quotes) is based out of Amsterdam, I have one wee suggestion for Mr. Falcon – please find the nearest “coffee” shop and do a lot of drugs. I can’t emphasize the importance of this action for the rest of your “career”. And when you think you’re sobering up or gearing up to try to write more music just go back. You need to forget that your music ever existed and was ever written – I know I certainly hope to and quickly. I actually think I need to give my eardrums a bath in alcohol after listening to “Purest Falcon”. Maybe this was his idea of a joke? Now that X-Mas is gone, I’m bummed that I don’t have the opportunity to bestow what would perhaps be the world’s best gag gift onto anyone. Ah well there’s also next year!
Ah a Kottonmouth Kings release. A cliché after a cliché after a cliché. Boring rapcore that tries to squeeze as much 4:20 and pot references into utterly lame rapping and pours it all out onto this massive release (2 cds and a dvd) of nothing more than some fodder that will make you dumber with each listen. It’s amazing that this band has any fans outside of their family and friends. Someone needs to wake these guys out of their haze and let them know that the ‘90s are behind us.
Produced by Casey Bates, he of Portugal The Man, A Skylit Drive and Chiodos fame (wow doesn’t he feel ashamed, but I guess everyone needs a paycheck, right?), “Sleepwalking” is the debut of this Texas hardcore outfit. Memphis May Fire fires off a double combo of melodic vocals, pinch harmonic guitars with screamo and aggro-rock velocity. Their singer left in the middle of their recording with the band “forced” to do a publicity stunt, err, an open audition on MySpace. The result wasn’t a bad choice as Matt Mullins can certainly punctuate a tune with fierce precision but you have to wonder how much is auto-tuned and how much isn’t in this day and age of mall-punk melodies and clone-core. While this band is a cliché and their sound a dime-a-dozen now-a-days, it still has its merits, just not worthy enough to really mention outside of a yawning cast-off comment. Okay I am just kidding, the only merits it boasts is that they are being paid to make music while we are not. Want to run down the list of clichés? Here’s your bulleted list:
1.) “Funny” song titles that have nothing to do with the lyrics – “You’re Lucky It’s Not 1692” and “North Atlantic vs. North Carolina”
2.) Obligatory mention of God/Jesus – Liner notes thank God while lyrics say idioms like “We are the chosen, and we claim your life tonight. Breathe in the light that surrounds us. Can you feel it?”
3.) Screamo/post-emo vocals and pinched harmonics with plenty of generic “breakdowns” – Album weeps of this tired cliché
4.) Packaged sound – You could listen to this blindfolded and not hear a single iota of Texan hardcore influence, in fact this is as packaged and mall generic as it gets.
Simon Joyner’s twelfth record, “Out into the Snow” is a Bob Dylan-esque nod to Americana, alt-country, and indie pop. His vocals scream of Dylan’s influence so much that one would think that he lend his pipes to the record. Like his predecessor, Bright Eyes, Joyner journeys into the more pop regions of the world. Except his vocals are so goddamn awful that it makes listening to the album as enjoyable as a good fingernails-to-chalkboard event amplified through a loud PA system.
Well I give up on the kids if they like what would happen if MySpace became four morons with instruments. Just because you can merge Auto-tuned vocals, hip-hop, screamo, and dance music together doesn’t mean that it is a good idea nor shall you refer to it as “crunkcore” – Brokencyde is nothing but crapcore. Also as an aside, putting in bad reviews of “haters” in your press kit just confirms that you are all deaf mongoloids.
No it’s not the Hanson Brothers as you adoringly know them. Or hopefully woefully scorn. This is the punk version. Canadian brand punk/hardcore rock that exists well outside of even the mainstream underground scene. It’s a shame that it totally blows ass chunks and is not worth even a drunken listen let alone a sober one. Yawn city.
Mustache rides, $0.25. But in all seriousness, Tracy Stefans composes disposable country rock that occasionally hits a good note or two with the every-now-and-again knee-slapper, other than that, this is just plain trailer park boredom.
Oh wow this is some pretty hideous singing. While I am an admitted hater of the garage rock sound, I have been doing this long enough to spot talent. The May Fire has very few chops, very little creativity, and yawns their way into each chorus. Singer Catty Tasso is a breathy singer who wants to conjure Kim Deal real bad (nothing on “The List” would even be a b-side of the lesser Deal twin’s Breeders, let alone anything the mighty Pixies did), but falls real damn short. The best part of this album, which is the final part of a trilogy of self-released EPs, is that it ends after twenty some aggravating minutes. Leaves a bad taste in your mouth because despite its raunchiness it can create an ear worm or two. Boo!
Produced by Casey Bates, he of 
