I never met a shark that didn’t like it rough. And as for bears? Let’s just say I don’t pound slut minnows in log cabins anymore since that time the smell attracted twenty of those big black fuckers, all scratchin’ at the door, waiting for a turn.
What I mean is that these five guys from Michigan went at it and came up with a bloody mess of a first album that sounds like 12 GREEN DAY C-sides with lyrics you can’t understand. It’s not bad when lead singer Marc Paffi screams his head off like he crawled out of Lake Superior with jellyfish tentacles wrapped around his schlong. But after 30 or so times, it gets old, Marc. Sorry, you ain’t Trent Reznor.
Okay, maybe I’m just pissed about a dock scene I was having with this smokin’ puffer with lips that were so soft and supple. With the track "Bloodgiver" on, slow and acoustic and boring, putting me to sleep as she slurped away, everything was going fine. Then 3 minutes into it, your hoarse screaming came out of nowhere surprising the cum out of me and the director had to cut so I could recharge.
On your next album, please stick to tracks with the excellent 2000 BPM drum work of Ashley Horak where your flat annoying screams almost, barely fit in. Songs like "Ma Jolie" are decent when you’re beating the crap out of a dumb trout, or stuck in upstream rush hour.
But I don’t care what you’re singing, so the less you break out into the unplugged shit, the better. Variety for the sake of variety just sucks. In my own work, I know to stay with what I do best: banging teen guppies in the tub until they cry.
Also, note to your producer: album titles more than 6 words are moronic and annoying. No one will ever remember it (I’m not sure they would anyway). And if you keep trying to be like Kurt Cobain, please, skip to the end part which involves a bottle of vodka and a shotgun.
