To Relapse or Recover?

I had been putting off writing this particular review mostly because at the time I needed to focus my attention on developing my working knowledge of the Spanish language in a summer class. But more than anything, I did actually make several attempts to write this review, but none of the finished products were to my liking. So, I decided that rather than editing down bad reviews, I’d start fresh again, much like what Eminem did with Relapse/Recovery. What I find interesting about these two albums is that when I think back to how much I liked them when they first came out and what I think of them now, it gets me to question my own method of critiquing. What I mean is how fresh and inspiring these albums sounded when they first came out, but today when I listen to them, those feelings are long gone and now I’m left with just…songs. Not that they’re outright mediocre, it’s just that their longevity has nothing on Em’s early millennia albums.

Obviously, I’m not going to count The Re-Up as an official Eminem release because it’s more of a haphazard compilation of Em and his friends goofing off in the studio while he was stoned cold on pharmaceuticals. I doubt he even remembers assembling it, much less drawing the cover art. Some pertinent backstory: after Encore, Em decided to retire the Slim Shady persona, and released Curtain Call: The Hits shortly afterward as a retrospective swan song of sorts. During this time, he was addicted to every pill from Ambien (which he was introduced to on the set of 8 Mile), Valium, and everyone’s favorite abused pharmaceutical, Vicodin. For the five years Eminem fell of the face of the earth, he struggled with waning success, alarming weight gain, an increasingly stronger taste for drugs, and the harshest blow of all: losing his best friend, Proof, in a nightclub fight where he was fatally shot in 2006. Likewise with any addict, Em’s depression sent him spiraling into overdose after overdose until finally he got sober in 2008, and hit the studios with longtime friend/mentor/producer-in-crime, Dr. Dre. The outpour of material Em had come up with warranted a double album. However, it wasn’t released that way. When it came time to assemble the tracks for what was “Relapse 2,” he realized it could be better, so he holed up in the studio again, but with varying producers in an attempt to prove he could be even more marketable and accessible than he ever was. And to add that final twist, Em announced on his Twitter page that, “There is no Relapse 2.” This cryptic message ultimately meant that the album title would be Recovery, to fit better with the overall theme of the songs. All in all, these two albums mark the beginning of a new era for Eminem, as he tries to prove to the world that he has retained his remarkable talent for rapping, and gained new skills in the process. This review is meant to discuss Eminem’s relevance in a new decade where the game’s players have changed dramatically, as well as rap itself, and also to question whether his newfound sobriety makes him less of the rapper he once was.

Structurally, Relapse is far more consistent in its production, sound and themes. The best way to think of these two albums is to compare them to The Slim Shady LP (1999) and The Marshall Mathers LP (2000). Relapse is essentially the album that marks the return of Slim Shady, while Recovery is the return of Eminem, just like how Slim Shady introduced us all to the mischievous character, while Marshall Mathers gave us an introspective view into Eminem’s true thoughts. The same holds true to Relapse and Recovery.

On the whole, Relapse and Recovery are worlds apart as far as content and even sound is concerned. For one thing, Relapse finds Eminem on comfortable and familiar ground with producer Dr. Dre handling most all of the production work. On “Beautiful,” Eminem takes center stage again like he did in his days of The Eminem Show, and “Déjà vu,” clues us in on what happened the night he overdosed. And like The Eminem Show, he confesses past struggles and emotions towards aspects of himself that he despised and would rather forget. Clichés aside, it is an emotionally heavy track in an island by itself with far less serious and more gruesome comical tunes.

I’ve found that fans and critics alike have criticized Em for adopting an indiscernible accent on Relapse, but what they have to understand is that is not necessarily Eminem rapping on Relapse. Isn’t that what drew us to the charisma of Slim Shady in the first place? This idea of an uber depraved alter ego whose arch-solipsism was terrifying with black comedy overtones that were actually funny? On Relapse, Slim Shady is funny in a very different fashion. For instance, in songs like “Brain Damage,” we have relatable revenge fantasies acting as the vehicle for his appeal, but on tracks like “3 a.m.,” and “Insane,” we have murder and rape fantasies that aren’t relatable at all, nor are they terribly funny, but at least Em is mustering every effort he has to make the rhythms of his words co-exist nicely with the beat. My personal favorite track that displays this trait would be “Stay Wide Awake,” where Slim Shady raps with a sardonic smile, “I see my target put my car in park and approach a tender/ young girl by the name of Brenda and I pretend to befriend her/ sit down beside her like a spider hi there girl you might’a/ heard of me before see whore you’re the kinda girl that I’d a/ ssault and rape and figure why not try to make your pussy wider/ fuck you with an umbrella then open it up while the shit’s inside ya.” Sure, rape isn’t the funniest topic, but given its immense emotional gravity, it would only make sense for someone like Eminem/Slim Shady to try to put a comical spin on it. To put it in perspective, compared to the recent remarks of Rep. Todd Akin regarding legitimate rape, Slim Shady’s views seem more sensible.  

What can really bog this album down is the length. At just over 76 minutes, you begin to realize that this sounds suspiciously close to an Insane Clown Posse album. I consider that hilarious when the Marshall Mathers title track rips them mercilessly. It is one of Em’s longest albums, but somehow feels longer because of him wanting to cram in every spit and insult he recorded. So obviously it’s not on the same level as Marshall Mathers, Eminem Show and definitely not Slim Shady, but at least it doesn’t have the same amount of blatant and subpar filler tracks of Encore. 

But never fear, if you don’t care for endless murder fantasies with standard and frankly, lazy, Dr. Dre production, by golly, Recovery is for you. I found that critics were pretty evenly divided with this album, and really, their opposing claims were both right. If I had to sum up the scope of all of their valid arguments, I’d say the following: it was okay. To be more specific, I just had to laugh over how enthusiastic and consistent they were about Eminem’s new sound, but off to the side, and sheepishly, they also said: maybe his rapping is a little past his time. Ouch.

Unfortunately this holds true, but optimistically speaking, it is by no means an outright terrible Eminem album. Even though Eminem is practically using puns and asides as crutches, he eventually wins his own race to convince himself he’s back on his prime. Seriously, I have never heard him spit so much in what seems like a unnecessarily harried pace. I suspect he knows amazing breathing techniques so he can pull this off at live shows. In “Talking 2 Myself,” he acknowledges that he feels guilt for becoming a suicidally depressed pharmaceutical addict who did next to nothing for the past five years. And in the tracks to come, we are bludgeoned with that aspect of making up for lost time.

 The first quarter of the album kicks off well enough, but starts its path to monotony with, “W.T.P.,” where he actually does a pretty accurate mimic of Insane Clown Posse. Going back to “Talking 2 Myself,” we are presented with a good idea of some of the lows he experienced, but is magnified with “Going Through Changes,” which if it didn’t have that sappily utilized Black Sabbath sample as the main beat, would actually have a wrenching impact. Then what dignity that song had vanishes with lead single, “Not Afraid,” possibly one of the worst rap songs I’ve heard. Horrible beat courtesy of Boi1da, and has the gall to diss Relapse, which ironically has more fun and sincere pride to it. Every claim he’s not only back, but even better than ever starts to become your typical alpha-dog rapper boast. I almost have to laugh in the following tracks like “Seduction,” where he rapid-fire spits one syllable raps and complicated rhyme schemes that are more dizzying than awe-inspiring. “No Love” employs Haddaway’s “What Is Love?” as the basis for the entire song, and having Lil Wayne as a guest in this song makes you realize just how similar his and Em’s rapping styles are. Which leads me to ask, is Eminem content with using corny humor for the rest of his career, just like every other rapper out there?

It gets worse: the music to songs like “Space Bound” (god, that awful fucking chorus…), “25 to Life” (god, that awful fucking intro and chorus………………..the whole fucking thing’s just terrible), and “Love the Way You Lie,” (which rehashes the content of “25 to Life” with the sappiest beat in history) sound like they belong on a Drake album. No, scratch that. I wouldn’t wish these tunes on any rapper, much less Drake. What scared the shit out of me is when DJ Khalil, the producer for “Lie” did “I Need a Doctor” for Dr. Dre, and seemed like it might be on the legendary still-unreleased Detox. Listen to the two back to back and see how DJ Khalil plagiarizes himself with the same hokey emo music. But all three of these songs on Recovery see Eminem get in touch with his romantic side, even if he’s threatening to kill his mate if she plans to leave him. This probably has something to do with how he remarried Kim in 2006, and lasted for about a year before they realized they could never truly be together. Oh, and “Cinderella Man,” has no discernable purpose so you can definitely skip it. Even the only Dre track on here, “So Bad,” just adds to sinking feelings about inconsistency.

It all comes together with “You’re Never Over,” where Em summons his rap powers to provide a summary of what the album was about, that is if you forgot the first million times. For all the inspiration we could find in this song, Em is STILL using corny metaphors to drive his rapping, “Excuse the corny metaphor/ But they'll never catch up to all this energy that I've mustered.” To its credit, the music isn’t that bad, and you have to admire saving Proof’s tribute for the climactic track. Its this song that brings you up from the miles of muck and reminds you that Recovery is a good album, but only if he had a diligent and stern editor. The idea behind “You’re Never Over,” confirms that Em is going keep at his rap game until he dies for real. So regardless of whether he’s still going to keep going on this mediocre path to recovery (even the album cover screams generic), we’ll just have to grit our teeth and bear with it. Hopefully, he’ll realize that his rapping works best with storytelling. But I’m not betting on it.  

Who wins?

Relapse definitely. Recovery was only interesting during the summer it was released, but hopefully Eminem will release another album some time within a year so that maybe he can redeem himself yet again and prove he can be diverse and engagingly cinematic. My advice to Em would to be glad that he got the chance to work with other producers for a change, but recruit the Bass Brothers and his D12 cronies for a more consistent and endearingly dirty rap album. Heh, maybe next time around he’ll even diss Recovery for being sappy, calculated and stunningly corny. Nah, I wouldn’t bet on that either.

Relapse: (71%)

Music: 7

Meaning: 6

Lyrics: 8

Length: 6

Significance: 8

Overall Impression: 7

Recovery: (54%)

Music: 5

Meaning: 5

Lyrics: 5

Length: 5

Significance: 6

Overall Impression: 6

Remaining Eminem albums ranked:

1. The Marshall Mathers LP (89%)

Music: 9

Lyrics: 9

Length: 8

Meaning: 8

Significance: 10

Overall Impression: 9

2. The Slim Shady LP (85%)

Music: 8

Lyrics: 9

Meaning: 8

Length: 8

Significance: 9

Overall Impression: 9

3. The Eminem Show (83%)

Music: 8

Lyrics: 9

Meaning: 9

Length: 7

Significance: 9

Overall Impression: 8

4. Relapse (71%)

5. Encore (63%)

Music: 7

Lyrics: 6

Meaning: 6

Length: 6

Significance: 6

Overall Impression: 6

6. Infinite/The Slim Shady EP (59%)

Music: 7

Lyrics: 6

Meaning: 5

Length: 6

Significance: 5

Overall Impression: 6

7. Recovery (54%)

The Human League- Dare (1981): 73%

Just as Iggy Pop’s The Idiot (1977) has the unique distinction of being the album Ian Curtis of Joy Division listened to when he decided to end his life by hanging himself in 1981, the Human League’s most acclaimed work, Dare, has a distinction of being the last album rock critic Lester Bangs listened to before dying of an overdose of Darvon (a sort of tranquilizer), Valium, and Nyquil. People who make a living out of music usually tend to die by it as well, thus making music a religion in of itself, complete with martyrs and vehement disagreements about highly regarded ‘rock-deities.’

But as far as what Lester Bangs could have chosen to overdose to, he could have done a lot worse. Of course, maybe it would better of me to say that he shouldn’t have overdosed at all. However, I don’t have a time machine to stop him from getting fucked on pharmaceuticals and cough medicine. Nor do I have the ability to determine if Bangs listened to this album strictly for writing a review or pleasure. I tend to lean more toward the latter because this album was released about six months before Bangs’ fatal overdose, so if he was planning on writing a review for it, he would have been disappointingly late. But it does baffle me a bit when I think about how he preferred traditional rock n’ roll music, with Lou Reed being his favorite artist. So, consider this my review in honor of a fallen rock critic who passed 30 years ago, and an answer as to whether this would be a good album to die to.

Another aspect to the Human League’s career I found particularly interesting is that out of all their 9 studio releases, this album is the only one that was given above the 3-star average rating from Allmusic (this one got the classic 5-star rating). This says to me that the Human League is at least a consistently mediocre band who happened to perfect their formula for just one album. Curiously enough, their latest studio work, released last spring, still earned average reviews, but still carried their synthpop methodology. Which brings me to my next point: while Dare wasn’t exactly groundbreaking for 1981 (considering that was also the year David Byrne and Brian Eno released My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, which was one of the earliest albums to feature sampling), their music definitely holds little to no relevance in the 2010’s. To prove my point, if you are not my parents, Bob Roets, or Jonathan Pulse, and you are reading this because you have a genuine interest in Human League (like David Bowie, Trent Reznor, or the members of the Human League themselves, for example), you deserve a five-spot from me. But if you are one of the many who don’t usually read my reviews anyway, and especially don’t know about the Human League, then viola! You are the vast majority.

You see, synthpop was a marvel back in the late 70’s and for most of the 80’s as well, but the only traces of it can still be found in some modern rap albums (Drake’s Take Care, and especially Kanye West’s 808’s & Heartbreak), and the occasional indie band that incorporates cheap Casio or Sony synth keyboards. If anything, I believe the Human League are employing the same equipment that Gary Numan used for 1979’s The Pleasure Principal (famous for his one hit wonder tune, “Cars”). In fact, the whole album sounds much more like a poppier version of The Pleasure Principal, almost to the point where my ears want to convince me that Dare is a plagiarized version of that album. However, for being a superficially unoriginal album for 1981, with experienced ears, you would find it does have the advantage of existing before most of the bands this album probably inspired. The opening track, “The Things That Dreams Are Made Of,” sounds like an early demo version of Depeche Mode’s “World in My Eyes,” a song that was released about a full decade after Dare. “The Sound of the Crowd” has a beat in the similar groove vein as “I Ran,” by A Flock of Seagulls, who wouldn’t make it big with that one-hit wonder until about a year later.

For all the pop sounds you would expect to find on this album, you wouldn’t expect it to get as dark as it does. Take, “Darkness,” for instance; not a profoundly original track title, but consider this lyric: “I hesitate but it's too late/I scream and scream again/I hear colours black and red/I see sounds that fill my head/I'll never read those books again/In darkness/Where my dreams are all too clear.” The following track, “Do or Die,” despite sounding upbeat, deals with a troublesome relationship where the singer feels compelled to, “Run all day, run all night/Do or die, do or die/Got to run for your life/Do or die, do or die.” It’s repeated often enough to make you realize that the Human League is more than just another forgettable synthpop experiment.

As the album closes on “Don’t You Want Me,” perhaps their best known song and one-hit wonder, as it fades out, some of the hairs on the back of my neck stand up to know that Lester Bangs was no longer living when the needle skipped on the last groove of the album. Just like how the ending to Iggy Pop’s “China Girl” hauntingly reminds me that Ian Curtis was undoubtedly dangling from the ceiling of his kitchen by the time the needle of his record player hit the final groove of side one of the record. It is rather unfair to be the creators of a fine album, only to have part or the whole scope of its legacy be overshadowed by the fact that someone prominent or obscure alike chose to listen to it when they died. It almost creates this stigma for the album, but admittedly, if I had mentioned nothing about it, you’d be none the wiser. Maybe even pumped to listen. But do me a favor though: go on Wikipedia and look up Iggy Pop’s The Idiot (and/or read Pitchfork Media’s paragraph about why it is one of the best albums of the 70’s) and then the article for this album. Notice how Ian Curtis’ death is synonymous with The Idiot, and how there’s almost no mention of Lester Bangs’ death tied to this album. In this album’s case, it’s probably better to be a one-album wonder than an album linked with foolish and unfortunate decisions.

Music: 7

Lyrics: 7

Length: 8

Meaning: 7

Significance: 8

Overall Impression: 7

Insane Clown Posse The Amazing Jeckel Brothers (1999): 36%

Somehow I wonder if this is Stephen King’s fault for unintentionally creating ICP. His 1986 novel, IT, managed to create an entity that effectively personified any and everything that we ever were afraid of. IT, or Pennywise the Dancing Clown, mutilates and devours children, kills anybody who gets in its way, and the mere mention of IT drives one of the supporting characters to suicide. It makes sense that a story like this would appeal to the likes of horrorcore rappers from Detroit who call themselves Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope. Only instead of being everything we ever were afraid of, they’ve unintentionally turned themselves into everything any music lover despises.

It’s not like clowns have ever had that much respect to begin with. Usually whenever a kid has a birthday party where the parents feel compelled to hire a party clown, the birthday kid, as well as the guests, usually look bored or unimpressed as the clown tries like hell to entertain a bunch of children by telling bad jokes, and making herds of balloon animals. ICP, on the other hand, are clowns who love to party, and consider themselves responsible for entertaining an audience of adults; most of whom presumably live in trailer parks, and ride mopeds due to DUI/DWI busts. Throughout every one of their 11 official studio releases, J and Shaggy try like hell to entertain us with carnival mythology, and make bad jokes about psychopathic behavior. For the majority of us adults, ICP has failed to make an intimidating impact, even though the minority, who likes their music has been deemed “a loosely organized hybrid gang” by the FBI. And why ICP is putting up the funds and courage to sue the FBI over this obvious claim, I do not know. Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope may not agree that “Juggalos” are a gang, but when they’ve created cult appeal for those who are fans, doesn’t anybody who willingly puts clown paint on their faces submit themselves to becoming a member of this cult, or gang, even ridicule? To the Juggalos themselves, it’s merely a ‘free-thinking’ way of life, but it would be dangerously naïve of us to think that. In some places in America, there are Juggalos out there who do consider themselves gang members, and conduct their business accordingly.

The album itself is dubbed the fifth “Joker Card” in the Dark Carnival series of ICP studio releases, or in more accurate terms, just the fifth album. We start out with the introduction of Jake Jeckel (supposedly representing righteousness), whose character is immediately shrugged off so that J and Shaggy can take centerstage and spit their childish raps. Same goes for Jack Jeckel, who more or less represents pure evil and is introduced near the end of the album. These characters are only central to the album title, because they are only mentioned in their respective tracks, and never referenced again. This leads me to believe that ICP wanted a theme, but probably about halfway during the production, decided that it was probably more difficult to pull off than what they realized. But since J and Shaggy would rather take over the album themselves, these characters are meaningless. And supposedly, this is considered their best album.

The problem I noticed within the first 10 minutes of the album is how unfocused it is. “Bring It On” has difficulty in deciding which beat it should carry on with for five minutes. Nor are there actual raps either; more like couplet poems that happen to have a haphazard flow.

My theory as to why ICP is so hated is not necessarily the music (handled by longtime producer Mike E. Clark), but pretending to have a worthy message (yet another battle between good and evil, but if this album was called anything else, I wouldn’t have picked up on that), and undermining it with useless and frustratingly endless hardcore rap schticks. This use of messages and how they convey them to an audience is what separates ICP from fellow Detroit horrorcore rapper Eminem. Eminem tells horrifying stories and uses vulgarity as emphatic catharsis. ICP is pretty much the other way around where they don’t really tell stories at all and employs vulgarity simply because they believe that’s what makes them hardcore. It’s an endless stream perpetuated by songs like “I Want My Shit,” “Bitches” (featuring a dissociative verse from Ol’ Dirty Bastard), “Another Love Song,” “I Stab People,” and probably the worst track on here, “The Shaggy Show,” where ICP members endlessly hype an appearance by Snoop Dogg, who at this point in his career was also using his image to sell Girls Gone Wild tapes, and putting out tacky fucking albums and album covers like “Da Game is to Be Sold, Not to Be Told.” Also, dissing the Beastie Boys and the Dalai-Lama in “Fuck the World” is a move that pretty much begs your persona to be ridiculed and disrespected.

All in all, I don’t believe ICP represents the absolute nadir of what music is capable of; believe me, I’ve heard worse rhymes and beats from respectable and widely dissed artists alike. The problem is these clowns believe they are so hardcore, they don’t come across as such. They just exist to entertain and justify legions of trailer park inhabitants, and endorse the only drink they can afford, Faygo. What baffles me about Juggalos is how they claim to adopt a free-thinking way of life, but the ideologies ICP seem to endorse are myopic and involves malicious violence towards anybody, especially women, or those who aren’t “down with the clown.” The misogyny is so overwhelming, it makes me wonder how a female Juggalo interprets their music. So in their world, you are a free-thinker, but only if you paint your face, listen to artists on the Psychopathic label, and consume endless amounts of Faygo. Sorry guys, but a clown is still just a clown.

Music: 5

Lyrics: 3

Meaning: 2

Length: 4

Significance: 3

Overall Impression: 4

Danzig Blackacidevil (1996): 25%

Today I learned about a phenomenon called the “Streisand effect.” It means that whenever some juicy piece of gossip or controversial happening is intentionally downplayed by the person it concerns, that action usually results in the media and public at large wanting to know more about it. In simpler economic terms, when the supply of details are taken away or are few to begin with, the demand for knowledge about it increases. And I’m guessing what lured you here in the first place is the prominent display of this album’s incredibly low percentage. I also just realized that in my attempt to discourage you, the audience, from pursuing this album, I may be inadvertently arousing your curiosity for just how bad it is. The reason this review totals over 1000 words is so that I will cover the entire spectrum of this album so you won’t have any desire to listen to it. Ultimately, can I prove the Streisand effect wrong?

After the dissolution of his old band that featured talented musicians, Glenn Danzig sought a different musical direction with his next album after the somewhat ho-hum heavy metal songs of 4p. But when I put this in my CD player and started listening to Danzig’s attempt at an industrial metal album, 4p now sounds like a god-given swan song to the good times that was the old Danzig band.

On Blackacidevil, Danzig is reinventing himself in the most literal sense; so much so that it doesn’t sound like a Danzig album at all. Metalheads the world over can recognize his voice in an instant, but Danzig’s distinct vocal style hardly rises at all, and is instead drowned down below the swamp of viscous industrial fuzz that coats the album. In fact, it would make more sense to have a band called Blackacidevil release a tribute album titled Danzig. At least then we’d have an explanation as to why this album sounds so underdeveloped and poorly executed. You also know this album is in trouble when the tracks are about two minutes too long a piece, and most of them begin with the same electronic stuttering.

I’m not sure why Disney (ironically, the parent company of Hollywood Records, who financed and distributed this album) bothered putting up a stink with Danzig’s liking towards satanic imagery and other death-related themes in the first place. It’s not as if we can understand what Danzig is saying on this album anyway, but it doesn’t help that we have a lyric sheet to guide us through the songs anyway (lyrical detail later). This is another classic case of the Streisand effect where if Disney didn’t lift a finger to publically denounce it and drop Danzig from the Hollywood Records label, I’m sure it would have gone totally unnoticed to the point where even Wikipedia wouldn’t know about this album. From there, I wouldn’t know about the album, and you wouldn’t know about the album either. See how this works?

As we skim through the credits, we can be assured that this is all Danzig’s fault. He is credited as the sole producer of the album as well as the performer for most of the so-called instruments that are featured within. As always, the lyrics detail Danzig’s ongoing obsession with the occult and all of the death, demons, sex and satanic allegories that come with it. This time, it would have been for the best if Danzig decided to not include a lyric sheet. Here’s why:

“Girl I’m gonna make you come/ Free your body with my gun” (repeated about 5 times throughout “7^th House”)

“Your heart stops dead/ you have no pulse” (Yep, that’s how the heart works, all right)

“Like your floating on a river of pain” (Apparently people were making these grammatical errors long before the advent of texting)

“Rape the garden of infernal delights/ Wrap the snake in between your legs” (I can’t tell if this is a biblical criticism or another one of Danzig’s fantasies about the eating of the forbidden fruit with sexual overtones).

And it just goes on from there.

However, if there is one note of praise I have to offer this album is that at least Danzig himself is willing to defend it. Too many awesome bands and artists have released works that even they aren’t proud of, and when they go on record acknowledging just that, then the public removes all doubt that it’s a crappy album or decreases their sentimental value for it. From what I understand of the information I’ve read on this album, Danzig created it mostly to test who his core audience is. But to take some of that praise away, he shrugged off the “Mother” fans who would rather hear more heavy metal from Danzig than an album like this. Even at the lowest points of the first era of the Danzig band, they had actual songs and structure working for them. Here, everything seems slapped together in the most careless sense. Of course the best track here is the Black Sabbath cover of “Hand of Doom,” where we can actually hear Jerry Cantrell’s guitar contributions (he’s featured on two other tracks, but where his signature guitar sounds come in, I do not know).

My musical weakness has always been for industrial music, mostly because I have always expressed interest whenever musicians and machines compete with each other to make inhuman sounding records that have human qualities shining through the cracks. Now, my interest in this genre has been shaken thanks to this lowly piece of “art.” Hopefully by now you have resisted the Streisand effect, and will forget you even read this review.

Music: 2

Lyrics: 3

Length: 2

Meaning: 2

Significance: 3

Overall Impression: 3