Mudvayne

I hate pretentious album titles that try to sell you Impending Doom. Are these guys fortunetellers? What do they know that we don't? If we're all gonna die soon, anyway, why are they even charging money for the CD? Why not just give it away free as a public service? Actually, all the royalties for this record should go straight to Tool and Slipknot; talk about bitin' someone's style. If either one of those bands broke up or evaporated, Mudvayne could step in, swap wigs and thusly assume the position. Not that this record isn't perfectly serviceable macho-oblivious math rock, 'cause it is. Some of it is even pretty interesting. I just wonder why bands make records that sound exactly like other bands. Is there no shame? Guess that explains the duct tape, face paint and Freddy Krueger costumes.

These guys can obviously operate their instruments, which from here sound like a blender, a lawn mower, a chain saw, an Army tank and a kitchen disposal, as well as the usual distinctly distorted weapons of mass destruction. And with stage names like Chud, Guug, Spug and Ru-D, these four fellows shouldn't be allowed anywhere near your children or grandparents. Clearly, they drool a lot. Not exactly raising the bar for personal hygiene. I would imagine they live in metal cages and eat out of a trough. (Hold on, I think the CD is skipping. Nope, that's the way it's supposed to sound. Sorry, my bad.) Don't mind me, I think I'm about to have a seizure.

Look, we can sit here and shoot the shit about nuclear annihilation and The End of the World until Trent Lott kicks The Robot on Soul Train, but the ugly truth is that there is no Ugly Truth. No screeching hockey-mask-wearing-rock-and-roll-Xerox-machine is gonna shed any light on the darkness at the end of the tunnel. We're all going up in flames someday. You knew that already. Don't give them your money. Just give it to me.