Oh boy. I'm going to do two reviews for this one. The first one will save you the trouble of reading the second, I assure you. The second review, I'm writing for a select group of people, those unable to discern awful music from anything remotely worthwhile. In any event, without any further adieu, here's review number one.

This line was taken directly from the press sheet: "Taking their moniker from a book of baby names…"

Now, for the second review.

Take the word cliché, copy, paste, and repeat until desired result is achieved. This fourth-rate Hawthorne Heights isn't content with just cutting your wrists and blacking your eyes, no sir, they've got to go straight for the jugular. Just take a peek into the liner notes for the lyrics to "I Buried My Heart in Cosmo Park." There's more talk of blood than in a B horror movie. "Slit my throat from the inside, I'll choke on my own blood."

Hey, if that'll prevent him from singing, I'm all for it. And before anyone gets any ideas, I'm using the word singing in a very loose description, because I'm not quite sure what appears on this record can fall into that category of vocal manipulations. The whiny, nasal approach of singer Rob Tweedie is a sound for sore ears, and the sporadic, utterly pointless screaming does not improve matters in the slightest. The musicians here are competent, which, is more than I can say for a few similar bands, but that will only go so far. The song structures are still entirely devoid of value, and the lyrics are just the rat poison on the tope of this rotten cake.

This is my plea to Warcon Records:

Please, please, please release something of merit. I understand the wanting to make a quick buck by flogging a dead horse here, and appealing to a nation full of kids in their girlfriends jeans stealing their moms hairspray, but for the love of God, enough. There are thousands of talented, worthy bands playing in front of 10 people a night while this garbage gets peddled to no end. I know I'm just one guy with a keyboard and soapbox to stand on here, but I assure you there's an extremely large contingent of people sick of the utter garbage polluting underground music. [Ed.'s Note: This is where Aubin steps in to point out the new Helmet album.]