The UK has a lot to answer for with its mainstream rock/metal talent, but then again, the UK has a lot to answer for with regards to many other things. The long list of reprobates include the likes of Amy Winehouse, footballers and their unexplainable wage demands and politicians expensing everything from their second homes to their swimming pools so that the tax payer can pick up the bill.

No wonder there’s a recession.

All this seems to have no impact on Bring Me The Horizon though and their shiny new album with one of the longest (and most ridiculous) titles in recent memory. It would be expected that given the economic downturn that luxuries such as artwork, budget for music videos but above all recording with a top producer would be among the first casualties of financial scrutiny. No such chance here, this album sounds massive, with each detail nipped, tucked and honed to absolute perfection, poising it to launch the band towards the echelons of mega-stardom.

The figures and media hype already back this up as the album has charted well in the UK, US and Australia, on top of this the sheer level of hysteria surrounding them hints that the master plan to take over the world is coming to fruition. Even if the rest of the world’s sane population refutes this it seems that the ascent of their profile is unstoppable. Furthermore, the band are so acutely aware of what moves to make but most importantly, on how to shape the perceptions and tastes of their fan base, mainstream metal press and the stragglers who are still undecided whether they like them or not (but are leaning towards to them), that they could in theory release anything, as long as their logo was emblazoned all over it.

Case in point, the plundering from The Red Chord, At The Gates, Suicide Silence, Aborted and The Black Dahlia Murder as well as all the bands on Trustkill & Ferret that ever wrote a breakdown, to formulate their early work have been marginalized considerably on this album. There is no Swedish gallop, nor dual shrieked/guttural vocal interplay nor a cast iron arsenal of breakdowns (this is the one element though that is not altogether eradicated). After all, trying to out-breakdown Suicide Silence and out-metal The Black Dahlia Murder was so 2006/07. This season it’s all about ripping Misery Signals, Shai Hulud, Metallica (BMTH’s bloated sense of grandeur as there is a strong feeling that they view this album as their Master of Puppets), Everytime I Die and more.

Launched by the six minute plus “Crucify Me,” it’s overt that BMTH intend to not only make the transition to mega-stardom, but to remain there. The track is lead by a delicate, shimmering riff that gently tugs and fades repetitively, emphasising the lush production and generating an epic setting, one that’s destined to fill stadiums worldwide. When listening objectively, the first thing that comes to mind is that they have been studying, worshiping and then logically pilfering (they wouldn’t be the first) Master of Puppets, as this sounds like its intended to be their “Battery.”

The intro, like that in “Battery,” lingers briefly before bursting into one of the first frantic gallops of the album, but whereas the Metallica classic was formed around sublime riffing and duelling, there is nothing of the sort here. What’s played, are not really riffs as such but a mingled mash of several duelling melodies that clash, contort and then repeat throughout the verses under Sykes anaemic yelping (he now sounds like a less gravelly Keith Buckley from Everytime I Die).

The sound is a fusion of diluted, less powerful Botch styled scrapes and are dressed with cascading melodies that could equally be pulled from either Misery Signals or Shai Hulud but having neither the grace nor grandeur of those metalcore greats. There’s just simply no bite, no power to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention, it’s synthetic, vacuous, they chug on insignificantly leaving no real impression.

That alone is not really grounds to write off an album so early into its playtime, but what follows are a series of insane song writing choices that plague and ultimately ruin the album. Exhibit one, around minute two of “Crucify Me,” some of the most annoying female vocals ever aloofly saunter in and stop everything else, dead. They mumble drearily the album title with a sulky childish twang, over and over. Frankly, they sound horrible, and regrettably don’t disappear, they hang around annoyingly until the track’s conclusion.

Now I have nothing against female vocals, in fact, done right, they are supremely powerful, but their utilisation here is awful. The tone is wrong, there is no weight or richness in her voice but that’s nothing in comparison to the delivery, because it’s shockingly dire. The intent is to sound ethereal and haunting but rather comes out as an eight year old reading badly from a hymn sheet, and in the context of the track it makes no sense at all!

That’s not the end of it though. To make matters worse, later on in the track the female vocals are distorted, mangled and transformed into a dance beat/rhythm that sounds like it should be on a trance compilation. It’s a truly bizarre decision, but above anything else, it violently churns my gut, and makes me wonder if I am just getting old and don’t understand music anymore, or, if my instinct is right and that this album is nothing but a waste of time.

As if to apologize for this musical heresy, there are plenty of beefy gang vocals throughout to offset and maybe even displace the memory and presence of the female vocals. Despite this, there’s another problem, although the lyrics are different (“Pray for the dead,”) the rhythm and flow sounds almost exactly like those in Comeback Kid’s “Wake The Dead,” it could be coincidence, or it could be they hoped that no one would notice if they slipped that in.

From then on, the mess rolls forward. Be it more Misery Signals/Shai Hulud worship and dilution in the tracks that immediately follow the opener, namely “Anthem,” and “It Never Ends,” or yet more insane song writing choices as on “Don’t Go.” To be fair, “Don’t Go,” does start promisingly, with mournful My Dying Bride styled atmospherics beginning the track, but then this is quashed when Sykes begins yelping again and then as if to raise the middle finger even more defiantly, the female vocalist from “Crucify Me,” makes a return to mumble more nonsense.

As much as they infuriate and frustrate me, I do want to like and support BMTH, but they just seem to manage every single time to prevent me from doing so. Most annoying is that it’s clear that BMTH love music (although Oli Sykes openly professing a love for Linkin Park has me thinking otherwise), that they want to push their own forward and write something that reflects their obvious natural talent, but now, after three albums it seems that the older they get, the harder it is for me to have time for them, but most importantly, connect with them.

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