"Bullet For My Valentine"Reuniting once again with producer Don Gilmore, UK natives Bullet For My Valentine have officially succumbed to their own hype. It’s a demise that uproots them from their traditional sound, and has them redefining it in glossier, more pop-friendly ways. Temper Temper unfolds formulaically, creating a distinctly generic aura where Matthew Tuck‘s lyrics have trouble establishing any sort of credibility. It exposes his deficiencies as a writer, and leaves the album falling flat in almost every conceivable way. Here are five lyrical inconsistencies that confirm Bullet for My Valentine’s slow descent towards mediocrity.

Temper Temper

Temper TemperArguably their most generic cut to date, which is definitive of the creative direction of the album. The scatting riffs and breathy high hats drive forward predictably, and Tuck shouts aimlessly at his oppressors. The problem is that while he’s doing it it’s hard not to imagine him doing it form a privileged place. His voice seems to drift around indecisively, leaving an unconvincing facade to his whole persona: [LISTEN]

Temper Temper, time to explode
Feels good when I lose control
Temper Temper, time to explode
Chamber’s empty, time to reload

P.O.W.

P.O.W.After a steady dose of mindless braggadocio, Bullet For My Valentine try to respond with a more insightful description of their mounting rage and malcontent. The riffing and instrumentation, however, is commonplace – biting hard from Metallica‘s resume – and naturally the writing suffers. They’re degrading themselves here in order to maintain a youthful disposition, and in that process they’re alienating a large portion of their original fanbase. Tuck claims that the anxiety of being stuck in a “prison” is overwhelming, but not once is that urgency felt or heard: [LISTEN]

These feelings overwhelming
It just won’t go away
I’m captive in this nightmare
And this is where I’ll stay

Tears Don’t Fall (Part 2)

Tears Don't Fall (Part 2.)It was just a matter of time before the source of BFMV’s rage revealed itself. Getting dumped is a running theme for Tuck, and after a while it gets a bit awkward – especially in the opening verse where he claims to have called his girlfriend ten thousand times. To make matters worse he goes on to say, “I know you wanna talk.” There might be some level of merit in his honesty. But instead of coming across like a tortured artist he reveals himself as some creepy delusional ex: [LISTEN]

Ten thousand times
I’ve trued, I’ve tried to call you
I know you wanna talk
I need to show you how I hurt

Saints & Sinners

Saints & SinnersAnother reflection of BFMV’s profound ignorance, they make it a point to call out the saints of the world, asking them to let out their “thunder” and “rage” in the name of revolution. But if they were to take a more careful examination, like most successful bands of their ilk do, they’d realize that historically it’s the saints who have sparked revolutions. But to expect that sort of commitment out of a band like BFMV would be too much to ask. They’re far too self-indulgent to get to that place: [LISTEN]

Saints, don’t be afraid
Let it out, I wanna hear your thunder
Sinners, are you ready to rage?

Truth Hurts

Truth HurtsThis is another awkwardly placed tale of morality, one that exams the pitfalls of drug use. Sure it’s a warm reminder that yeah, even hard dudes like BFMV can think with their hearts. But it just doesn’t project with any sort of velocity. Tuck throws out one cliche after another, and it makes you wonder how qualified he is to talk about something as complicated as addiction. Maybe he is closely connected to that world. But then wouldn’t it make sense to extend your writing beyond a terrible line likening the effects of hurt to a “bed of nails?” [LISTEN]

Truth hurts and I’m in pain
Truth hurts like a bed of nails
Letting denial eat me up inside
The truth hurts and it bleeds me dry