Look. I’m going to make this as painless as I can. At the risk of going completely against the grain in the run up to this year’s World Cup, I refuse to kick a man when he’s down. Call for ‘off side’ if you will, but I’m going to turn this game around, hoof the ball back into my own half, smile at my goalie and concede an own goal. Rather gamely of me don’t you think? Anyway. Here’s my best shot.
Power-chords, a selection of fuzzy guitar-pedals, a grizzly vocal, introspective, worldly lyrical bents, enough testosterone to field an entire Olympic wrestling team and songs about cars full of gas.
The best ride of your life? Well not quite.
Legend has it that when multi-platinum, award-winning recording artist, Mark Slaughter (of Slaughter) went into the studio to produce Stereo Fuse he entered into what he described as ‘the rebirth of rock’. Well he wasn’t far wrong. This is the rebirth of rock. It’s the rebirth of rock with sickly neo-natal birth defects and an insufficient will to survive. That it ‘rocks’ is undisputed. That it ‘epitomizes new millennium modern rock’ is somehow wide of the mark.
Fairs fair, I’ve heard worse and if the likes of Nickleback, Bon Jovi, Creed, Staind, and Extreme define your rocking world you may well end up liking such heinous, growling anthems as ‘That’s Not Right’ and the bright, sparkling jangle of ‘The Best Ride’ but it’s greatest offence is that it refuses pitifully to extend the boundaries of the genres it touches. It’s no worse than most, but its certainly no better – even if it does show occasional promise.
The band these boys were in prior to forming ‘Stereo Fuse’ was forced to call it a day after an offensive joke by the singer backfired.
Well if this is staind-up comedy, I’m still waiting for a punchline.
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