The Day Music Tried To Drag Itself Out Of Its Grave And Was Beaten Back By An Ibanez

Early this year, an album came out that changed the way we look at music, by making everything else seem like an artistic masterpiece with the vision of all the great thinkers of the renaissance and ancient Greece combined. That album happens to be Reign Of Terror by Sleigh Bells. I am going to review this album track by track; in this way, you’ll never have to subject yourself to the ear-bleeding nausea that Reign causes.

Why?

True Shred Guitar:
The only true way to start an album is clearly fake crowd fanfare. Is this Sleigh Bells warning me that only fake people can enjoy this music? Who can tell? All I know is that nothing says “Hey, this band is edgy” like having the singer curse out and try to hype up the cheer machine for the first minute of the song.The actual song starts at precisely 1:11, and I could not be more sorry that it did. The song has the perfect mixture of terrible Ibanez mashing, generic pseudo-sexual lyrics, and screaming to make it sound as though a horrendous 80’s hair metal new wave experimental band playing under a bridge breeded with garage-band drum presets. I wish I had been in the studio to hear this conversation that must have commenced: Producer 1: “How can we make this band seem dangerous?” Producer 2: “Why don’t we have the lead singer say f*#k, and then censor it the second time she says it?” Producer 1: “Sweet feathers of Quetzalcoatl, that’s brilliant!”

Born To Lose:
Opening: Plastic Ibanez squealing and an electric drum beat, and NES era boss music, we’re off to a good start. This is a slower song, showing off the singer’s actual voice, so you know what it needs? If you said “Screaming!” in triumph to your computer screen then you are both correct and possibly schizophrenic. If you instead thought “Bears” then you should be ashamed. Seriously, it’s as if the echo of the singer has tourettes. I shouldn’t have said that, it makes me yearn for some Nirvana, but I must continue. Two songs in and I already want to smash my computer like a midget in a mosh pit. This is going to be a great experience.

Crush:
Why are they trying so hard to make this sound like real arena rock? Aren’t they going for the indie appeal? Could they not fill an actual stadium? Upon reflection, that is probably true. The tourettes echo has grown more confident, I feel like it will soon take over. The only words that I can hear clearly through the blaring sludge of overzealous guitar is “I’ve got a crush on you.” With all the depth that a sixth grader has to offer, the singer goes on to explain the feeling, but I can only pick out one word every sentence or so due to the guitarist apparently thinking “You know what sounds cool? Repetitive, evenly paced barre chords played with absolutely no emotion. HEY GUYS, LISTEN TO ME! IT’S SO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!” No, shut up. My anger is now Liam Neeson in Taken levels.

End Of The Line:
Hm, some peaceful, slow guitar riffs, melodic harmonics? This sounds nothing like the Sleigh Bells I’ve come to know and detest at the same level that Churchill hated Stalin. Maybe this will be the point where the album takes a hard look at itself and says “You need to change, man.” Nope, I was naive to even dream of such a thing. This song destroys the promise it had by introducing strange almost-rap and Muse style breathing. Also, they somehow managed to auto tune a guitar. It must have been the same settings they used on Nicki Minaj, because only something that heavy-duty could warp the sound that much. They must have blotted out a star somewhere to power that software.

Leader Of The Pack:
So far, it seems to follow the lead of End Of The Line. This is a good si-- and it’s back to half-hearted thrashing. That cannon shot at the beginning should have warned me, but I chose to ignore it. How I regret that decision.

Comeback Kid:
WHAMMMY BARRRRRRRRRR!
BARRRRRRRRRR CHOOOOOOORDS!
MUSSSSIIIIIIC WORDSSSSSSSSSSSZZSSSSS!
DISTORTION!
Wait, distortion seems a little extreme, let’s just do overdrive. And let’s keep those 8-bit sounds from earlier, and the garage band drums.

Demons:
Rejected Motley Crue guitar riff begins, and so does my anguish. If only I could replace my memories of this album with pictures of cats. But alas, no amount of internet searches will ever cleanse this horror from my mind. Do you see now what I go through for you people?! I know you never asked for it, but you wanted this, you cruel, baseborn fools. So I must continue, even if it ends in madness or worse, appreciation of this “music.” My only consolation is that this experience is over halfway over.

Road To Hell:
Did she just rhyme baby with babe? Did she just do it over 10 times? Why is there an awkward bridge with just heavy breathing? Is it supposed to be sexual, or just remind me of a fat man gasping for air after walking back to his car with a bag full of purchased cookies? Only two of the questions above can be answered, but I shall attempt to answer them all anyway. Yes, yes, because... Symbolism? Lastly, nope, it’s supposed to be a beached whale on fire.

You Lost Me:
This is hyper 80’s nostalgia, the kind that even modern Hollywood strays away from. I thought Kurt Cobain smashed this style of music into oblivion like a llama in a car compactor. Apparently not. That llama is still crawling miserably from place to place, leaving the occasional kidney behind it. Why can’t someone put it out of its misery?

Never Say Die:
Don’t tell me what to do. I will say what I want to, Sleigh Bells. Die, die, die, die, die, die. That’s not an instruction, but simply a sign of my rejection of you. This is the same drum beat from “Born To Lose,” and I hate you for it. Did you run out of presets? I am so very done with the whisper, overpowering guitar combo, please make it stop. Please. Please. Please, I beg of you. Nope, it’s 3:40, but it feels like a timeless expanse of darkness and Christmas ornaments. Oh, I see that there is one more song on the record.................
Why?

D.O.A.:
No. I refuse. I quit. Out of 34 minutes and 28 seconds of sound that is on this album I have listened to 32 minutes and 27 seconds. That is all the time you shall have from me, Sleigh Bells. Your album is bad and you should feel bad. Leave me in peace.

Rating: 16 out of 253 fewmets.
This album physically drained my will to live and left me an empty husk whose only purpose is to stalk the earth in ironic Buddy Holly Glasses and jean jackets. Everyone has a right to their opinion, unless you like this... failure. If you do, then you no longer get an opinion, I choose your thoughts for you from now on. In conclusion, I can recommend Reign Of Terror in one circumstance only: background music to water-boarding.