Not as bad as the cover would suggest, but that doesn't mean it's anywhere near good. A revival of tuneless, hoarse shouting is not on the agenda, so it's back to open mike night at the Brooklyn Tap for you. Preferably far, far away. Suffocatingly pretentious, the kind of thing you can't imagine inflicting on someone, much less enduring by choice. Silverchair and this.
Someone call the truant officer.
Complex combinations of deathly hooky parts, ACS keep their eye on the tune and, as such, rock joyously. You can just feel the fun they have down there in the basement. Very nice indeed.