On my travels thru the twisted world o’ the internet i managed to stumble ’pon a rabbit hole surrounding some nazi Vtuber ( not surprising ) who calls herself the “Alex Jones of Vtubing”, whate’er that is ( ¿does that mean she’ll end up getting sued to bankruptcy & losing her anime fox girl to the company that owns The Onion, toounfortunately some other bidder, ’cause the judge hates funny trolls? ), & seems to exist as goon material for sad fascists & some Vice article that used to exist on her, but was taken down after she threatened a lawsuit, ’cause Vice came to their senses & realized they were wasting their time writing articles on fucking Vtubers when they could be writing ’bout much mo’ important topics, like… ¿sexy clowns? You know what, ne’er mind.
Anyway, unlike Vice, I’m not interested in or surprised by this edgelord’s racism, transphobia ( which, given her hiding ’hind a fake anime girl, very well may be self-hating projection ’bout her own fetishes from someone a transphobe would insist is a “man” ) or the laughably pathetic keyboard katana-swinging regarding killing communists from someone who, again, cowardly hides ’hind a fake anime girl & would probably be too timid to look a real communist in the eyes outside the bedroom she spends all her time in, much less stab 1; all I care ’bout is the hilarious photo by an apparent fan o’ hers:
Surrounding & ’bove a bunch o’ Nazi literature, including a beautifully hardcovered copy o’ In His Own Words: The Essential Speeches of Adolf Hitler ( tho also, only I noticed, a 1 weird copy o’ The Philosophy of Marx — tho after closer inspection I found it wasn’t the popular 1 by Étienne Balibar, but some goofy woo-filled critique arguing that Hegelian dialectics “was not a mystical, external force, but rather an organic element of life”, whate’er that means, by a guy literally named “Giovanni Gentile” with the words “NO NO NO NO…” repeated all o’er the cover, which sure shows intellectual seriousness — which just goes to show that e’en now the Nationalist Socialists can’t thrive without parasitically stealing from socialists, since they can’t create anything original themselves ) are 2 gooner anime dolls, 1 showing off her pretty pink panty shot, while in the bottom left are Yu-Gi-Oh manga & in the upper left are good ol’ Breaking Benjamin vinyl. Bitch, e’en I don’t have vinyl for Breaking Benjamin: I love this band, but good luck getting anything more out o’ its o’erproduced sound that you couldn’t get thru digital formats. Also, it’s their shitty new albums. That just means you like wasting money.
on the night o’ may 10 & the morn o’ may 11, 2025, I had several interesting dreams:
most o’ them tied round an imaginary surreal dark comedy cartoon mostly revolving round a young child heavily inspired by nasrin, including wearing sweatpants, but far braver & with a childlike lack o’ any sense o’ morality beyond their own desires, exploring seemingly infinitely sprawling surreal architecture probably inspired by anthology of the killer. i think this series was called “dollhouse” or something, but it’s fuzzy. they are part o’ a family o’ 20 kids — 10 boys, 9 girls, & the aforementioned young child, the youngest o’ the family, who also like nasrin rejects being gendered, but unlike nasrin, also claims to have infinite dna & infinite chromosomes that no existing computer has the memory to process for some reason, whate’er relevance that has — who mostly do their own things: the father is always out “working” or @ home sleeping, & the mother spends all her time trying to clean the e’erexpanding home or passed out after spiking on some drug with a name that sounds like “animephidesinal”, which she gets by essentially prostituting herself to dealers ( dreams, i think you’re trying too hard to be tritely edgy here; ¿why can’t she just find the animephidesinal in the e’erexpanding home? ), she takes to try keeping herself up to clean the house. the kids mostly take care o’ themselves, entertaining themselves & feeding themselves on what they find in the e’erexpanding home. save for the youngest child, my dreams didn’t focus on them much. for the parents, there were the following exchanges:
[ both sitting in bed together, staring straight into the void, not looking @ each other ]
mother: husband, I truly do not feel comfortable with you going out “working” all the time. we do not need the money: the e’erexpanding universe provides us with infinite resources. i wish you would spend mo’ time @ home not sleeping helping me clean this e’erexpanding home.
father: i understand your concerns, but i am afraid my need to go out & work is a boundary o’ mine that i cannot just drop. with full honesty, i do not understand why you feel the need to clean our infinitely-sized home, when this is a clearly impossible endeavor &, to be fully honest, i am not comfortable with your reliance on pharmaceutical drugs in order to facilitate you in your task, tho i understand why you feel the need to do so.
mother: ok, i understand, & i hear your concerns. but nobody can say that we do not communicate with each other.
i don’t remember the context o’ this exchange ’tween the father & the youngest child. i think ’twas seeing the child reading or maybe after learning o’ the child’s explorations thru the e’erexpanding universe:
father: child, do not think that you must strive to be a rich inventor or sexy celebrity. it is perfectly ok for you to have an ordinary job & an ordinary life.
the dreams mainly focused on the youngest child, who unlike their lazy siblings who mostly sat around in the center o’ their e’erexpanding home watching tv or playing with toys, would oft venture out into the outer realms o’ their e’erexpanding universe. i remember there being 3 episodes:
1. the pilot, which, weirdly, had multiple variations, & was quite different from the rest, including the lack o’ siblings, them living in a normal home, not an e’erexpanding 1, & them not being trans yet. it’s a snowy day & the youngest child walks down a suburban sidewalk to some neighbor’s house to complete some challenge. i think the neighbor somehow realized the youngest child’s precocious brilliance & invited them o’er. the neighbor has a creepy aura to which the youngest child is oblivious. ( indeed, there is an unnerving pattern o’ adult men creeping on the youngest child, including while they’re exploring the city in the 3rd episode, tho thankfully nothing e’er happens to them & the youngest child themself is ne’er sexualized in any way ). the youngest child is challenged to race thru the neighbor’s house full o’ bizarre architecture trying to collect all 70 orbs on the way. @ the end they reach an open town square & when coming up to a large temple, a lion statue comes to life, jumps in front o’ the youngest child, & offers them a ride. they take it & race thru the inside o’ the temple, ending with them dismounting & meeting back up with the neighbor, as well as their parents, the former o’ whom lets them know they won. there are mo’ variations, — including 1 where the youngest child goes inside a different temple without the lion statue or riding the lion — seemingly attempting to beat earlier records, but failing, presumably ’cause they’re rushing too much & missing orbs & having to suddenly turn back to get them.
2. probably the most characteristic o’ the series, & the longest. the youngest child explores the outer realms o’ their home, with bizarre architecture going in seemingly e’ery direction. the youngest child begins fearing for their own life & is immediately met with absurdly coincidental circumstances that seem aimed @ harming them, including 1 man suddenly rushing in & spraying a pump into the air while crying out, “¡it’s poison spray time!”, causing e’eryone to drop to the floor, tho with bored expressions that indicate a lack o’ concern with their impending demises. the youngest child, howe’er, manages to crawl away under desk, guarded from the poison. the youngest child then vies to find an isolated corner by themself, away from anyone who could harm them. howe’er, when they think they find 1, a seemingly innocuous hippo balloon tries to follow. wanting to be alone, the youngest child keeps shoving the hippo balloon back, only for it to morph into a stocky gremlin, who, annoyed @ the youngest child’s rejection, tries to attack the youngest child. howe’er the youngest child manages to escape.
3. the parents go out & the youngest child uses this opportunity to sneak out into the big city, only to be frustrated as they try to explore. for whate’er reason, their movements are sluggish, especially while trying to cross the street, & the traffic lights are erratic, changing from green to yellow to red to yellow to green to red without any warning. luckily for them, the cars seemed to have become sluggish, too, & they are able to make it to the other side before the cars race thru. the youngest child discovers that there is a game going on — a kind o’ easter egg hunt, but for teddy bears, strewn thruout the buildings. howe’er, as they try to climb buildings, they are frustrated. all they want to do is go from rooftop to rooftop. then they remember they know a way to mix together chemicals to give themself the power to make great leaps &, after doing so & drinking the vial o’ green liquid, they begin leaping from roof to roof, snatching up as many teddy bears as they can. howe’er, they start to see rooftops without any teddy bears. soon after, they run into a man on a jetpack, who, seeing the youngest child collecting teddy bears, also, tries to attack them, grabbing their bag in mid jump & flinging them @ another building’s wall in the hopes o’ killing them. before their new foe looks down to see if he achieved his goal, the youngest child clings tightly to the wall & scrambles round to the other side before he can see them on the wall. while behind the foe, they jump up & knock him from behind, causing him to crash down to the pavement to his demise. they then climb down & take their teddy bears & take them to the content attendant, who is surprised by just how many teddy bears they were able to get, & they are declared the winner.
analysis:
while people like to focus on the surreal aspects o’ dreams, what most fascinates me are the logical parts — not in terms o’ trite freudian implications o’ the dreamer’s emotional or psychological state, as the only psychological state most o’ my dreams imply are those o’ a storyteller wanting to tell an interesting story, but the seemingly conscious thematic aspects that my subconscious manages to compose.
there is a clear theme o’ domestic satire to this series’ family, with the parody pharmaceutical drug name or the absurdly cliché way the parents act in their traditional gendered roles, despite neither being useful in the postscarcity world in which they seem to live, where the father’s “work” offers nothing for the family — &, in fact, seems to be implied to not be real work, but just a ’scuse to escape his family, or perhaps escape the ignominy o’ being a stay-@-home father. indeed, it seems that the parents’ fixation on following traditional parental roles, ironically, causes them to neglect what emotional roles they may still offer their children, with whom they seem to ne’er interact. it’s hard not to conclude that the children would thrive just as well without their parents now, which makes me wonder if their absurd clinging to their traditional gendered parental roles is a desperate way to force themselves to fit a role & justify an existence that seems redundant in this scary postscarcity anarchy o’ infinite expansion & change.
contrast that with the youngest child, the main character, who doesn’t seem to find this new anarchist universe scary, but exciting, embracing it in a nietzchean way, exploring this infinity for the pleasure o’ fulfilling their just-as-infinite curiosity & will to power for success by taking advantage o’ their precocious brilliance greater than e’en most o’ the adults in this radical world o’erturning social hierarchies. contrast that with their complacent siblings, so incurious & dull-minded that they stay in their same normal center o’ the home, mostly sticking to their traditional form o’ entertainment in the form o’ tv. unlike their parents, they do not seem to be clinging to tv out o’ any conscious yearning for getting back tradition, but out o’ thoughtless default: they’d been getting satisfaction from tv for as long as they’ve remembered; ¿why stop now? ¿what do they need outside their small, safe center? if the youngest child is the nietzchean übermench, their siblings are the poster children for nietzche’s “last men”.
&, ’course, the youngest child goes to the other extreme o’ their parents’ insistence on keeping to traditional gender roles, rejecting gender completely with the boast that they are too infinite to be any gender — as nasrin would say, paraphrasing nietzche emself, being “above male & female”. i love the brilliance o’ my dreams starting by splitting the children into an even 10-10 male-female, like an e’en mo’ exaggerated version o’ the brady bunch, but then going back & breaking that evenness by making the youngest child be nonbinary. the rebellious youngest child clearly refused to submit to their father’s appeal for them to get an ordinary job & live an ordinary life, e’en if it their supernova expansion intruded on their family’s orderly pasture: the rest o’ their family can want order all they want; they insist on chaos. interestingly, i don’t think anywhere in my dream ’twas e’er specified what any o’ their family thought o’ their transition & whether or not they respected their pronouns; they certainly ne’er showed any concern for what any o’ their family members might think o’ it.
despite this labored analysis, hardly any o’ these themes or satire required much thought, which is how my dreams managed to compose such themes — & i don’t e’en know if the breakage o’ the gender balance was intentional or just my dreams forgetting 1 thing & rushing forward into the next idea. indeed, much o’ it is cliché & obvious, sometimes falling into needlessly gruesome trite forms o’ sexist sexual violence gainst those traditionally interpreted as women that my conscious mind would avoid composing. it’s notable that despite how seemingly anarchic this e’erexpanding universe it is, the need for women to give up sex to buy material needs still exists, as do child predators going after who they think are li’l girls. these by themself could be an ironic commentary on the uglier side o’ traditional gender roles that reactionaries prefer to ignore; but mo’ damning is the implications o’ the youngest child needing to give up their gender to liberate themself, to be “infinite” — they themself frame it mo’ as escaping the millstone o’ gender rather than a positive affinity toward nonbinariness itself. ( then again, given the pathetic model their parents provide for masculinity & femininity, having to go out & pretend to work to be a “real” man or drug oneself up to be a “real” mother, it’s not surprising such an impressionable child would see nothing worthwhile in either being a woman or a man ).
&, ’course, some o’ it is just lazy rehashing o’ images imprinted on my mind with questionable relevance: the youngest child being clearly heavily based on my consciously-created character nasrin ( i should note that i don’t e’en remember if the youngest child doesn’t share any other features, like hair color, with nasrin, nor that they use “they” as a pronoun instead o’ “e”: i just didn’t want to make up similarities that didn’t necessarily exist in my dreams ), the infinite expanse being inspired by anthology of the killer architecture, the prominence o’ the city in the 3rd episode probably inspired by my constant travels to seattle, the seemingly arbitrary focus on collecting things to “win” in episodes 1 & 3 being inspired by my fixation on collectathon video games, — they strikingly run on logic that only makes sense in video games, despite ostensibly not being a video game itself — & the focus on a loner exploring strange environs, also a fixation o’ mine.
¿Remember Saliva? They did that song “Click Click Boom” & the album Every Six Seconds, which apparently went platinum. While not as popularly hated as the big nu-metal lolpigs like Limp Dick, Staind Boxer Shorts, or since their recent crashout brought them back to attention, Trapt Being Fascist Edgelords for Scraps o’ Attention, there are quite a few people who’ve memed on them, & my main rival in meming ’bout 2000s rock, Rocked’s “Regretting the Past”, covered the aforementioned Every Six Seconds.
I, howe’er, will not be covering that album, but what is apparently their least-selling album, Cinco Diablo, which, as this post’s title says, is just Spanish gibberish that translates to “5 Devil” & which no Spanish-speaking person says — which is why Google searches for that term just show this album or some sandwich — ’cause it sounds dumb as hell. Yes, that’s right: we’re digging e’en deeper than Rocked & going after the bottom o’ the bottom o’ the barrel.
¿Why did I pick this album? Where, I’ll just reveal how the sausage is made & give you my 3 ( nonbinding ) guidelines I follow when deciding what albums to review:
Ideally, Rocked hasn’t already covered it in “Regretting the Past”
Ideally, it’s not something that e’eryone on the internet talks ’bout
Ideally, it’s something I actually listened to in the 2000s & for which I harbor some nostalgia/embarrassment
While Every Six Seconds only fits 1 o’ those 3 criteria, unfortunately, Cinco Diablo fits all 3. I remember I stumbled ’pon this album @ my local library where I checked out albums instead o’ buying them, ’cause ’twas too broke & cheap & lol on the idea o’ e’en high school me paying money for fucking Saliva, & checked it out ’cause I remember this band as the “Click Click Boom” “Your Disease” — I actually preferred that song as a teen — band. I haven’t thought ’bout this album much since then beyond seeing it sometimes when digging thru my ol’ MP3s.
1. Family Reunion
¿Where do I e’en start? I love how the singer, Josey Scott, sings all tough & badass, but covers up his filthy mouth by saying “motherlovin’”. For all the flack they get for their goofy emo lyrics, Linkin Park were able to avoid swearing on their 1st 2 albums without anyone really noticing, ’cause they didn’t have to resort to words like “motherlovin’”, but for Saliva that would’ve taken actual creativity, so let’s just replace common profanities with substitutes your grandma would say instead for no reason.
Add to that the fact that this song is yet ’nother “let me make a big deal ’bout how I’m singing a song as the topic o’ the song itself”, clearly made to get crowds going in concerts, with Josey telling the audience to “sit back while i wrestle this microphone” — yeah, you show that microphone who’s tough. This song also sounds like the most halfassed attempt @ cultlike emotional manipulation o’ trying to pretend your crowd o’ randos are a “family” having a “reunion” & how them all coming together to watch a C-list nu-metal band sing 1 o’ their least successful singles will “make you feel all right” & make you “forget the world’s confusion”.
But forget the lyrics… That chorus… If you made the wise decision to avoid partaking o’ this song into your ears yourself, imagine a high-pitched squealing voice singing some hoedown-type ditty: “’cause here we come agiiiiiiiin / everybody get all your friiiiiiiiiiends”. People who are used to my reviews will note that I am by no means a full-on hipster: I’ve defended songs by Nickelback. Hell, I kinda like “Click Click Boom” & “Your Disease” in all their goofiness. So it says something when I, who grew up listening to this crap on the radio thruout the 2000s, wonder to myself how they e’er let this on the radio. I don’t e’en have anything to say ’bout the guitars & drums other than that they’re there, I guess.
Grade: F
2. My Own Worst Enemy
Believe it or not, this was a song I willingly listened to — & off the radio, too — back in high school, & possibly e’en burned to a CD from a CD I checked out from the library. In a world where I knew o’ far less music than I know now & now have @ the tip o’ my fingers much better music than the slop I’d happily take from mainstream radio, when I could tolerate any song with heavy drums, chugga-chugga riffing, & a man growling o’er it, I guess I could see myself liking this in the background.
&, you know, e’eryone hates on Josey Scott’s nasally voice, but I don’t think it’s always terrible. I think he does fine when singing the prechorus in this song. I mean, the lyrics are vague trash ’bout how “you” ( which guess is the protagonist, since he’s calling himself his own worse enemy ) made him bleed & killed his dreams. ¿What dreams? ¿What the hell are you talking ’bout?
But his singing gets much worse in the chorus proper, where he enunciates “you’re gonna be dead & gowan” in such a goofy way, &, as if mocking the listener begging for a reprieve from the sound o’ ass — & I think that’s a humble request IMO — the music becomes quieter & you get to hear him much mo’ clearly enunciate that “life goes owan”. As this album promised, this is, indeed, diabolical.
I should add that the rest o’ this song’s lyrics are no better: “i’m outta control”, “i sold my soul”, “i dig this hole”, “abomination”, “hesitation”, “revelation”, “devastation”. People oft say AI generated something when they call something low-effort slop, but I actually think AI would’ve made better lyrics.
Grade: D
3. Best of Me
See, this song isn’t so bad. I kinda like the somewhat menacing way Josey sings the verses, only to burst into thoughtless shouting ’bout how he’s bending & breaking. Howe’er, we get a sharp turn into balladlike crooning just afterward, “out of the best of me / you took everything”, which e’en a mental breakdown couldn’t ’scuse. E’en the music isn’t too bad, especially the way it builds from the weird chants @ the beginning.
Grade: C
4. How Could You?
¿How could you follow that decent song with this lame-ass nu-metal ballad? Ugh, the twinkling plunking guitar strings starting with possibly the most cliché post-grunge phrase e’er, “i’m addicted to [every single thing] you [do]”, only to build into melodramatic bombast during the chorus.
Just read these poetic chorus lines:
¿how could you cheat on me? then turn your back on me you told me all the lies & hypnotized & I believed
Yes, Josey, if she successfully hypnotized you then, by definition, she made you believe — that’s how hypnotizing someone works. Pure lyrical filler.
¿What is with nu-metal & post-grunge bands & being unable to do e’en the bare minimum o’ not just stating outright what kind o’ song you’re writing? This is why people shit their pants @ Deftones making the most basic o’ abstract imagery: ’cause it’s legitimately shocking to see baseline competent lyricism in a genre where it’s OK to just write, “that bitch cucked me with my friend / now this is the end”, which I’m pretty sure is a real Theory of a Dead Man song.
Grade: F
5. Hunt You Down
A bunch o’ generic riffs, a pause, & then, “¡HUUUUUAGGGHHH!”. Brilliant.
But it doesn’t stop there. Next we get Josey in his squeaky voice valley-girl-rapping ’bout how “i am the master of this game / & everybody knows my name” & how “you have thrown the gauntlet down” & how he’s the “one who wears the crown” & how “when you chose to raise your hand / that’s when a boy messed with a man”. This sounds like shit a sword collector on YouTube would write. But then he ends the chorus by growling, “i will always hunt you DOOOOOOWWWWN…”.
This song sounds like ass with its sputtering drums & weird beep in the background during the verses & basic guitar chugging during the choruses… But it does make me laugh, so I’ll save it from a F grade with an emoji grade:
Grade: 👑
6. Judgment Day
OK, this is where e’en my high school self had too high standards to keep listening, so the rest o’ these are mo’ blurry to my memory. I can say that I’m already starting to get a headache from the thick, textureless guitar riffs that fill e’ery 1 o’ these songs, clearly falling into the philosophy that louder is better. I can only assume that if I were to look @ the wavelengths o’ these songs in Audacity they’d just show blue rectangles. The annoying chorus o’ “BANG BANG BANG / another body goes”, both hokey sing-songy & thudding, a terrible combination, doesn’t help.
Arguably, this is a better song than any o’ the previous songs, a’least lyrically, as it’s mo’ than just vague boasts ’bout how tough the singer is or whining ’bout some ex, but is instead the cliché hard rock trope o’ a song ’bout the troubles o’ soldiers in the war & how they just want to go home & raise their families. It’s something, I guess — it’s something weaker than the average song off Disturbed’s Ten Thousand Fists, which I considered 1 o’ their weaker albums, so not much. Then again, the western style matched with the description o’ desert-like weather — presumably referencing the middle east — is kind o’ an interesting mix.
Sonically, this song’s only reprieve is the weird noodly faux-southern guitar solo during the bridge.
Grade: D
7. Forever And a Day
Another shitty love ballad. ¿Why would a band named “Saliva” make so many love ballads?
The music’s what you’d expect, — a blend o’ the worst elements o’ pop moaning & tweening with stock hard rock elements for “flavor” — so I’ll focus on the lyrics, which are the worst on this album so far. You know it’s all downhill when you start with the lyrics, “the complicated ways of love / become all you’re thinking of”. Later we get an e’en better rhyme pair with “compromises” & “eyes and”.
E’en this song’s concept is stupid: “forever and a day” is both inane in itself, being no greater than just “forever”, & yet still a cliché. ¿Couldn’t you come up with something mo’ creative, like “till the day i learn to write good lyrics”? I’d argue that that would hammer in the eternity angle e’en better.
Grade: F
8. I’m Coming Back
This song’s beginning is just storebrand “Down with the Sickness”, with the bland marching drums & the whispered, “¿are you ready?”, but without all the funny stuff afterward. Instead, Josey whines ’bout some vague badness going on now like an ol’ man yelling out clouds, crying, “¿what happened to the world we grew up in? / ¿was it this serious?”. It’s all stock clichés with agonizingly corny rhymes: “road’s too long to follow”, “pain’s too much to swallow”, “seems there’s no tomorrow”. If they needed a 4th rhyming line I would bet money it’d be “feels like my time is borrowed”.
Meanwhile, the verses have the other problem o’ not e’en trying to rhyme, “rhyming” “dangerous” with “serious”, & then “serious” again, which is rhymed with “back to us”.
& then in the bridge they do the generic marching drums & “¿are you ready?” & I’m like, dude, this isn’t a hard song, stop adding this weird bravado shit ’tween whining ’bout how much pain you’re feeling. It’s like if partway thru “Crawling” Chester Bennington suddenly shouted, “¡now i’m slappin’ ya with my big dick!”, ’cept that would actually be funny & probably would’ve made that song better.
Grade: F
9. Southern Girls
¿Do I need to review a song called “Southern Girls”? ¿Do you think a song called “Southern Girls” by Saliva has any chance o’ being good? No, I don’t need to hear Josey in his valley-girl country accent jizz all o’er me with lines ’bout girls with “baby faces” ( CERTIFIED LOVERBOY CERTIFIED PEDOPHILE WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP ) & “orange knee-high hips” — hold it, ¿what the fuck does that mean? 1st, ¿why is the girl orange? 2nd… ¿“knee-high hips”? ¿DO YOU IDIOTS KNOW WHAT HIPS ARE? HIPS ARE BY DEFINITION NOT UP TO YOUR KNEE BUT WAY HIGHER. AUUUUUGGGGGHHHH.
If that kind o’ alien doesn’t turn you on, Josey also talks ’bout wanting a girl who will “milk your cow” & “climb your tree” — you know, as all the bros say when talking ’bout their lays down @ the pub: “Aw, man, she totally milked my cow, dogg”.
I refuse to listen to anymore o’ this song to hear what it sounds like, but it’s ass. You can listen to yourself & dare tell me I missed some great guitar licks somewhere or just accept that a song with the line “they can milk your cow” could have the riffs from “War Pigs” & still not make up for it.
Grade: F
10. So Long
¡Thank god!
¿Why does this song start with weird spacey electronic notes? ¿Who said to themselves they wanted fucking Saliva to do space rock but shitty? Well, good news, it ends soon & is replaced by the same generic soft riffs & crooning on all the other lame ballads — tho they do add some goofy spacey filter that makes his voice sound far away @ the start o’ the 2nd chorus for no reason.
Grade: F
Final Verdict
Tho the Hollywood Undead album was far cringier, I honestly would rather listen to it, given that it had a’least some catchy moments. This album was shockingly bad, e’en by the standards o’ what we normally listen to. I’m not surprised this album was the worst-selling Saliva album: e’en if you liked Saliva’s hits like “Click Click Boom” & “Your Disease”, hardly any o’ the songs on this album e’en match their caliber. ¿Who would listen to Every Six Seconds & think, “this band should do schmaltzy emo ballads & fake country shit”? ¿Who do you think you are, Saliva, Machine Gun Kelly?
