I will hazard to say that negative album reviews may be the most inherently hilarious form of English prose in which it is possible to express oneself.
A towering achievement of sludgy, mid-tempo homogeneity, Chapter V exists in a time warp where dead-serious, loud n' grandiose music still reads as affecting, and where blunt, graceless lyrics that shill their author's pedestrian pop-psych worldview don't bludgeon the senses -- like they do in real life. Big time.This one's not exactly a knee-slapper, but hopefully you get my drift. Anyway, they make me laugh.
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