aaamusic | On 24, Jul 2011

Sometimes, an album sets your soul on fire and causes it to rise from the ashes. Sometimes an album simply passes you by. Sometimes an album makes me question my choice of occupation. Unfortunately, Breathe Carolina’s ‘Hell Is What You Make It’ is of the third category.

 

After a heavily produced pop buildup of an intro track with a dancefloor synth jitter, before plunging us into ‘Wooly’, which blends clubbing anthem style verses with a screamo chorus, and this bouncing back and forth between slickly-produced, tuneful, upbeat verses and crunching rabid metal guitars/roaring growls outbursts doesn’t startle so much as make you wonder if the song data is corrupt – it doesn’t contrast, it jars, none more so than the chugging post-hardcore breakdown with plaintive lead vocals chucked over the top of it. ‘Blackout’ is slightly more appealing, with a sleazy synth grind that creeps into the eardrums with slinky appeal, but the vocals are cringeworthy, computer-processed to the point of no return and thus disorientating and difficult to listen to, especially in the chorus, which repeats interminably. ‘Sweat It Out’ has an almost identical instrumental sound, with heavier reliance on screamo in the verses and melodic vocals in the chorus, and a pop song flourish, which does work to a degree, although the synth sounds become claustrophobic to the point of headache-inducing at times.

Our sentiment is ladled on with ‘Edge Of Heaven’ – a sickly electro ballad that mixes the anodyne sweetness of American “punk” bands’ slow love songs, with the fast-paced beats of a clubbing track. The synth grind/piano melody don’t compliment one another so much as clash, ditto with the processed lead vocals and raw growls and screams, as it all collapses into a plodding chorus. ‘Last Night (Vegas)’ carries on the same tones, with a strange bittersweet nostalgia over a wild party, trying to wring sympathy and emotion for a life of partying, and to be quite honest, I don’t like irony and if I didn’t feel sympathy for Nikki Sixx, it’s not happening here either.

‘They Say You Won’t Come Back’ drags us away from the saccharine overdose somewhat, with a manimalistic synth wail in the verse, although the chorus is enough to give even the healthiest listener adult-onset diabetes, and a bad case of autotune disease, which is a shame as the instrumentation of the verse isn’t as nauseating as some of what the band offer, but the end of the song suffers the same drudgery of repetition and trite, unappealing melody. The sugar and syrup is laid aside in ‘Get Off Easy’, a party anthem if there ever was one, but in no way one that really has any lasting appeal. The edginess of the verses’ dark melodies is quashed disappointingly in a frenetic dancefloor bounce in the chorus, which is frustrating as the slow synth creep does start to work well. Another frustration is that it’s only on the 10^th track ‘Waiting’ that Breathe Carolina finally find their feet, with a sleazy, techno-dance, sparky grinder that bounces off the walls and soars in the chorus with total abandon and embrace of cliché in a manner that’s almost acceptable.

The strangest thing is that for all their “alternative” posturing, Breathe Carolina are ostensibly a dance-pop act. ‘Take It Back’, with a reliance on hooks that makes Abu Hamsa seem huggable, mutters Michael Jackson influences at times, as well as a large dose of Lady Gaga’s style, possibly via osmosis, possibly on purpose, but undeniably there, for better or worse depending on your taste.

 

I can tell that Breathe Carolina are trying to really push their sound at times, and I wish I could respect that, but the music they make is at best okay and at worst, it ranks among Mark Ronson and Otitis Media infections as things that have given me earache. If hell is indeed what you make it, then my hell might well be 50 minutes of flaccid, repetitive screamo-techno-pop.

 

Author: Katie H-Halinski