Review Summary: Hell is what you make of it… in an 8-bit, drug induced coma
Enter the tumultuous world of Blood on the Dance Floor; without delving too deeply into their colorful tapestry of life experiences, to say they’ve found themselves at the centerfold of controversy is saying something similar to a paraphrased line from the completely memorable, and of course witty
Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, “Crime wave in Gotham! In other news; water, wet.” After an unexpected line-up change following additional abuse allegations, 'Dahvie Vanity' and his new bandmate / dominatrix / girlfriend 'Fallon Vendetta' have put forth the band’s ninth full length album ‘Kawaii Monster’. How does it hold up? Well, if I said it held up well, God will have truly abandoned me as a lost cause after all.
The duo claimed it would be a return to roots album, honing in on the non-serious, sexually fueled party atmosphere of the first three albums ‘Let’s Start a Riot’, ‘It’s Hard to Be a Diamond’, and ‘Epic’ saying that they wanted to make an album that’s fun, silly, and catchy to usher in a new era for the band. While it definitely returned to the same stylings as Dahvie’s original work, it somehow manages to sound even cheaper and thinly veiled than before, while at the same time cramming in ‘sequel’ songs to the band’s most popular works in an attempt to reclaim a fanbase that’s either grown up or followed Jayy Von Monroe when he left the duo. “Yo Ho 2” being a perfect example of the sheer decline of the even the most ‘whimsical’ of their songs; while the original “Yo Ho” had booming 808s, entertainingly crass lyrics, and moderately charismatic, well produced vocal performances, the sequel almost completely lacks anything close to what would be considered a bassline, has a noticeable downgrade in the lyrical quality (which is actually impressive given the original material), and sounds like it was produced in an older version of Garage Band. Not a single song on this album has a catchy beat, or shimmering synth hook; with the exception of “Ghosting”, the sequel to the band’s most popular song “Sexting”, which has an acceptably fun chorus due to the duo being drenched in so much auto-tune, that if said vocoders were water, we’d be at the bottom of the Nile by now. Repressed trance beats, basic FL studio loops, and randomly placed acoustic twangs litter the majority of the album with songs that all try to have an individual identity, but are so basic in composition that you can barely tell the difference between most of them.
What’s truly astounding is how Dahvie Vanity managed to find a new partner who’s an even less gifted vocalist than he is. Fallon Vendetta cannot hold a tune to save her life, and her flow is actually shakier than Dahvie’s is. Her shrill, nasally one-octave performances are even worse than the rapping, considering that after two seconds of holding any note out of her base range, she flatlines into a weird moan-like rasp that’s reminiscent of when that hammered 58-year-old soccer mom tried out for American Idol back in the 2000's.
In short, is there anything here worth a mention? If you get drunk enough I suppose “Ghosting” will keep you occupied for a good four minutes, but other than that this is an absolute regression of the worst kind. Hopefully due to this album being unable to chart to save its life (being the first album from them not to chart since their debut), they’ll hang up the towel.
