Review Summary: Regrets and more regrets.
Ah yes, those were the days. I remember distinctly that it was mid-afternoon when the horror emerged. The realization that life would never be the same. The thought that I would likewise transform into something horrendous. The end was indeed close, and as I closed my eyes, black tears still managed to leak onto my pale skin. I looked like a skeleton, only I was no longer related to humanity: my soul stolen and cast astray into the void where all demons shriek. I looked down upon my form in the air, which was on fire, and I knew we were all doomed.
A certain album came across my visage before I died, and I dared click play. I said it couldn’t be as bad as the cover, and the error of my mistake has me crying in Hell to this day. The rage of Nintendocore, an actual genre, struck fancy for certain nerds, and so albums like this one existed. The chiptune was on the nose, the noise was abrupt, and the screams? They were there, though they did not belong there.
Art allows for a wide range of genius movements. One such movement is apparently not ordinary harsh vocals over ordinary chiptune. The chiptune itself is sometimes good, and also unbelievably ear-attating (get it? I always wanted to write that). Editing is not done to the vocals, it almost sounds like he did them all in one take. Sketchy much? There seemed to be no thought into how the vocals and chiptune beats and synths should mash together. He made beats and he screamed over them. Done, check. If only that instantly made the perfect album. It doesn’t though, because his excessively raw vocals do not match the electronic sound of beep boops in the slightest. There is a way to make it sound good, and he doesn’t. Thank you modern Soundcloud artists for running after this guy tripped and broke his keyboard.
George Orwell’s Collection of Hidden Cameras may have the worst recorded harsh vocals ever made — that middle section is atrocious. Killer Oh is just computers vomiting. There are enough terrible moments in this album to justify a 1.5, no matter the light at the end of the horrifying tunnel. This is a check-out for laughs only, no take-backs, and no further listens. Nonetheless, I hope someone listens to this to share my suffering.
