Review Summary: Man 1: "B3sT!1 4lbuM EV4HRRRRRR!!!1!!!1!!!!!!!1!1111!!! GUY$$$$. :D"
Man 2: ....So that's why WiL Francis is able to go solo, because of America's ignorance. Okay, I see the way things are *proceeds to shoot self*
Man 1: want MY gl0cK?!!1
...
It is extremely courageous for a musical figure who garners almost unanimous negativity towards himself to branch out from what he's doing (what his apparent forte is; if you can call Aiden a forte of anything but repugnance, I salute you as a true Scavenger of the Damned.) It is extremely ballsy to name one's solo project “William Control”, for it states, and almost promises, that WiL Francis (as the preferred typeset is) does indeed have control over his controversy after all. And even more courageous, WiL names his debut effort “Hate Culture.”
Now, there has always been a hatred towards the latest scene-bands that emerge from the murky depths of the pond... I mean myspace. Let me cite: Bring Me The Horizon; Attack Attack!; Breathe Carolina; and From First To Last. These bands follow a formula of combining melody with intensity (a.k.a. a copious amount of breakdowns) and combining girls' jeans with more Aquanet-brand hairspray than Vixen used back in their glory days to calculate boring, cliché, “dark and brooding”, and all around irritating music. This music accomplishes nothing new nor exciting, nor is it likable to anyone but those fourteen-year-old girls going to the latest Underoath show at the local VFW. And frankly, they deserve all of the flack they get. But it is a reviewer's duty to be objective towards an album, and not let bias interfere with the possible product of the review (Pitchfork, I direct this sentence towards you.) And because the band WiL was attempting to break away from by conceiving this solo project was amongst the cash crop of the aforementioned scene, it was extremely difficult to do so.
I heard this thinking that, "Wow, perhaps WiL will mature to an extent and begin to touch on real issues in a less hilarious, less cliché, less irritating way, and in the process, become more genuine, more of a figure in music, and thus more likable." However, nothing has changed here except for the fact that, now, he uses synthesizers and programmed beats to his music. And not only are these annoying, but they are repetitive and jocular. Imagine if 3 Oh! 3 lost all inspiration and motivation to create “music.”
There are more annoying pitch bends and vibrations via two hundred dollar synthesizer than you, or anyone else for that matter, can count, namely on “Hate Culture” and “Strangers.” Both of these tracks are extremely similar/ They bring forth the question, “Hm... where have I heard this before?” and then you realize that you just did, not even twenty seconds ago.
There are occasional guitar leads that are executed throughout that sound cheaply produced and thus are reminiscent of keyboard filters on several tracks, primarily the runner-up for 'the worst song on the album award', “Tranquilize.” Unfortunately, every other song is equal to this one except for “London Town.” Why is that? Well, for starters, no song as bland as this should exceed two minutes, let alone nine; and no song this cliché should ever be written. This song has a contrived ending, and an obviously Aiden-inspired beginning consisting of violin, and some less-than-interesting acoustic guitar. Whether WiL wants us to know that every aspect of this album has been done before innumerable times, and done better by far innumerable times, we are aware. And because, unlike WiL, I don't wish to hit the nail of repetition on the head repeatedly, I shall keep things simple from here on out, and finish in a much more dignified manner than this album did.
The lyrics are the exact same, the vocals are the exact same, the cliches are still there, and instead of branching out, WiL seems to be improving only in the art of expanding the genre of electro-pop in terms of “how cliché and annoying can we get this?” His solo project does not improve his sense of musical ability, conception, intelligence, originality, or credulousness in any way, shape, or form. In fact, it is an insult to the musical world to purge out something this fatal in terms of aural assault (because let's face it, I use that diaphanous phrase oftentimes don't I? Speaking of diaphanous...) and peg it as a solo project. Am I confused? Do I simply not understand how large of an evolution occurred when WiL wrote the lyrics: “My ***ing hell, down down down down,” from the days of: “Lying face down in the gutter now so damn proud... it's my fault?” Nor do I realize how one spoken word part from Aiden's discography is more “unique” or any more of a heartbreaking composition of imaginative vision than one from “Hate Culture.” Now I'm starting to wonder if WiL himself hates culture altogether. That sure would make sense.
But maybe I'm too jaded to understand? Maybe I'm too full of “nay-nay” (I always did despise Max Bemis)? Or maybe I am just a part of this alleged “Hate Culture” which WiL is brimming with “nay nay” and contempt for. But you know what? I'm sure as hell not the only one, and I sure as hell never will be, for as long as there is righteousness in the world, there will always be “Hate Culture” to duck face... I mean hate.
FINAL RATING: Numbers cannot truly express my spite for this album. This can only be described as twice as bad as Twilight.
