Review Summary: I'm sick of this monster monster.
It’s amazing how much better you can appear by the company you keep. Take Aaron Gillespie, for example. The strawberry-blonde drummer is arguably the most important factor in Floridian metalcore giants Underoath – of which he is the sole remaining original member. His driving rhythms aside, he also provides the perfect contrast to head throat Spencer Chamberlain – while he howls professions of faith and a world in crisis, Gillespie’s clean vocals provide the hooks that help the band keep some kind of grasp on accessibility, in addition to genuinely sounding excellent.
Take the band away from him, however, and poor little Aaron is a deer in headlights.
Southern Weather, Gillespie’s debut under the alias The Almost, had a few sweet moments but completely failed to match his work on Underoath’s most recent record at the time,
Define the Great Line. A couple of years on, he’s tried again with
Monster Monster. God knows why, however – the album is polished through its surface and shows even less glimpses of his talent than previously.
It only takes a couple of minutes to realise that Gillespie is going for his poppiest sound yet. After repeating the chorus of the title track that opens the record for the umpteenth time, he plays a big drum roll and shouts “EVERYBODY!” at the top of his lungs. Lo and behold, what happens next? Gang vocals! Rough translation: “Gee, isn’t this chorus great? Maybe if I shout “everybody!” that means everyone will sing along with it when we play it live!”. Please, buddy; you’re essentially redefining what it means to be contrived.
This sickly-sweet style of guitar pop comes back around for most of the record, and it really does leave listeners in a state of confusion as to why Aaron would be so persistent in trying to make something stick when it’s obviously not doing wonders for him. “No I Don’t” is cutesy and irritating, suffocating under its own schmaltz. “Summer Summer” (what’s with all the double double title titles?) starts off promisingly, before the terrible lyrics (“Summer goes/Makes you feel like life is real”) and a synthesized string section take control – it ends up sounding like Avril Lavigne covering a Taking Back Sunday ballad.
It doesn’t get much worse than “Hand Grenade”, however. Folksy guitar, embarrassingly out-of-place accordion and pure cheese slide guitar guide to the forefront a drawling Gillespie weening out possibly the worst lyrics he has ever put his name to. “If you’re an ocean/Then I wanna jump right in”, he sings, before one-upping Teddy Geiger’s “I could fall asleep in those eyes like a waterbed” with the cringe-inducing “If you’re a hand grenade/Then I’ll pull the pin”. The fact it lies halfway through the record makes you feel like tearing parts of your body off with the chance a song equally bad or worse may come along (it doesn’t, but that momentary feeling isn’t pretty).
Of course, a talent the likes of Gillespie can’t get it all wrong. “Hands” is, ultimately, the best thing he has ever done under the Almost name. The chorus a glorious shout-along, the vocals sharp and hook-laden, the guitars a punchy, rhythmic beast…everything here works so magnificently well here it’s almost scary. “Books & Books”, also, packs a dynamic energy straight out of the gates and some of the strongest vocals on the album. Closing the album, “Monster” also provides an alt-country charm, presenting itself as a fragile, emotionally driven number that proves that Aaron is capable of great things. What an absolute pity that these glimmers of hope are overridden by complete atrocities.
Concluding an analysis of
Monster Monster with a pun on the band name would be entertaining. However, it’s just too obvious – something the album itself knows about all too well. Instead of cementing Aaron Gillespie’s own talents, all the Almost has done thus far is prove how much he really needs Underoath.
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