Review Summary: Committing to treason.
Kids In The Way, despite bold proclamations of simply not being able to be ignored, have never really done anything memorable. You could probably count on one hand the amount of truly memorable tracks from the group’s first two efforts, though if you didn’t enjoy their take on emo-tinged alternative rock with an occasional sonic edge in the vein of The Used or older Paramore at least mildly, this band would sound like a cancer to you. While I went into
Apparitions of Melody, the band’s second effort, fairly optimistic due to their promises of a heavier and more varied beast, I was ultimately left disappointed. But I was determined to finish their discography, especially with it being such a short one.
“Your Demon” is probably what would happen if
Getting Away With Murder-era Papa Roach and
Lies For The Liars-era The Used had a very immature son, but not exactly a bastard son. Yes, David sounds the most generic his entire career, there’s plenty of “woahs” in the chorus, and there’s virtually nothing for drums and bass. However, the main riff (you guessed it, Drop D tuned) is catchy, heavy, and overall just driving. And it’s not like David sounds bad, and the chorus is fairly catchy with some semi-clever lyrics. Ok, this gets a pass. And, eight songs later, so does “Fiction”, bringing back some of the delicious lyrical imagery from a track like “Last Day of 1888” and melding it with the glossier approach used on
Love Hate Masquerade. There’s also a catchy little lead guitar fill, some awesome screaming, and the only memorable drum performance all album.
And that’s it. Seriously, the other 92 percent of the album just drones on in a monotonous wash. There’s so much filler it hurts and, despite the fact I detest this term, the album screams “sellout”. It’s lazy and it shows in the reused riffs, absolute lack of vocal evolution, and ultimately a The Used knockoff without that band’s brand of self-aware, self-deprecating humor, Paramore with a male lead vocalist, or just an edgier All-American Rejects. Even the album art looks cheap, especially in comparison with the ambiguous feel of the previous record. I just have no other words to use here: they didn’t try.
Lyrically, “Fiction” is the only track to truly speak of. It does contain the clever line “a dusty record spins/an old song plays again/ the needle dragging across its skin/ ink spills through my pen/ the paper soaks it in/ the music bringing tremors to my hands”. Something about this was memorable and made the song itself stick with me, but even if you aren’t a huge fan of this line, the emotion with which it (and this song in general) is delivered is enough to push you through it.
There’s nothing else to say. This band was never very good in the first place but at least the first two albums had some type of heart. This sounds burned-out. Washed-up. Destined to leave fearful tremors resounding through any self-respecting music listener at the mere mention of its name.
