Review Summary: Admit It... This is Shit.
Max Bemis is bipolar.
This album sounds like Max Bemis was in the highest high of mania that can possibly be achieved and then decided to go into the studio with his wife and kids for several days and write an album. The results... Speak for themselves...
This is quite possibly one of the worst pieces of *** albums I have ever heard in my life. If you took any of the REALLY bad Say Anything songs and blended them together with equal parts trap production and Brockhampton-esque pop balladry you would get something resembling this album. Except that would be infinitely better because we wouldn't be subjected to Max Bemis rapping but alas here we are...
I should have known this album was going to be COMPLETELY unlistenable when even the hipsters on this website wouldn't touch this with a ten-foot pole. Probably because outside of Say Anything, next to no one gives two remote flying ***s and a *** about Max Bemis. From him canceling shows to him (I am not joking when I say this) charging money for you to listen to him rant about various topics on stage. (20 dollars a person) Max Bemis has become one of the biggest jokes in the "emo" and "punk" scenes in a while.
So, what can I even really say about this album other than it was just... Horrible.
Max Bemis has his infant child do an extended monologue at the end of one of these songs and somehow that is one of the less irritating moments. If you want trap production, screaming, esoteric rants, and Sherri singing about family or some ***... Well, you got it here. If you want a good album that will make you remember why you loved Max and Say Anything in the first place. Look elsewhere because this ain't it.
