Poppified timeshare inhabited by nu-metal hookage and Metallica buzzsaw grind. Vocals teeter between clean-lunged Sevendust and forlorn kraut Nosferatu spooking akin to the Metropolis family of products, and although there are a few breakbeat-sizzle bytes, the keyboards are Don Airey bombast showers right out of Bark at the Moon, a sure way to inspire indignant whines from the black metal tribesmen who comprised their competition prior to this successful attempt to grow up a tad. Order at Tower Records
