Bullet For My Valentine
Venom

Bullet for My Valentine is a friendly group. Capable of producing a promising debut album (The Poison), followed by a decent but lesser second act (Scream Aim Fire), and then releasing two more mundane albums, each worse than the last (Fever and Temper Temper). They might seem like the classic sellout group, constructed at a desk to attract hordes of fringe-haired teens and rake in easy cash.

They started with a metalcore heavily influenced by emo (adolescent but effective) and then almost completely abandoned those influences, embarking on a gradual simplification of the sound that has progressively been lightened, eventually becoming an amorphous mix of rock, metal, pop, punk, and more. In short, in their pitiful penultimate album (Temper Temper, so easy that even your grandma might like it) it is evident that Bullet's musical style had become utterly indefinable, neither fish nor fowl.

What is most surprising is the stupidity of the "commercial operation" that producers have carried out on the Welsh quartet: an anti-commercial commercialization. The band, initially presented as the European answer to Trivium and Avenged Sevenfold, was increasingly falling by the wayside. What sense does it make to force a lightening of the sound (with a consequent loss of compositional quality) if it only takes a bit of growl, some shredding here and there, and a driven double bass to satisfy metal fanboys worldwide?

And naturally, what is the best recipe to climb out of the abyss and save yourself at a corner kick? A "sharp return to the rage of origin," as Matt Tuck (frontman) defined the album before its release. Considering that the pseudo-evolution of the sound has proven to be a complete failure, there is nothing better than resurrecting the old sound and serving the audience the same soup from 10 years ago. The result is this Venom: how is it? Pleasant.

Apparently, the album seems to bring the band back to its beginnings, although listening closely, one realizes that only greater aggression from those times has returned. The emo influences are absent, and the song structures are actually the same as those of the penultimate album. It's as if the Welsh quartet took the predecessor's album, immersed it in a steel flood, and out came this Venom. The growls are back (never too many), the adrenaline-pumping rhythms, the hammering double bass, everything is packaged ad hoc to win back old-time fans. But it is nevertheless a different band from the one of 10 years ago (there's a lack of compositional streak). The album is perhaps closer to Scream Aim Fire, especially in the thrash-influenced guitar riffs.

Despite the lack of personality (nothing new under the sun), the album is well-packaged, ranging between highs and lows: the fast-paced No Way Out, Army of Noise, and Broken are perhaps the most successful; If You Want a Battle Here's a War is the classic stadium-hit single that's victorious yet unconvincing, with an alternation of heaviness and melody that seems forcibly stitched together; the title track, echoing the now legendary hit Tears Don't Fall, is certainly the least inspired track (this is also the second self-plagiarism of the same song, the first already occurred with Tears Don't Fall - Part 2 from the previous album). The others are a series of fillers that aren't displeasing but aren't memorable either.

The feeling during listening is one of a constant déjà-vu, even though it's not so unpleasant to tread familiar ground. The songs are so catchy and predictable that they easily stick in your head. But still, amidst a recycling of ideas, when comparing the album to the previous two mishmashes, one can't help but be satisfied, vastly outshining the mediocrity of the last releases. It is perhaps the band's second-best album after the debut The Poison, on par with Scream Aim Fire.

Long-time fans will be thrilled to see their favorites pounding away as before. Passing metalheads can use it as an ear warm-up before listening to more serious stuff. An album that reaches sufficiency.