Sinergy
Suicide By My Side

THE REVIEW

For God's sake, stop this man, he must be unwell, don't allow him to make more music because there are two possibilities, Alexi Lahio either hit his head, so we forgive him, or all of a sudden, he has become a leech always ready to try to ask for more money; otherwise, I don't know why he gave life to Sinergy, which, let's face it without any beating around the bush or unnecessary preamble, they are pathetic.

Sinergy, as can be read on the internet, is nothing more than a "supergroup" which includes, besides our infamous Alexi, Kimberly Goss, Roope Latvala, Lauri Porra, and Janne Parviainen, who indulge us with hyper melodic and sugary power metal/pop to the point of nausea.

Beyond the total lack of originality in the melodies, what doesn't work is the ongoing plagiarism of Nightwish, Stratovarius, Sonata Arctica, and all those bands that have endeavored, curse them, in spreading a tired style that has said everything, or almost everything, there was to be said. The ingredients are therefore always the same: super fast guitar solos, a double bass drum akin to the noise of a helicopter in flight, a voice in more than one instance as high as it is flat, bass relegated to a minor role, making it barely audible.

"Suicide By My Side," this the title of the 2002 album, starts with none other than a suave hack introducing us to "I Spit On Your Grave," where all the influences I mentioned earlier immediately resurface, particularly with a reference to Nightwish, from whom they decided to copy "Wishmaster," a famous track from the titular 2000 album.

This is followed by heavier tracks like "The Sin Trade" or "Violated," both featuring good riffing and atmospheres unusually heavy for power songs, with an excellent delivery, particularly in the first track by the singer, who proves aggressive and never trying to mimic her peers. We then reach the fabulous "Me, Myself, My Enemy," one of those things that makes you ask "why?", yes because really here one has to wonder if the band really spent time composing such a musical abomination, something so dreadful that one hopes it ends as soon as possible.

The rest of the platter follows the trail of triviality heard so far, with results mostly questionable, even if slightly better than "Me, Myself…", although remaining at decidedly poor levels, if it weren't for the technical performance of the group and for the production, worthy of Spears, which slightly lifts the fortunes of an album that calling modest is an understatement.

Rejected without any hesitation, hoping that the child of Bodom stops mocking us in such an undignified manner.