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Rating:
Vendetta Red are from Seattle, where they inherited the punk spirit and later adapted it to a melodic and hard emo rock, tending towards a certain epicness.
This third album of theirs is quite homogeneous, particularly characterized by the voice of Zach Davidson, who jumps from harmonious to unbalanced degeneration, supported by guitar arpeggios that turn into slaps, by a drum that knocks then bursts in, and by a clean and intriguing bass. Songs like "There Only Is" stand out, which cradles you on clouds only to then hurl you into a free fall, gliding and being overwhelmed by the singer's crazed screams, which aren't much different from the schizoid ones of the Blood Brothers; this is the thread running through the entire album. "Opiate Summer", without committing heresies, recalls the style of Blink 182; peaceful arpeggios and a brief shack chorus explode in "Shatterday", and again it's screams that tear the sky. There is also space for ballads that do not, however, give up the punk rock stamp; the sound is fluid, well-defined, even when a wall is created before which we feel small but very involved. "Lipstick" has a broken, intriguing rhythm: it builds up and frenetically fragments; here the sounds can remind one of those of Muse's "Muscle Museum", especially the ragged finale preceded by an almost angelic choir.
"P.S. I Love The Black" is sensational, a worthy finale full of pathos. Certainly, having seen Vendetta Red open for the Korn concert gave me a significant incentive to appreciate them: Zach looked like Robert Plant: bare chest, bell-bottom pants, golden curls, and not very propitious falsettos, but letting oneself be carried away by the epicness of this closing song is incredible. The sort of Corey Taylor rap at the end is frantic; the guitar slashes veins, pulsating drums and bass replace the heartbeat, and the screams are strokes that shatter your psyche.
If at the end of listening you find your house upside down, that's your own damn problem.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
05 Shatterday (02:39)
Our days are numbered 666
And I'll begin the countdown by calling off the circus
Somewhere in these cryptic scriptures
I'll find myself drifting in a sky full of
Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These mescaline memories are morose
Your kerosene company's comatose
Our days are numbered 321
When you bit the bullet
I held the smoking gun
Somewhere in these violent volumes
I'll find myself drifting in a sky full of
Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These masculine memories are morose
Your kerosene company's comatose
And I would stick up half of my cold eye
To set you on your head
If I were you then I would memorize this loose lipped lullaby instead of waiting
Carving out your own
Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
Follow we went around
Scars they cut into you
Blisters rose colored hue
Mayday we're going down
These mescaline memories are morose
Your kerosene company's comatose
09 Lipstick Tourniquets (04:12)
Something soulless told you it hates you
They wear the sheepskins, but you are the monster
Breathing men would kill
Lucy don't go hold me haunt me
tinctures taunt you, cause you are the monster
breathing men would kill
blame me for this as you sit in your counting room
coughing up blood just to spit in my mouth
soon you'll be gone and the rain will was you away
tucked in and gagged now say your prayers
Lipstick tourniquets work when the poison
begins to take hold. And for what reward?
So the simple can suck on the rinds.
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