Leave it to me.
Before I trudge through the remainder of this review, let me begin by quelching a few misconceptions that may arise. First, I really tried to like it - in fact, I truthfully desired to like it. But I must be honest - I have sat through Alternative 4 countless times, hoping to be hypnotized by the supposed magic that it possesses. It alluded me. "Perhaps," I then said to myself, "I am peppering my approach to the album with my prejudices." So I then undertook some genuine and heartfelt attempts to open myself to it from a greater variety of angles, positing that perhaps I was exhibiting a degree of narrowmindedness, expecting something radically different. My musical tastes, however, spill into arenas far beyond metal. To make a long story short, this isn't about shattered expectations or a violation of aural preferences. What it is about, unfortunately, is what I can only call one of the most overrated releases that I have experienced in some time.
This is not to say that the album is a complete stinking pile of fly infested shit. A few decent songs, such as "Fragile Dreams" and "Empty," save the CD from the compost pile, but that is about it. Quite frankly, Alternative 4 is thin. Thin. In every aspect. Musically, the band is unsuccessful in conveying any tumultuous emotions other than simplistic boredom, regardless of the attempted usage of dynamics by the band's instrumentalists. In the band's defense, however, it is imperative to mention that they have little with which to work in vocalist Vinny Cavanagh, whose pathetic attempts at emotional catharsis are about as convincing as the kind of dribble scribbled by a broken hearted teenager whose first girlfriend has abandoned him: "Life has betrayed me once again." How sad. "I hide behind my raven smile." Hmmm. A raven smile. Very enigmatic.
What is all the more annoying than the pubescent ramblings lyrically, however, is the actual delivery of the material. It is whiny. Weak. Unconvincing in its attempts to convey emotional vulnerability. And while I certainly have no qualms against the British, Cavanagh's accent, at the fore of the musical serenade, sounds like the lead in a high school musical. And I don't enjoy musicals, not even of the Broadway variety.
Yet I am only one dissenting voice among a multitude of yay sayers, which is fine by me, although I can assure you, dear readers, that swimming upstream is in no way, shape or form my motivation for this less than stellar review. I just don't get it. But I suppose I will say this: if ever an album was created to be consumed by metalheads who are closeted fans of musicals, then this is it.
