Texas Is On Fire
Shine. Set. Repeat.
3.2
Texas Is On Fire are unforgivably stale. So much so, that I'm contemplating just ending this review right now with, "do not buy or go near this." To me, listening to something this generic is like watching the NASA channel on television. I sit there, stare at it, then instantly realize I'm never going to see a flying saucer so I may as well just change the damn channel. Hearing the first ten seconds of this is like staring at a fucking satellite. No, not even that, as looking at a satellite for the first ten seconds is actually sort of cool. It's more like watching someone try on shoes.
After painting that picture, I'm sure everyone's a tad curious as to what makes it so damn terrible. Flat and monotonous barking, completely miserable and pathetic growls, the same fucking drumbeat with the shit-stained paper plate sound, the fact that their guitarists believe apparently that there's no way to play a riff unless you play it with hammer-ons, the confusing ethos that this riff must be played thirty times before the transition to the next riff which must be played thirty times, the fact that everyone's fucking sick of metalcore - especially characterless Myspace crap, and the fact that they're so boring that writing a sixty word sentence without proper punctuation is more entertaining. I assure you, the 25 minutes that sum-up Texas Is On Fire's first release might possibly be the most irritating 25 minutes of your life. I'd rather sit in a fucking cardboard box with a paddleball for two weeks than wade through this fecal ocean of predictability. And who would've thought that it would come from girl-pants, uneven haircuts, intentionally shitty dye-jobs, castro hats, camo shorts, straight-edge hoodies, and what appears to be "a totally insane live show"?
I have no fucking idea why this album was written, and if the members of this band are any older than 18, they should probably have their digits removed for the sake of other generic metalcore garbage. This should've stayed local, as if I had heard these guys on a local level opening for someone, maybe I'd have some sort of commendable words to share. Right now, though, I'm too busy brooding over how pissed off I am that someone seriously believes that this needs a review. So here it is, here's your review. You asked for it. To summarize things: get some originality, get a new vocalist, get a better producer next time, and don't let your label spend a dime on banner advertisements until you're sure what you've created should really necessitates drawing extra attention to yourselves.
Thanks for endorsing and encouraging bullshit like this, Crash Music. Maybe they can go on tour with scene-stalwarts, Single Bullet Theory, another band you inexplicably signed whose sheer lack of originality made me throw myself down the stairs.
