THY ART IS MURDER with Emmure, Fit For An Autopsy & Justice for the Damned 170 …
There was a time when the gimmicks, costumes, and anthemic narrative of a Black Veil Brides album was something to admire. Armies of angsty youths flocked to their raspy sound, their electrifying dynamic and unabashed emo-goth aesthetic–Vale, however, will not be one of those times.
Perhaps the novelty of such groups has well and truly worn off, perhaps BVB left it far too long between 2014’s self-titled release and Vale that their army of fans have made it through puberty safe and sane, rendering their interest irrelevant. Whatever the cause, Vale only shows Black Veil Brides have succumbed to creative rot and decay.
Black Veil Brides don’t seem to be able to grow as their fans do, to mature and advance as musicians. Instead, they prefer to rehash old ideas, energies as performers fading and ideas fast running dry.
Overall the only interesting thing going on musically are the frequent piano interludes, and they’re criminally brief. Gone are rhythm guitarist-cum-violinist Jeremy ‘Jinxx’ Ferguson’s haunting folk-metal lilts, gone is the surprise factor of Biersack’s vocal ability, gone is the appeal of such a group on the scene–unless, of course, you’re a 12-year old girl beginning her rock ‘n’ roll induction with no clue how to start.
And that’s the rub–Black Veil Brides don’t seem to be able to grow as their fans do, to mature and advance as musicians. Instead, they prefer to rehash old ideas, energies as performers fading and ideas fast running dry.
It’s one too many choral vocalizations, one too many forced guitar runs, and, dare it be said, one too many albums. Vale, Black Veil Brides. Vale.
STICK THIS NEXT TO: Empty beer cans, used coffee grounds, banana peels
STANDOUT TRACKS: None