I Set My Friends On Fire

You Can’t Spell Slaughter Without Laughter

[0.5/5]

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beerholder”? “Ravenous, Ravenous Rhinos”? “Reese’s Pieces, I Don’t Know Who John Cleese Is”? As if the “joke” song titles weren’t forehead-slappingly bad enough, this two-man band from Miami vomit up a poorly digested amalgam of every current annoying trend in music: Casio synth lines, tuneless screamo howling, a drum machine, a drummer who sounds like a machine, super-affected death growls, opening the album with a fucking skit… Oh, and do you even need to be told about their “hilarious” cover of Soulja Boy’s “Crank That”? You probably saw that one coming. Looking past the astounding amount of clichés, You Can’t Spell Slaughter Without Laughter truly fails because it has exactly zero memorable moments. Don’t set your friends on fire; reduce this album to ashes instead. (EPITAPH) Phil Freeman