Geez.

You know at 35 years old, I’ve been around the block a few times, kids. I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I can confidently say I know my shit about two forms of entertainment on a level that I’ll put alongside just about any other mid-card critic on the planet, and those two things are music, and pro wrestling.

No. This isn’t an April Fool’s Joke. It’s just in time for Wrestlemania 22!!

Now anyone who has followed the major pro wrestling product over the past, say, 5 years or so, knows the caliber of the writing produced by creative has been nothing short of atrocious on a rather consistent level. A certain huge company has lost over 1/3rd of it’s diehard viewership. I’ve been watching rasslin’ since The Wild Samoans were the World Tag Team Champions, and Bob Backlund was still reigning as World Champ. Don’t fuck with me there, okay?

So, what The Smackdown have done, is combined a whopping 20:13 (about the length of an exceptional Chris Benoit/Shawn Michaels match) of some of the most annoying screamo I’ve ever heard in my life, with a wrestling “angle”, if you will. You see the song titles, and I’ve just told you what genre they are. See where this is going? I don’t even think Ted DiBiase could bail these guys out of this mess. It’s like saying, “you know what? I bet that pile of crap over there would look and smell a lot better with a marigold stuck in the middle of it!”

Have you ever smelled a fucking marigold? The Undertaker’s ripened post-match armpit would probably be comparable. I haven’t smelled ‘Taker, but marigolds, yes. Awful. If I didn’t like wrestling so much, I wouldn’t have rated this so high.

Basically, you’ve got a singer who sounds like he’s barely 13 years old screaming as forcefully as he possibly can without bursting a blood vessel, atop a constant barrage of undigested, third-rate Slayer and Agnostic Front/Minor Threat riffs, with occasional fluttering Dillinger Escape Plan twinkle-toe fits that also sound like 13 year olds playing them. I do have to give some props to the drummer, however, he’s the best musical part of the band, and that’s only because he can keep a moderately steady beat, and throw in a few sweet fills here and there. Too bad the production sounds like shit. As much as I’d like to go on, that pretty much sums up the music on ‘Someone Has To Kill The Headwriter”. The songs end right around the time you say “I’ve heard enough of this tune”, which leads right into the next bit of entirely tedious, ear-splitting hardcore, and so on, and so on.

Do I really need to belabor the point? In other words, this is about as necessary as another Triple H title reign.

I feel like I’ve already dedicated too much time to this review. There’s not one compelling riff, one memorable vocal, or a single moment of anything worth mentioning from a songwriting standpoint in any way, other than being very loud. Since I’m not particularly choosy with the subjects of my reviews, everything and anything is reviewed without question, and likewise, if you can’t handle the smack getting laid down here, get out of the ring. These guys better get used to tapping out once Goodfellow drops this wet jock on April 11th, because this is one of the worst conceptualized/executed CD’s I’ve heard in months. This will never touch my player again.

See you next time in the squared circle…

This entry was posted by Dekompoze on Sunday, 2nd April, 2006 at 23:46 and is filed under Reviews, The Smackdown. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response below. You may view a   printable version of this page. You may download this page in   PDF format.