KING 810

Mem­oirs of a Murderer Road­run­ner/ Warner

Blunt - - In Review - BREN­DAN CRABB

Le­gal wran­gles mean Road­run­ner’s fresh sign­ing have been in the news for the wrong rea­sons lately. What should be widely ac­knowl­edged in­stead is just how dire this de­but al­bum is. Michael Moore showed Flint, Michi­gan pos­sesses its short­com­ings. Although King 810’ s much- bal­ly­hooed street cred has been ques­tioned else­where, even if le­git­i­mate, the ghet­toin­spired themes can’t com­pen­sate for mind- numb­ingly di­rec­tion­less song- writ­ing. Their Slip­knot- lite groove/ nu metal is so low­est com­mon de­nom­i­na­tor it makes Five Fin­ger Death Punch seem like Mensa can­di­dates. A “fuck you” to crit­ics dur­ing “War Out­side” is laugh­able; ex­tended spo­ken word po­etry/ faux- rap pas­sages te­dious. When this hour- plus verg­ing on a fort­night is con­cluded, you’ll wish you’d avoided such an abom­i­na­tion.

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