If you like rap-rock, look away now.
Like a toddler proudly showing off a soiled nappy, rap-rock scallywags Hollywood Undead deliver everything on their fifth album with unwitting zeal. Welcome to a world where bluster and conviction are confused routinely, teen-pop sensibilities clash horribly with an enervating, boorish obsession with firearms, and the LA crew’s (presumably numerous) detractors are tetchily invited to “chomp a dick”. Overall, V makes Limp Bizkit sound like Steely Dan.
A couple of enjoyably belligerent riffs aside, tracks like Renegade and Cashed Out offer an almost comically dim-witted mega-barf of cutting-edge, fauxalternative pop-rap trope-mulch, aimed squarely at the obliterated attention spans of the Snapchat ‘n’ fidget-spinner generation and about as edgy as a boiled egg. When Cypress Hill/Prophets Of Rage legend B-Real turns up on Black Cadillac, he injects a welcome dose of authority but sounds sincerely baffled by his own involvement.