Do you like heartbreak? How about razorblades and cyanide? Feeling bad for yourself? Rehash riffs? Cliché-stuffed lyrics? If you answered yes to any of those questions, then Welsh not-really metallers Bullet for My Valentine may have just put out your new favorite album. I’m not really sure why they elected to name the album Fever, but for my part at least it seems like it’s because it has the potential to make even the hardiest listener sick or at least discomforted. I actually had to stop half way through this album for a tea, snack, and ibuprofen break.

Now, to be fair, I started listening to this album with low expectations from the onset. I’ve never liked BMFV; to me they have always seemed like just another band with decent riffs and a barely passable singer. Even with songs that I somewhat liked such as Scream Aim Fire and Hand of Blood, I never really saw what all the fuss was about over this band. Nonetheless, I tried my damndest to listen to this new album with open ears and an open mind. In the end, either I failed miserably, or Bullet for My Valentine did. I’m definitely leaning towards the latter, but I suppose that is for you to decide.

Since I’ll likely have a lot of negative things to say about Fever, let me start with the few positives. While guitarists Matthew Tuck and Michael Paget haven’t come up with any particularly spectacular riffs, the music is nonetheless solid and at times memorable, and there are some impressive solos and twin guitar leads. Bassist Jason James and drummer Michael Thomas provide a solid backbone for the guitars and vocals, and there are certainly some moments of heavy metal glory to be found on Fever.

Now, we come to the core of the matter; the reasons that Fever is ultimately a piece of shit that cements my opinion of Bullet for My Valentine as a bunch of trendy fucks who have the audacity to name bands like Iron Maiden and Metallica as primary influences. First and foremost, the lyrics are among the worst I have ever heard, in metal or otherwise. Allow me to elaborate: in the title track, Tuck sings something to the effect of, “You smell so fucking good, it makes me loose control.” Seriously? Or how about a lyric from A Place Where You Belong: “So kill me now and let the good times roll.” Apparently, lyricist Matt Tuck was shooting for lyrics that come somewhere between Type O Negative and Poison. Cliché follows cliché, and by the end of the album, BMFV has pretty much covered the book of cheesy heartbreak lyrics.

The atrocious lyrics aren’t helped by the fact that Matt Tuck sounds completely disingenuous throughout the album. Technically, his voice is not awful, but his delivery and tone take away all the momentum that some of the better riffs of the album provide. Quite honestly, he sounds plain bitchy most of the time; BMFV always seemed to me to be treading the dangerous line between metalcore and emo, and with much of what metallic rage the previous albums had now gone, this album could be justifiably counted amongst the latter, at least in some respects. Without the distorted guitars and occasional harsh vocals, songs like Fever and Bittersweet Memories are not actually that far removed from pop-punk bands like Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco.

Admittedly, it was somewhat difficult for me to listen to this album objectively. But I am a firm believer that if this album had been even remotely good, it would have eventually shaken me out of my stubbornness and I would have found some enjoyment in it. But as the album wore on, it got harder and harder to listen to. There were some moments that, at least to me, were such an utter embarrassment that even fans of the band would have found laughable. At any rate, I refuse to yield my assertion that Bullet for My Valentine is at best a mediocre band, and at worst, such as on much of Fever, a joke. It is unfortunate that metalcore, which was an original and exciting new genre when the dawn of bands like Killswitch Engage came about at the turn of the century, has become as irrelevant and boring as it is now. To me, Bullet for My Valentine is the absolute worst of the bunch, and the fact that they are one of the most widely recognized “metal” bands is a sad representation of metal as a whole. Unless BMFV’s sound touches you in some way that I can not possibly understand, or you are just too ignorant of metal to see past their contrived riffs and bullshit lyrics, steer well clear of this album.