This was about a tedious of a listen as a droning sludge album for a person who despises Clutch. Phil's voice in 2016 is about as relevant as a Hillary supporter after election day, and his rambling and lyrical approach doesn't seem to have evolved at all since we last heard him on record. The production is also super disabled, with cymbals sounding like what my band and I recorded in our living room in 2005. There was one moment where I found myself bopping my head, but it was only for a riff, and then I started sweating profusely as I made every effort to make it through the album.
It's really surprising to even see the band release an album. With the content being so muddied and boring, it's hard to imagine what the band's expectations were when they sat down together and wrote these gems. We're left wondering if the rest of the guys think they've struck oil with having "the singer from Pantera" in the band, because that they certainly do, but the question remains, does anybody even care? I don't think anyone besides Crowbar really does, and I can't imagine that folks down in The Big Easy are interested in this slop. Stay away and wait for next friday.
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