There's a growing problem in hard rock that's been evident for some time now; namely, there isn't much in the way of interesting or original sounds making it to a widespread audience.
Stutterfly's major-label debut, "And We Are Bled Of Color," is the perfect case study for this epidemic. The album is angry, introspective, injured and outspoken and from start to finish loud and driving, plus it has everything a good emo-punk album should - nothing to make it memorable.
The British Columbia-bred quintet signed with Maverick Records under the same management as fellow screamers The Used, and at its best Stutterfly almost convinces the audience they belong in the same league as the aforementioned popular group.
"And We Are Bled Of Color" certainly doesn't lack in slick production values, proving how far a pile of record-label cash can go in making a band sound professional or, in this case, derivative.
The album has all the standard criteria: the seemingly arbitrarily placed emo-punk screams, sweeping strings and an abundance of chunky, palm-muted power chords and high-pitched harmonic guitar riffs. But for most of the album, the layers get so muddled that the overall effect is a droning, dull sound.
The record's high points are when the mire clears momentarily, like when a fierce punk-guitar solo cuts in halfway through "Where Angels Fell."
Stutterfly falls victim to the fate of many mediocre rock acts; when they have the opportunity to pick a song up and take it in an interesting direction, they instead revert to the standard formula. "Life's Disease" is the first and only departure from that formula. And a chorus melody that strangely almost reminds listeners of Simon & Garfunkel is the first point the music grabs the listener's attention (although the lyrics can still make the audience wince).
Lead singer Chris Stickney has the emo vocabulary memorized, shamelessly spouting every cliché he can muster from "bruised and bloody" to "heartsick forlorn" to "I feel so numb." He throws all the right words together, seemingly willfully plagiarizing from the punk-rock textbook and still has a hard time saying anything intelligible.
Several of Stickney's songs take a conservative stance on social issues, such as abortion and genetic research, but the lyrics are so fractured and noncommittal it's hard to say what he was shooting for or how badly he missed the mark.
If Stutterfly is for real, it's going to need all the help of the God, who is so enthusiastically thanked in the album's liner notes. But if the album is no more than an elaborate joke contrived by someone hoping to poke fun at the clichés of modern rock, it has been so masterfully done that hard-rock fans will lose interest halfway through.
