Cartel
Chroma
Epic
Two out of five stars
Scholars recently dug up the remains of a famous castrato to study the effects of prepubescent castration on singers.
The findings? Though this barbaric practice of castrating young boys to preserve their unbroken voices was thought to have stopped hundreds of years ago, the emergence of Cartel has called this assumption into question.
Cartel’s grating, high-pitched vocals- combined with its glossy, generic, forgettable rock guitar riffs-somehow made me feel as though I’d just been castrated?even though I didn’t have testicles to begin with.
Actually, from what I understand getting kicked in the ‘nads to be like, listening to Cartel was shockingly similar.
Here’s how it happened: I was walking down the street when I hit play on my iPod. As soon as Chroma started playing, I staggered. Then my eyes started to water. Suddenly, it felt like my stomach was in my throat and I thought I was going to vomit everywhere?for sure.
Fortunately, most of you will probably never be exposed to this heinous crap festival of a band unless you have younger siblings. Chroma’s pseudo-punk-emo style sounds like the kind of thing you’d find in your 13-year-old sister’s collection.
If you do have a younger sister who owns this album, for the love of all things good and holy, break it in half and burn the pieces. With acid. After she stops crying, take her to get a Slurpee and on the way to 7-Eleven explain the importance of listening to quality rock music. She’ll thank you later. Then promise her you’ll let her try pot soon.
Just kidding,
When I was 13, my older brother cut the eyes out of all my Kurt Cobain posters after I put the garden hose through his window and soaked his mattress. I was pretty pissed about the posters at the time, but now I’m grateful. It helped me get over my Nirvana obsession and move on to new music.
So, thanks Pice. Sorry ’bout the mattress.
