http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=cliché

I wanted that to be the entire review, but there’s a minimum word tally, so thus, I will continue.

I don’t think I’ve ever disliked a band so much simply from reading a press sheet before. The three bands immediately compared to This Moment are Bleeding Through, Atreyu, and Throwdown. Joy. If we’re going on that basis, than Finding a Voice in the Dark are masters of imitation. They’ve honed their craft, and exemplified what it means to not have an identity of your own.

Just listening to this album, I can see the arms of 50 bro moshers purposely swinging their middle class suburban fists directly into somebody in the crowd who isn’t even looking. Yeah, life’s tough, so you better own that pit. Oh shit, here comes the breakdown! Spin-kick! They’ve got bad screaming, they’ve got bad singing, they’ve got breakdowns and power chords, it’s all here kids. “I lost my voice tonight, it burns in the darkness / My tears shatter back inside the blade / Chocking on words which bind us all here / Leave this dream, this dream called life, kiss of arrows in my heart." Oh shit, here comes that next brutal breakdown! And then some more awfully sung vocals, and some heavy double bass. I can really feel the pain and heartbreak in their music. It speaks to me. Oh wait up a second, I have to adjust my bandana. Sorry, I can’t type out reviews without looking hard.

There really is not a single good track on the entire album. It’s all just as predictable as you can imagine, but the song titles would have told you that. “Do Angels Have Wings?,” “Circle of Knives,” “Chasing Grey,” and “Breaking Glass Shackles.” I’m sure Bleeding Through is proud. You know, every time I start to feel bad about being this utterly mean in a review, I try to put myself in the mindset of the band who made the music. And on that basis, there’s no goddamn way in hell these guys want to do anything but cash in on a dying cow. Obviously it’s hard to be original when seemingly everything’s been done, but there’s no excuse for this pile of garbage.

If you even think about buying this album, even to be ironic, I will come to your house and give you the beating of a lifetime, Jay and Silent Bob Style. And since I trust none of you want 5’10” 165 lbs worth of Upstate New York fury on your doorsteps, I’ll assume nobody buys a copy of this.