Brokencyde is a poor man's I Set My Friends on Fire. You know, that band of skinny dudes who do nü-screamo vocals over crunk beats? Brokencyde is like that, but somehow worse.
I could probably end this review right here, but as this seems to be what the kids are listening to these days, here's what you need to know if you encounter a Brokencyde fan in your local Hot Topic:
There are four guys in the band (or, as they refer to themselves on MySpace, the "crew"), who share duties ranging from "vocals" to "gangsta raps" to "growls" to "hypeman." Over beats almost undoubtedly stolen from other crunk artists, these budding young musicians either alternately or simultaneously emulate every embarassing "extreme" vocal trend of the past five years. If you can get past the wall of abrasive noise, you'll appreciate such subtle and nuanced lyrics as this gem, from their song "Schitzo":
1, 2, we're coming for youThe five tracks on their BC 13 EP offer little in terms of variety. They all feature repetitive, disjointed lyrics that aim for shock value with misogynistic and violent themes. There is no sense of buildup or tension, the music tries to be as heavy as it can at all times, and fails in almost every regard imaginable. While it may be useful to keep one Brokencye song on your playlist for the next time you hold a house party and need to clear the room of people who overstay their welcome, there are no other redeeming qualities to be found here. This is the epitome of flavor-of-the-week, disposable bullshit.
3, 4, lock your door
5, 6, suck on my dick"