It’s not that bad. I mean, for me, a kid who came of age in the 90s and later waited tables to this sort of thing in the oughties, Papa Roach’s ninth studio album, Crooked Teeth, is not that bad. See, I kind of assumed that every song would be some sort of over-extended musical journey, sultry with semi-maudlin aggressiveness … Just look at that cover art. But honestly, there’s a clarity, a maturity (dare I say restraint?) to the musicality and lyrics of many of the tracks that I found surprising/inspiring in a sort of post-rap core, we’re not really famous anymore, kind of way. The band even manages to come off as actually, possibly vulnerable with that lyric, “I think I might need help.” That’s a long way from the “Infest!! (die like the rest)” vibe I’m used to. Congrats are in order.
Suggested Use: Replacing some flooring? These aggressive (though less than semi-maudlin-aggressive) guitar licks and grungy vocals seem ripe for some brute-strength-utility-knife-wielding, carpet-kicking, throw-that pipe-on-your-shoulder-and-toss-it-in-the-dumpster sort of expression. And once the carpet’s up (or linoleum or heaven forbid, purple paint on a turn-of-the-century wood floor) and you’ve figured out I didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned the pipe, you can celebrate with a mosh pit or something, though take it easy. None of us are getting any younger here.