Lust and Loathing must be an existential title to The Unguided’s new album because it’s about as fuckable as Bill Cosby in spandex. Fortunately the similarities are that there’s potential between those loins. Potential what you may ponder? Potential energy!
Without delving too much into the technical side of Lust and Loathing, which is accomplished and well produced (except that cardboard guitar sound,) the overall feeling doesn’t convey the extremities that the title provides, instead settling for a mediocrity of feigned interest and a mild misdemeanor. The motivation behind the music isn’t very convincing.
The structure and format of modern heavy metal is maintained. It sounds good but not pertinent. The Unguided don’t take any liberties with the tools at their disposal, creating a match fare that’s about as recognizable as Richard Branson in a pickle jar. While their musical acumen is tight the implementation of popular styles is dated.
There’s a level of staging on Lust and Loathing where the vocals leave the music with an apartheid resolution from the lyrical intention, like a leader talking to a gaggle of geese, and the lack of confluence between these factors creates an emotional limbo bereft of feeling. With the quasi crisis of bringing their sound up to speed with a hyperactive blender, it ain’t no health drink, and whatever it is it needs more Vodka.