Papa Roach

They never really had a chance, did they? From start to finish, the sixth studio album from Papa Roach comes across as a final desperate grab for relevance in a musical climate that discarded their genre years ago. Even the band seem confused about what they're trying to say with Metamorphosis, restlessly shifting between moody, Trent-inspired hard rock drones and arena rock throwaways. Front-man Jacoby Shaddixx screams out clichéd lyrics that often ironically mirror the state of P-Roach's career, particularly on lead-off single "Hollywood Whore": "The party's over/Don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you." It's hard to romanticize Papa Roach's early days but when listening to Metamorphosis one can't help but long for that snotty white rap-rock dude (sans make-up) shouting: "My name is Coby Dick, Mr. Dick, if you nasty." Papa Roach have certainly undergone some kind of metamorphosis but it's clear that their transformation is more about marketing than maturation. And as insane as it is to accuse a cookie-cutter band like Papa Roach of turning their back on their roots this album is such a mess that I have to go listen to "Last Resort" and cry for a few hours now.