THE BLED'S rep is interesting on paper. They hail from that creative motherlode of all things Americana known as Tucson, Arizona and are labelmates with the ever-stylistically slippery Eels.
Both are potentially reasons to rejoice in this writer's book, but sadly the band's advance comparisons (Dillinger Escape Plan, The Refused etc) are considerably closer to the truth and if "My Assassin" (from new album "Found In The Flood") is typical of the band's strain of form then they won't be bothering my scorers' for long.
So what do we get? Predictably enough, it's all massive, cymbal-heavy drums tripping themselves up in an effort to deafen you; the expected 35 or so tempo-defying changes and tricky chord sequences in three and a half minutes and James Munoz screaming his lungs raw like his life depends on it. Oh well, beats 200 Marlboros a day for 10 years, I suppose.
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So, with grim inevitability, The Bled sound to me like another of those hugely hard-working bands (think The Lucky Nine, Funeral For A Friend and many more) who build up fiercely partisan followings and fail to touch this grumpy old reviewer however hard they toil. Nice try, lads, but for all the sweat and tears, The Bled's bleeding emotion says nothing to me about my life.
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