Where most metalcore bands tend to eschew the sex, drugs, and rock and roll lifestyle, At Wit's End revels in all of the above. "I wish to wake up early between two dead starlets upon a bed of money in a five-star hotel," frontman Pants Pantsley bellows on "Five Star Murder," the sarcasm dripping from his battered vocal cords. Alternating a clean, deep croon with a toe-curling shriek, Pantsley capably leads the charge over chugging, locomotive guitars that go straight for the throat. Hey, at least you can go out with a smile.
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