by Ali Patterson
Daily Lobo
Michael Jackson catches hell from critics for never wanting to grow up. He says he's like Peter Pan, as if you couldn't tell from his Neverland ranch, complete with carnival rides and playground equipment.
The members of Mest, however, should catch hell from critics for growing up too fast.
Mest's fourth album, Photographs, is more mature and solemn. Song topics range from double suicides to nightmares to finding faith when times are difficult.
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The album has a parental advisory warning from the Federal Communications Commission for explicit content, even though the lyrics contain no curse words.
Instead, the words are gruesome: "Stare at you as you slit my wrists and as we share our last kiss. Hold me as we die. Empty bottle to deal with this, pictures to reminisce."
These words are from the same band who at one time sang about rollin' in a Cadillac with the top down and seat back. The band also had a song where half the lyrics asked, "What's the dilly-o?" Fun times.
But now, lead singer Tony Lovato has taken a turn away from the ska-influenced punky happy songs to whiny, gory emo. On most of the tracks, Lovato sounds like the vocal twin of Pierre Bouvier, singer for Simple Plan. If you don't like Simple Plan's vomit-inducing gripes about daddy, you probably won't like this album.
But wait, there's hope. Photographs comes with a DVD. This documentary, titled "Seven Deadly Sins," shows the band members on tour and participating in the antics we know them for. Things like Nick Gigler, the drummer, pooping on the hood of someone's car and Lovato barfing after a show in Denver. The "Gluttony" segment shows band members scarfing Big Macs - and Gigler downs one in a minute flat.
These are the kinds of topics Mest should sing about.
So there's a gaping contradiction. The DVD, which fans will probably only watch once during times of intense boredom, shows these young, handsome dudes having fun and living it up on the road. The CD, which should at least get played a few times, details melancholy topics that make you want to run - not walk - to your therapist.
Call it senior slump, but Mest has definitely lost the punch it once packed. In the end, this album is kind of like the poop on the car. Possibly worth closer investigation, but it might be best to just walk away from this one.
