JGuy Grungeman

I always give a genre a chance when I try it out. I am an outspoken fan of brostep, and have two brostep albums in my top 100. And one of the best hip hop album's I've heard is a trap album. Having said that, why the "daddy dick" did I decide to play the worst album ever, "I'm Not a Fan, But the Kids Like It!" I didn't know music could get this bad.

Intro - The album starts with an uninteresting intro of unintelligible wailing sirens and simple, overdone electronic techniques. It ends with an explosion, possibly trying to show of some form of badassness in the form of running away from police cars (sirens) and exploding something. The production is so heavy that it fails. Now for the songs. Get your earplugs ready. And by that, I mean PLEASE get your earplugs ready.

Skeet Skeet - Skeet Skeet's rhythm is unoriginal in every way, and the lyrics/vocal combination makes me wish I could throw up on a copy of the album. I am reminded of a nine year old girl at a Wal-Mart who wanted to buy Justin Bieber's Never Say Sever DVD just to stab it.

Late Night Call - Now the Late Night Call skit is probably the worst thing I've ever heard. You see, vulgarity is a touchy subject and a form of immorality, but music isn't a life lesson. It's an art. So vulgarity can be done right. Brokencyde doesn't know how to do anything right, including vulgarity. You see, Wu-Tang made an art out of it. Brokencyde actually managed to insult the f-bomb, and not impressively. Booty Call is so unintelligible I have no comment.

Get Crunk - As far as "Get Crunk" goes, I've never wanted to throw out alcohol so much in my life. In that sense, I can greatly avoid getting even a little crunk and gleefully join smart people in telling Brokencyde to suck it, and by "It," and mean their music. Not their "daddy dicks." The singing of this song has nothing but unintelligible screaming, and not cool in the "Just Awake" way. I want to be able to understand the vocals of a song. Too noisy, extremely dumb, and lacking any sort of smart composition.

"Yellow Bus" has some of the worst vocals I've ever heard, unsuccessfully hiding their injudicious sense of composition and their excruciating lack of mental capacity behind a collaboration of hackneyed bleeps and excessive vulgarity that spews body parts and f-bombs like a cliche'd M. Night Shaymalan film but in the form of a pretend credibility among gangsters, thus making Yellow Bus the most notable song to be a SEXUAL TORTURE DEVICE. But I'm sure the only word that Brokencyde would be able to understand in this review is "the." It was at this moment I realized I can't even rate the songs hear, because half-a star out of 5 is five and a half stars to merciful.

Get Up - "Get Up" tried, or pretended to be an improvement, but it seems like I was hearing the same thing over and over again. No originality at all.

Jealousy - "Jealously" tries to be more dramatic. I can picture rain falling down on the band in some music video, and I can hear the sad, depressing cries of every tear that has had the misfortune to fall upon Brokencyde's jackets. But this is my fantasy. So I humbly apologize to the rain.

Poppin - “Poppin” continues the lame, excessive sexual romps and tries to call it music. It seems like the only lyrics they like are controversial ones. I missed the part where hundreds of sexual references equate to musical talent, especially when they're all about sucking phallic little xenomorphs that are hidden under a modern fabric loin cloth. Actually, I think that last sentence would've made much better lyrics that what Brokencyde has to offer.

40 oz. - OK. I can't even tell what's going on in the intro to “40 oz.,” and I don't really want to know what's going on for the rest. “Get your sex on.” 4 Times.

Sex Toys - “Sex Toys” is ironically the most engaging song on the album. And that's not good. I would really rather not get into this.

“Rockstar.” - OK, let me give you a line from the chorus. But don't expect I'm having s** unless you shave your pubes.” WWWWWHHHHHAAAAATTTTT? I'm sorry but these people wouldn't know good lyrics if it bit them on their shaven pubes.

Schitzo – I'm pretty sure these guys have schizophrenia, along with the constant amount of STD's that might be the inspiration for the majority of this poor album's lyrics.

Scene Girlz – The Title alone scares me. Sadly, this is another one of the most engaging ones, and this isn't something nice I'm saying. I really do not want to be engaged in this song. There's a censored “D-word.” And then the singer goes on to say “I could've said d---, but I won't say d--- until you grab my d---.” If I didn't get it right, I really couldn't care less, because there's no way I'm going back to listen to the horrible pieces of trash that the band had the stupidity to write.

Tipsy – Tipsy starts of pretty quite, and the vocalist (whoever it is), has some fairly decent vocals for the intro of the song. And then comes the rest of the song that ruins the whole song and makes it so the intro is not redeeming in the least bit because the terribleness is too strong. No rhythm, horrid lyrics, but at least it's quiet for a little while.

The final track is “I'm Sorry,” which I had hoped was some kind of comedic apology to the world for making this album, butknoew that wasn't it. It was nothing but a bunch of noisy screaming I couldn't make out, but I'm sure it had something to do with junks. It certainly tries to be the best on the album, even with all that screaming that is so loud that I don't know what the guy is saying. It sounds like “Yahyahyaaoo!” Horrid ending, but at least it's the ending.

Overall, the production drowns out most of the lyrics, any and all lyrics I can make out are horrible, the rhythms are often so redundant and unoriginal that I feel dirty just for thinking "this is kind of catchy." Sadly, my Metroid fanhood has given me a love for high-pitched, smooth electronics. So it was a tiny bit cool for a moment. The music lover inside me wants God to punish me for listening to this, almost as much as I want God to punish Brokencyde, music's very own essential drunk 20-something pervs. The band may not even realize the album was about utter sexual stupidity, becausre that's probably all they can understand. How they gathered the intelligence to make an album is beyond me. Most people don't like crunkcore. I think crunkcore should be insulted to have this in its catalogue. I can see a personification of crunk core (a giant robot that looks like a hipster beer bottle ) angrily slapping all of the across the face with a giant hand three times as large as their heads, twice. I can see “the elders of music” banning them from life itself. I really hope I didn't get any dumber just by listening to it.

Negative 100 out of 100.

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