The Entrance Band
“The Entrance Band”
Ecstatic Peace

Did you ever think someone’s carrier would be ruined by wanking? Well, it just happened. Guy Blakeslee and his new-old band The Entrance Band, formerly known as Entrance, make a bunch of wierd choices in their new self-titled album. After the amazing Prayer of Death, Blakeslee decided to join forces again with drummer Derek W. James and bassist Paz Lenchantin to try and create another masterpiece like Prayer. And boy, did he fail! After being a lonesome, quiet and deep solo artist, Guy probably wanked too many times, and this poured into his music. The amount of self-love in this album is astonishing. Eventhough he is a mediocre guitar player, he insists in adding solos over and over again, trying his best to look like that one devil that challenged Jack Black in that movie I dont want to remember. Listening to this album is like asking for a sandwich from your deaf, armless wife. It just doesn’t work. The same can be said about his vocals. After delivering a perfect job in his previous work, this time he chooses to sing notes he can’t even reach and plague his cat-dying-in-a-fire moaning with insane amounts of reverb, only previously heard in the deep catacombs of Lolyousuckland.

His rythm musicians manage to do a decent job and, while not saving his rockstar ass, certainly allow us to enjoy little moments of genious musicianship. It’s the irony of ironies: the hired musicians are better than the genious frontman. And even they can’t save the amount of ripping-off going on in this album. You can close your eyes and feel Bono’s feet rubbing in your face while a bunch of 80’s bands await their turn. This is a clear example of why some people just shouldn’t be allowed to have record deals. You know that 15 year old kid down the road who has this garage (pronounced “garbage”) band that plays rock covers? Well, he randomly got a ton of money and hired famous musicians, so he can go ahead and record an album filled with those covers and change their names. Does that feel like musical hell yet?

The production of the album noticeably tries to hide the horrible job Guy does, but still fails to deliver an original, atmospheric sound. The amount of stock effect settings in it is impressive, and the abuse that the fake reverb and delay are put to is only comparable to that Monica Bellucci rape scene that you probably masturbated to and then felt bad about it. Even with it, you can still make out the out of tune singing and the false notes in Blakeslee’s solos.

After listening to this album, you are left wondering if there are still artists who care about music and their fans. I don’t have the answer, but at least, you can be sure Blakeslee took a nice dump over a picture of us, while grinning at the idea of you buying this horrible album just because the one before was good. Save yourself the trouble, bro. He doesn’t care about us.

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