bojano’s review of the songObject of Pain

late november, 3am, the heating's off. that's when this goes on and i won't be talked out of it. most of the record is matt king shrieking over clang and sludge, and here he just sings, flat and sullen, almost bored by the cruelty he's describing. the chorus borrows from closer and doesn't pretend otherwise. i rolled my eyes the first time. by the fourth listen i was sitting through the verses to get back to it.