So sigh with me; for all the promise their reunion had, they sound as if they're remembering how to work together, painting their album by numbers rather than taking risks or adding artistic flourishes of their own.

Requiem for Hell is anything but acceptable. It's lazy, trite, mundane, dull, and every other superficial adjective that's been thrown at the genre.

Black Kids are trying too hard, plain and simple.

Revolting, messy, lazy, and undeniably Sum 41, Screaming Bloody Murder is a dead band moaning in its grave. Any highlights here more or less just belong to other, better bands, or even Sum 41 themselves from the past.

Pink Elephant isn’t jumping the shark, so much as it is a formal DOD.

Comparing to what the band has done in recent years though, Siren Charms is still an unforgivable misstep containing oversights in both songwriting and execution that such a veteran band should be able to spot and correct.

Everything about Father of All Motherfuckers is lazy. It begins with the self-referential American Idiot album cover, which features a unicorn exhaling/vomiting rainbows whilst forcefully blowing flames out of its ass. The music is befitting of said artwork, as even the staunchest fan would have an aneurysm trying to figure out what the hell these guys were thinking on this one.

It's too empty, too boring, too lifeless, too lazy.

Hayley Williams gives the first of several poor singing performances on the record [on lead single, "Low"]; the verses are toneless and she tries to cram too many words into them without really saying anything.

There are no surprises (other than the lyrics about cutting himself) and nothing all that redeeming to take away from the listen.

The London five’s debut effort is hampered by uninspired, unmemorable songwriting and a baby-proofed approach to recording and composing that ensures anything that could be described as edgy or life-affirming is, at best, lost in translation.

This is an empty record, and the exact opposite of what it means to write classic music, because through all its forced smiles and fake problems, it's an album that means absolutely nothing to me.

Not even some admittedly slick production can drag this out of the mire.

This album sucks and is probably the band’s best and worst work yet. Sleep Token have conclusively proven themselves to be wholly incompetent songwriters and everything here is almost offensively boring.

Any message contained within Lulu is lost in the whirl of discordant guitar work, Reed's mutterings and the complete sense of abject disappointment that surrounds the entire album.

It's just a sludgy, grumpy record from a band who once knew pop music needed whimsy.

Universal Mind Control is offensively bad.

Can’t Say I Ain’t Country is an amalgamation of country-pop’s worst features. It’s country without the grit or emotion; pop without any of the fun or hooks.

WE STILL DON’T TRUST YOU has little to offer on basically any front. On the drama front, there are no haymakers or grand declarations. There are a few guests that stop by ala Mr. Rodgers style to give low-effort mumblings to the effect of “Drake Sucks,” but much of the project is devoid of anything compelling enough to hang your hat on.

Music For Robots functions as the first embarrassingly terrible album of 2014, and should be avoided by all except those with an extremely morbid sense of curiosity.

Sticky is the very definition of throwing sh*t at the wall and seeing what sticks. Unfortunately for this album, nothing does, and all you’re left with is the horrible odour from its experimentation.

Like "Red Carpet Massacre," The Block is proof that it requires more than the best producers and songwriters to make good pop music

Is it a question of [Moore]simply not caring, or does he actually believe that his fans are too stupid to not realize any clear lack of progression and that they're simply being force-fed the same half-assed bass trends again and again and again?

[Forever] ends up being a stitched-together collection of hackneyed, banal platitudes laid over tongue-bitingly asinine hook after hook, all so mewling and flabby there’s little to grasp beyond feeble stabs at nostalgia.

It's just we know there's more to this guy than this sluggish, lifeless material.

With its terrible lyrics, uninspired and generic music and general sense of boredom, the only positive to glean from the wreckage was at least it couldn't get worse.

The melodies just aren’t flowing and the choruses are rarely memorable. The instrumentation is lacking to say the least, and their brand new ideas are questionable at best. There’s absolutely no lyrical, emotional, or musical substance.

This record comprises fourteen tracks, yet managed to be nothing more than a bad concoction of bad pop punk, bad rap rock, bad lyrics, and vaguely competent performances.