The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus Album Review

The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' Don't You Fake It packs Guile's sweet sonic boom, Sagat's emo uppercut, and E. Honda's rapid punk punch that'll knock your rock-crazed carcass on its caboose.

If you're not jiving with the Street Fighter references, in Lehman's terms-there's nada faux orgasmic to Don't You Fake It. The vocals are Chinese star sharp, prominently dicing through complimentary instrumentals like a hitchhiker whistling in the middle of traffic. Funny enough, the quintet admits their bizarre name alludes to zilch. Sorry conspirator nerds, it's not a codename for the mother ship. As Western showdown music plays curiously in the distance... "They let their music do the talking." Unlike the hallow name, Jumpsuit's lyrics straddle an opposing paradigm, teetering between substance-driven balls-to-the-walls electricity and CNN seriousness.

Jumpsuit's single, and most dramatic tour de force, "Face Down," is an emotionally raw experience that aptly spits on the ignorance surrounding domestic abuse. Its poignant ascension rivals only the incremental pleasure King Kong must have felt climbing atop the Empire State Building. The best of the rest-"Misery," "Cat And Mouse," "Atrophy," and "Guardian Angel."-are either shape shifters full of rattlesnake venom or provide a surprisingly plush touch. Most of them blast into lyrical orbit with declaratory romps or slow-build high-reward ballads.

The album's leftovers wet so-so hues on the cool kid litmus test. That's not to say the remaining songs lack an acidic edge. Actually, it's almost as troubling to find a song we despised, as it is to find an underpaid NBA star. Twelve tracks total, the album's very conscious of exhaustion. The first ten songs never surpass three minutes and 30 seconds. Trust us, that's a good thing. With so much whizzing around in each track, Jumpsuit leaves the welcome mat out just long enough before it's downtrodden to dust.