It deservedly became a hit on both sides of the Atlantic in 2005, dragging its accompanying album -- 2004's , the group's second -- along for the ride, turning into stars, at least in modern rock circles. But, anybody who didn't follow the fashions of emo and punk closely might have ignored the group's tragic, romantic neo-goth image and merely assumed that was another good poppy punk one-hit wonder, not far removed from, say,. Actually, death is the only big theme on , which shouldn't come as a big surprise for a band that named their stopgap live album , nor should the record's theatricality come as much as a shock, either -- tragedy and melodrama are hardwired in the group's DNA, as illustrated by the often-told tale of 's inspiration to form the band. Also, it's not as if is 's first concept album, either. Their 2002 debut, , and its follow-up, , told the interlocking story of doomed lovers on the run from vengeful vampires or some such nonsense, but only the hardcore who were willing to analyze endlessly on the Internet were aware of this; based on pure sound, was an emo-punk band through and through, screaming out their feelings as if they were revelations, so it was easy to assume that their music was merely autobiographical. Naturally, those allusions are quite deliberate, and one that played up in that pre-release campaign, dropping liberal reference to particularly and 's as well. It was all quite reminiscent of how set up with endless name-dropping of and , but where the Las Vegas quartet wound up with an unholy fusion of these two extremes, never synthesizes; they openly steal from their holy trinity, then graft it upon the sound they've patented. Often, it seems as if they copied onto tracing paper and placed it upon. Like , shares a love of classic metal that manifests itself in both pummeling riffs and soaring guitar solos, plus they also have a flair for melody, two things that give their solipsistic rock muscle and grandeur. If didn't have these gifts, would collapse in a pile of drama club clichés, sophomoric self-pity, and an adolescent obsession with death, yet they manage to skirt such a disaster even if they flirt with it shamelessly. But that doesn't necessarily mean that the album is a triumph. For one, plays a lot straighter than it reads. Sure, it has the marching bands, overdubbed choirs, radio-play theatrics, and cameos, a list that makes the album sound like a wild Grand Guignol rock opera but all of that winds up being window dressing to music that often isn't far removed from what has done before. Despite all these seemingly fancy accouterments, they're still a modern emo-punk band, which means for all the emotion poured out by their ever-earnest lead singer, there's little grit in their sound and 's brittle production doesn't help, as its wall of digital sound emphasizes the sonic similarities between the songs instead of their differences. And there are a lot of similarities here: the bulk of the record is firmly within 's comfort zone, which helps make the extra flair -- which doesn't arrive as often as it should -- stand out all the more.
