Ladies and Gentlemen! This is the first ever double review on the site. Two bands in one review? What would this sad site do without a progressive individual like myself to push the envelope?. Since both of these bands inhabit the same genre and are both the musical equivalent of Vegan food, I thought why not kill two birds with one stone.

So let's get down to business. Last week at work I stepped backwards into a stairwell, did some sort of twisting windmill trying to regain my balance and luckily my baseball cap cushioned the blow when my head struck the concrete. I was knocked unconscious for what they tell me was a minute or so and during this near death encounter I experienced a strange dreamlike state. I believe I actually entered hell, because the background music that played incessantly sounded like a Victory records summer emo band sampler.

As I gazed about the smoldering desolate terrain I caught vague glimpses of demons playfully torturing music critics with terrible, evil shitty music. Needless to say I feared for my safety as these demons were scary little monkeys, sporting bed-hair and numerous nautical star tattoos. There were even scary chick demons who kept screaming out band names like they knew them personally (they probably do) "Oh I love Conor, My Chemical, and Coheed!" I begged for them to stop, but they just glared at me through their cat eye glasses and snickered at my half-inch penis (this is when I knew for sure I was dreaming).

It was at about this point when I spotted Satan. Not surprisingly he looked a lot like the Boneman. Satan gave me the once-over (taking time to point and laugh at my minuscule unit) then he explained to me that my punishment was that I had to spend the rest of eternity writing reviews for nothing but emo bands. This is about the time I came to. And boy was I grateful that it had all been a dream and that the vomit I was laying in was my own.

Good God that experience was not pleasant, but I would soon understand that it was a picnic at the beach compared to the reality of waking up only to find Spitalfield and Number One Fan in my inbox. I accepted my fate and began to choke down these infernal musical offerings so that I might be able to formulate fair and honest opinions. Having just recovered from a head injury I was grateful that the music I'd been assigned wasn't "screamo." No this is the kind of emo with that slower melancholy sound - nauseatingly serious and self-important shit also known as "Hellmo."

Rumor has it Kyle England hates this stuff. And I'd have to say I share his disdain for this "emo without the screaming." Spitalfield writes songs with a quasi-political ambiguity that I found most repulsive. Maybe the blow to the head was affecting my judgment, but it sounded like fertilizer cheesecake to my ears. And as far as Number One Fan's lyrics go, I decided to skip desert and grab a plunger so I could gag myself. I've heard piss make better sounds when it splashes into the bowl. Hey readers just in case you want to become an emo basket case, I would first suggest killing yourself because life is just really hard. You see, the Boneman is always editing out all my swear words and telling me that I should take my reviews more seriously. Oh, let me tell you I'm fucking serious as shit about this double dip of dung. Go fuck yourself Boneman and stop rewriting my reviews!