I'm not sure who the momo in the band was that decided to liberally pepper sections that were lifted straight out of the Air Supply textbook of songwriting onto this album, but as I sat and listened, I half expected my head to detonate, Scanners style. I guess I should rewind and mention the ultra-pussified guitar sound. You know, the kind that guitarists acquire once they begin to believe that they now have "skillz".
Speaking of "skillz", there's no shortage of pseudo-guitar god wannabes (-aka- nerds who masturbate to Cynic) who praise this album as some sort of aural shrine of technicality drenched expertise. Ha ha fucking ha. Are these people on fucking crack?? I've listened to and thoroughly scanned this album time and time again in search of its technical grandeur and have always come up empty handed. Trust me, there is nothing on this album that a 10 year old couldn't play with only a few months of practice under his belt, not to mention the ultra-feeble and utterly limp wristed ventures unto the pedo ridden Candlyland that the keyboardist was undoubtedly attempting to convey. Apparently this guy had just recently been swept off his feet and was day dreaming about his lover's balls being dribbled on his face while he was recording his parts for the album. Yes, MVD's absence was indeed a non-fucking-factor at this point, yet despite these complaints, TOTA is not devoid of charm, however peculiar and bizarre it may be.