Review by UnhinderedbyTalent for Adrenaline Mob - Omertá (2012)

Supergroups largely suck as a concept. Adrenaline Mob start out stronger than most others by they had drum aficionado Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater in the line-up and long serving Symphony X vocalist Russell Allen front and centre. Oh, and a couple of guys from Fozzy (meh). On paper then there was the promise of something interesting at least. Inevitably though, what is on paper is much better than reality, and this most definitely the case with Adrenaline Mob.

For a start, I don’t like Russell Allen’s, straining whilst having a poo style of vocals at all. They fall short of any operatic/epic metal standards and are by far the most annoying aspect of the record. When these guys were all sat round having a beer and going “Hey man, we should record an album together!” at least one of them should have gone “Hang on, do we actually fit together?”. As a result of missing this simple sense check, this album lacks any coherent form or substance. Allen’s vocals take the groove metal prowess of the group and dumbs it down to some indifferent (pun intended – read the tracklisting) mish mash of heavy metal vocals over some potentially interesting riffs and rhythms.

Considering I have zero time for Fozzy, Rich Ward does a great job alongside Mike Orlando on the guitar front. Great leads get pulled out of what are otherwise laborious and poorly conceived structures that are let down largely by a very tame and underwhelming vocalist. Can you write groove rock? Well, no in all honesty. This does not stop the mindless pop/country/rock of All on the Line getting an inclusion here though. Evidence of predictable ego playing an unwelcome from a bloated bunch of metal “celebs”?

For his part, Portnoy is as good as you would expect him to be. I doubt he breaks sweat here though and I cannot help but think of the image of him pounding the skins with one hand, whilst the other sips from coffee cup, the rest of the band looking like they have run a marathon to keep up with him as they puff hard, chests wheezing and faces all ruddy.

Somewhere after the aptly named Hit the Wall, I drifted into a coma in all honesty. It is arguable to me that this is even metal in some parts but I care so little about this album and all the layers of cheese that accompany it (even Lzzy fucking Hale gets an appearance, FFS) that the Hall of Judgement nomination can stay untouched.