Put a Light On is another great example of Generationals’ sound, but it wouldn’t sound out of place on an iPhone commercial. (Actually, that’d make a great iPhone commercial.) Curiously, since Generationals are clearly not keen in staying in one place, I Never Know has more in common with Whole Lotta Love era Led Zeppelin than it does Vampire Weekend. And I adore I Used to Let You Get to Me, which is catchy and angry and proud and melodic all at the same time.

There aren’t many moments on this record that aren’t pure fun. Let me put it to you this way: If I was putting together a barbecue with some friends right now (which I am) and was putting together some music for it (and of course I am), then Heza would be featured in nearly its entirety (and it will be).

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Oh Emily is as fun a post-breakup song as you could ever hear, and At Last has all the charm of a modern romance (it really picks up in the middle or so). Say When is filled with smart songwriting and sensibilities, and a great piano line married to a catchy beat. (Coincidentally, you might have noticed Generationals’ Heza also has a track called Say When. Heza is also reviewed in this issue. I did not plan this.)

The album takes a turn halfway through, with Dead suddenly becoming very quiet, but it really resonates. Something about the shift in tone really works. Adulthood is sad, but true: “From adulthood, no one survives.” But it’s said with such poppy exuberance that it makes me want to dance. All For Love is bouncy and inventive without straying too far from a recognizable formula.

Everybody Knows would have been a sold album closer on its own, but Jukebox the Ghost’s choice to end the album with The Spiritual stuns me. It’s so different from everything else on the record, and so immediately somber, that it’s striking. It’s visceral in its immediacy. It’s reminiscent of Queen’s ballads, and there’s a couple notes where I suddenly feel like I’m listening to Freddie Mercury.

When the final track is done, and the silence enveloped me, I’m left sitting in awe. Safe Travels is one of the most cohesive and complete albums I’ve heard all year.

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Stars and Satellites is as sorrowful as you could expect a major-key guitar-picked song to be. “My head has always been so much older than my shoulders can believe,” Dan sings. And as he does, it sounds like he speaks for an entire generation.

She’s a Drug is beautiful, with a simple piano progression carrying it along. Credit Valley is a great example of the album’s slow build: Dan takes his time slowly making Leave Your Love into a folk piece de resistance.

New Street Name brings in a banjo, which weren’t back in vogue yet at the time of the album’s release. Leave Your Love is an unusually back-loaded release though. Lorne Park and Emily are highlights, but the album’s title track closes everything so beautifully that it’s hard not to throw the disc on repeat during a muggy summer afternoon. This is one of the most beautiful folk albums you’ll ever hear.

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Listen to Closed Hand, Full of Friends. The chorus is as adult alternative pop as it gets, but who cares? This is seriously catchy. I could listen to this song on repeat.

Thankfully, Foy’s not writing catchy anthems constantly: the title track is great too, and definitely sadder. You and I is one of those male/female country duets, but it’s better than it ought to be. Janey is catchy and enthusiastic, and Paper Prince seems to glide with a glossy pop quality that somehow reminds me of some of Foo Fighters’ quiet songs (and might be my favourite on the album).

On It Was Good, Foy is doing some of my favourite tricks, dancing around with his voice and the guitar interlocking together. It’s cool. Guiding Light, the final track, features Ed Sheeran. Nothing I can say gives this album more stronger credit than simply saying it features Ed Sheeran.

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Something’s changed though. Now they’re a good Metallica/Iron Maiden cover band. I mean, this album is basically a complete and total ripoff of The Black Album, which skyrocketed Metallica to stardom. I mean, your grandmother probably knows Enter Sandman and Nothing Else Matters. Well, compare Shepherd of Fire to Enter Sandman in structure and riffage. There are a ton of similarities.

Similarly, compare This Means War and Sad But True. They’re nearly the same song, especially that verse riff. I’m not complaining. The Black Album is one of the best hard rock albums of all time. I still listen to it, and I can’t say that about all the metal records I’ve got.

If you can get over the poser pretence of “It’s not metal enough!”, you might realize Avenged Sevenfold are actually great songwriters with cranked up Marshall amps and pointy guitars. Heretic sounds like Iron Maiden, and not even in a modern way. It’s vintage, like my old Alice in Chains teeshirt. And the title track is really making the rounds right now.

What really impresses me, though, is Acid Rain. It ends the album strongly with all sorts of emotional crooning and Guns and Roses-like bravado.

With Hail to the King, Avenged is straddling the line between hard rock your mom could listen to and hard rock with just enough bite to keep it cool. Check it out.

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