FROM Sheffield WITH Love
Few things in life are truly inevitable – like politicians with shockingly few brain cells actively destroying the planet for a quick cent; your child’s migraine-inducing teen angst phase, in which you develop a newfound respect for silence; and, of course, Bring Me The Horizon dropping a new album to a fanbase split between unequivocal adoration and sheer, seething rage.
From the moment they chased Count Your Blessings (a cut-and-dry deathcore album with blast beats in abundance, guttural breakdowns and an ear-busting surge of churlish squeals) up with Suicide Season (a glitchy, synth-infected metalcore mecca slicked over with tight and meticulous production), the South Yorkshire mainstays have been simultaneously praised as Gods and slandered as heathens of the highest disgrace. But 15 years deep, the fivesome have only grown more confident in their defiance.
Among other things, Amo is a big, juicy “f*** you” to the
