Consider me one of those dudes that always gave gothic metal the benefit of the doubt. My interest in the blueprint aside from one or two bands has waned significantly since discovering metal's many flavors, however, so saying it's my little snuggle-bunny would not be very accurate. Most gothic metal is just boring music; it's cheap, predictable, and hardly noteworthy. I have faith that a diamond can be pulled from the coal mine, but an album like "Eleven Scars" continues to prove this identity is eating itself alive from the inside-out. My Inner Burning ends up well-short of the finish line despite the best of intentions, and this record brings only boredom to their home-stricken equations of self-immolation. Now that would be a real inner burning. *Ba dum tsh*First off, I have to say Becky Gaber and Jörg Janssen have amazing voices and make up one of the best vocal duos I've ever heard. The female leads are absolutely sensational and unique, and Janssen's ripping growl that sounds a lot like Jan-Chris De Koeijer from Gorefest (always a plus) rattles the musical core like an earthquake, and their combined efforts save this album from utter annihilation. The rest of "Eleven Scars" falls because the musical punch is simply nonexistent in My Inner Burning's manifesto, which succumbs to a vile mixture of gothic metal in its weakest form and instrumentation so lackluster that this album could become an alternative to Ambien. The band basically takes minimalist groove or stop-start riffs and stirs in atmospheric keyboards with tepid percussion on the side; it's a formulaic postulate that simply does not work. The songs generally blend together because there really isn't anything to separate each track's direction, and things like power, speed, or passion left the building long ago.
I acquired this idea that My Inner Burning relates more to groove-laden goth bands like In This Moment (minus the puking -core influence) more than anything else. Hey, if easily-accessible music is your thing, then you might disagree with me, but I believe "Eleven Scars" appeals to the lowest-common denominator of musicality. I don't want you to think my pessimism has the dictatorial edge, however. I mean, they throw out a listenable riff every full moon and sometimes manage to get their poop in a group. I'm actually quite fond of the melancholic direction they take throughout the sorrowful, jam-ish ballad "When I'm Gone" before going crazy with an ultra-heavy haymaker titled "Demons," so no, this album is not a complete waste.
It is, however, trapped by numerous inconsistencies that My Inner Burning can't seem to weave around no matter what they do. Every track takes a slight twist on the record's spectrum whether it be stop-start riffing ala Korn on "Masquerade," prominent guitar leads during the chorus of "Analize," or a plethora of poppy keyboards, but these little spins are forceless and ultimately disposable. The songs are all written in the same way with verses here, choruses there, repeating the rehashed structures, and then finally (and thankfully) cutting the crap. It's kind of frustrating because some of their ideas aren't bad, but the execution is incredibly dull.
In the case of "Eleven Scars," I am especially sad. Not because of the life-is-hard-so-let's-cry-instead-of-fixing-our-problems lyrics, oh no; I filled a river with tears because this band has a lot of potential that crumbles underneath them. Then again, there are too many similar factions that suffer from the same illness that seems to infect every gothic metal band on the planet. "Eleven Scars" brings nothing new to the genre, so instead of drowning your sorrows in this vapid soup of banality, do what I do: take some Paxil and kick life in the nuts. Actually, maybe that's just what gothic metal needs to turn its act around, because this sh*t is getting old.