Nice number of guests, but it doesn’t cut it. The vocals are bad Roger Miret circa 1991, the music is stubborn metalcore, and all else is meat and potatoes.
Explosive guitar, beefy vocals that pour like syrup on a sundae and sometimes snarl like metal scraping concrete, and beats that bop, slam, and move your butt.
A choir here, a trumpet there, a guest guitarist in the middle, they make the wise choice of welding together a kind of identity that side-steps genre hopping.