In a shocking case of a pot calling a kettle black, The Bad Habits‘ Myspace finds the band indulging in some less than friendly banter with a non-fan, during which they take him to task thus: “To be honest its not only your spelling thats shocking, its your grammar…. and finally i dont know what impession you have but my personal hygiene is perfectly fine thank you very much.” All this after describing their singer, Jade Hammant, as a “song writing jenius” in their biog. And there I was thinking simply calling your band The Bad Habits was criminal in its sheer, blinding tediousness.
If nothing else The Bad Habits have a surfeit of self-confidence. Actually, thinking about it, they really do have nothing else. No soul, no wit, no originality, nothing that might, for one fleeting moment, separate them from a bunch of desperate Fame Academy-bothering utter fucking non-entities whose ambition is inversely proportional to their talent.
By-rote guitar fuzz of the Disney-goes-grunge variety, and the odd Guns’n’Roses steal backs up a twee, shrill female voice so utterly bereft of character you wonder whether sticking it through Cubase might actually inject some humanity into it. Fat chance. I mean, she makes Avril Lavigne sound like Kat Bjelland; this coupled with a lyrical depth that makes Miley Cyrus look like Ian Curtis. Mind you, what do you expect from a band who quote Alanis Morrisette as a primary influence?
The band promises that “We now deliver dirty rock mixed with sexy, heartfelt vocals right to your door”, although with songs like this, the only thing they’re ever likely to be delivering to people’s doors are Domino’s pizzas. If they’re considering changing their name – and they really should – might we suggest Bettie Bland and the Soulless Tedium Band? It would at least give any potential listeners a fair idea what they were in for before wasting any precious time.