Hinder

Don't let Hinder's penchant for boilerplate, hair-metal power ballads fool you into thinking they have a heart. Though they may soundtrack high-school prom slow dances, they're just as apt to spend the rest of the dance crashing everyone else's photographs as they drunkenly flash the shocker. With all of Motley Crue's misogyny but none of the self-aware humor, constipated frontman Austin Winkler sings of cheap booze and mean-spirited sex. This is modern hard-rock at its worst.