I'll start this review with a confession: I was a teenage stereotype. I spent the majority of my adolescence locked in my bedroom listening to the Smiths and Morrissey. To be fair, I spend a fair amount of my adult life listening to the Smiths and Morrissey. Mozza may come across a daft git at times, recent controversies included, but he's my daft git and I love him, so back off, alright?

Anyway, during those dark years of teenage angst I always envisaged that when the day finally did arrive when I chose to leave “this unhappy planet," I would do it while listening to 'I Know It's Over' on repeat, maybe in the tub, with a few candles lit (hey, mood is important). However, after listening to Hollywood Under The Knife I may have to review my choice of soundtrack for my theoretical suicide because The Opiates have created the perfect album for slitting your wrists to.

It's not that I don't like a bit of gloomy synthpop every now and then. It never did Depeche Mode any harm, after all. It's just – a whole album of it? Where all but two of the songs are well over five minutes long? And they all sound exactly the same? Really?

At several points while listening to this album I thought the track markings were just a formality. The music throughout remains the same: dark, slow and faintly foreboding electro, synths set to stun (possibly into a coma). I genuinely couldn't tell the difference between the two versions of 'Candy Coated Crime', except that one was even longer than the other.

Which brings me onto the average duration of a song on this LP. Every artist is allowed one grandiose, six minute experimental epic per album, but seven out of nine tracks is never going to win you any favours. It says something when all I could think of to write down while listening to 'Reality TV' was “not ridiculously long – finally!” and to note that the intro reminded me of 'Beat And The Pulse' by far superior electro outfit Austra, although I doubt it's anything other than a coincidence. Plus there's nothing about any of these songs that justifies them being so long, no change of style or tempo, no heartfelt or attention-grabbing lyrics. The only grandiose thing about this record is the song titles, but gems such as 'Oprah's Book Of The Month Club (Part Two)' and 'Dinah And The Beautiful Blue Dildo' fall short of epic, landing instead in the faintly ludicrous and try-hard camp.

The lyrics are where vocalist and lyricist Billie Ray Martin could have tried harder. 'Silent Comes The Night (Again)' and 'Anatomy Of A Plastic Girl' suffer from some particularly cheesy lines, whereas 'Candy Coated Crime' appears to be nothing more than a collection of bad puns (“Will you be my sweet accomplice?”) and incomprehensible similes (It's like a murder in a sweet shop”, anyone?).

Martin's voice is another thing I just don't “get”. Her voice is often described as “unique” and she's certainly had some successes as a vocalist, but to me she sounds like the kind of unremarkable soul-light singer that the X Factor loves so much, which also seems slightly at odds with the music.

I don't mean to sound unnecessarily harsh; The Opiates and Billie Ray Martin herself have had some good reviews, and I can imagine they go down well in whatever Germany's equivalent of Ministry Of Sound is (they're based in Berlin), if only because heavy drug use would render the experience far more enjoyable. But shall we say they're not my cup of tea?