Staind seem to sneer at the very notion of forward movement on the title of their sixth album, The Illusion of Progress, and that disdain very well may be a Freudian slip, as the Springfield, MA, rock band stubbornly refuses to evolve over the course of a decade. If anything, with each album their aggression erodes and the angst of frontman Aaron Lewis mellows into a mild grumpiness that surfaces only when he's not singing profane songs of devotion, which is most of the time. Ballads have always been his forte, a convenient vehicle for his quivering sensitivity and accidental melodicism, yet it's still startling how slow The Illusion of Progress unfolds, as Staind rarely muster the energy to move beyond midtempo even when they deign to crank up their amps for anthems of mild alienation or vague inspiration. Instead, they prefer to spend their time plucking electrics as if they were acoustics, creating arpeggios that recall "It's Been a While" while sidestepping replication because this slow, stately crawl is now the sound of Staind: they're easy listening grunge, music for recovering extreme sports addicts. So, it should come as no surprise that The Illusion of Progress is filled with love songs from Lewis, a married father of three who pledges his commitment and chronicles his insecurities and dreams in moody minor chords; it's not just an album recorded at his home studio, it's about his home. As always, Lewis' sincerity is disarming and strangely endearing, as unlike so many of his posturing peers he seems like a genuinely good guy, which is enough to make it hard not to wish that he could break free from his inadvertent lyrical clichés, clumsy expletives, and obvious Bob Dylan allusions, to say something specific instead of something sweeping, but that would be progress, something that Staind don't desire because they're perfectly content with where they are. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
By Staind album five it's remarkable how much bile still sits in Aaron Lewis' gut, how much mental anguish he's endured. But what's equally remarkable is how diligently he regurgitates it. He's like the post-grunge Job. Arguably emotion trumps Layne Staley and Alice in Chains as being the biggest component in this music. Lewis' first-person therapy drove the 2001 breakthrough "It's Been Awhile," his psyche was the star of 2003's 14 Shades of Grey, and he's once again searching, waiting, wondering, and flailing on Chapter V. "I'm still wearing this miserable skin," he cries in the churning "Please." "Why can't you just forgive me?" he pleads in the moody lead single, "Right Here." "I don't want to relive all the mistakes/I've made along the way." Staind often settles into a stodgy trudge somewhere south of melody, and the Alice/Pearl Jam/Tool forces are still strong. ("Devil" is like a Pearl Jam-branded template.) But the thing about Lewis is that he's just so genuine. Hundreds of frontmen pour out their emotions, from post-grunge bruisers to diary-clutching emo ninnies. But you can tell it's not a gimmick with Lewis. There are no illusions to his lyrics, no opportunistic shadows behind his words. "Tell me please/Who the f*ck do you want me to be?" -- Lewis could care less about looking macho when his heart's on the line. He searches for his emotional rescue in every note of every song, and if the hook suffers, well, too bad. Unfortunately they do suffer on Chapter V -- the mostly mid-tempo songs plod along, usually turning to a screeching lead guitar over chunky chording to differentiate the choruses. But by this point in the band's career it's likely fans are responding exclusively to Lewis' heady turmoil, not just waiting for a melody as strong as the one in "It's Been Awhile." V does still has its moments. "Take This" builds gently to an understated chorus -- it wouldn't be out of place on a Lifehouse album -- and "Right Here" is strong. As for rocking, "Falling" satisfies in a mid-'90s modern rock radio sort of way. But Staind is still about that wounded muscle in Lewis' chest, and whether or not he'll ever find redemption. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
Staind broke through the nu-metal murk in 2001 with Break the Cycle because the band landed upon a rather ingenious formula -- toning down the aggression and turning up the emotion, all the while returning to the Alice in Chains-styled grunge that began the whole alt-metal mania of the '90s. Evidently, American audiences were hungry for big sensitive guys with tattoos crooning ballads, since Break the Cycle and its single, "Been a While," were inescapable throughout 2001, and soon Staind had eclipsed even its mentor, Fred Durst's Limp Bizkit, in popularity, raising expectations for the group's third album, 2003's 14 Shades of Grey. What they've delivered is a record that follows through on the neo-grunge and soul-baring, sensitive journal entries of Break the Cycle. There are plenty of loud guitars here, but the overall sense of aggression has been tempered considerably as Aaron Lewis' thoughts and feelings take the forefront, with the music used as coloring for his emotion. That means there's not much visceral kick in the rhythms, nor are there head-snapping hooks in the riffs, or catchy melodies. Like a metallic variation on emo, where expression trumps any other consideration, Staind is all about how Lewis is feeling -- whether it's about the world, love, his daughter "Zoe Jane," or his idol, "Layne." The tempos, even when fast, let Lewis emote, and he does so with a full-bodied croon, something that sounds particularly jarring when he sings "f***," which he does a lot, often in choruses. The croon, the profanity, and his obsession with documenting his emotions in detail -- an obsession with his feelings on the level of second-wave sensitive '70s singer/songwriters who also reveled in the specificity of their situations -- are in full bloom on 14 Shades of Grey, and they have the net result of either making listeners empathize completely or turning them off completely. That specificity of situation might, in fact, make the audience that connects with this smaller than the legions who loved "It's Been a While" -- particularly because there are no songs with hooks, let alone hooks as undeniable as that -- but those who connect with Staind will likely find this more consistently satisfying than Break the Cycle. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
The title of Staind's sophomore album refers to the misery passed on from generation to generation; specifically, singer Aaron Lewis' family issues. And Break the Cycle is an issues album -- Lewis' therapy session for all to hear. "For You" reads like a final confession from child to parent ("I am f*cked up because you are"), and on the hit single "It's Been Awhile," he sings, "I cannot blame this on my father." Staind wraps up all this pain in deceivingly melodic packages, sort of like Nirvana's "All Apologies" without the depth. Lewis has a Kurt Cobain-like ache to his voice, which makes the more affecting songs -- like the acoustic version of "Outside" -- genuine (or at least appear that way). Cycle is ultimately no more than 50 minutes of standard-issue desolation, but the softness of many of the tracks gives it compassion, something most of Staind's peers have no time for. ~ Michael Gallucci, All Music Guide
At the beginning of the '90s, "metal" was a dirty word. A few bands, such as Metallica, had enough weight to appear as heirs to the metallic crown, but for the most part, it was the province of lightweight pop-metal mavens. How times change. By the end of the decade, metal was ultra-serious, with the typical band tackling somber, even morose, subjects without humor either in their lyrics or music; it was nothing but a constant grind. Staind is very much emblematic of its era, as much as Poison was of its -- which isn't meant to be a slam, actually. It's just that the band's debut album, Dysfunction, is a product of the times. Staind shows a lot of promise on Dysfunction, but you'd forgive a casual observer for thinking that it's an average alt-metal record, because in many ways it is. Unlike Korn or Limp Bizkit (who fervently endorsed Staind, so much so that LB's lead singer, Fred Durst, co-produced the album), Staind doesn't really have a distinct image or musical style, but the band does summarize '90s underground metal, from Alice in Chains to Tool to Korn. This is hookless, solo-less music where the sonic texture serves as coloring for the bleak words. Not necessarily an easy listen for the uninitiated, but anyone who's grown up on alt-metal will find familiar touchstones throughout the record and will be pleased at how the band easily shifts tempos and sonic colorings, while Aaron Lewis actually sings on much of the record. These are subtle pleasures, the kinds that aficionados will appreciate. Other listeners, however, will likely find Dysfunction a little tedious, since there isn't a wide variety of songs on the record, nor is there anything catchy. That, of course, is a signature trait of alt-metal and helps make the record a sign of the times -- but that doesn't mean it's an easy record to enjoy for anyone outside of the cognoscenti. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide