Behind Closed Doors is stodge-pop by numbers. It starts, it finishes. The bit in the middle has crunchy guitars, a beat which is an abhorrent attempt at creating Timbaland-style balladry, and a new approach to vocals from Andre. Gone is the over-sexed saccharine squeal, swapped here for a gruff, pseudo-mature husk which is as transparent as Andre is expendable.
Expect the lyrics to be interpreted as a looking glass into the Andre-Price’s pea-brained world. Expect everyone to like it in an ironic way too.
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