Each year that musicians sail further into the horizon of "the computer age," the glint of hope that the sounds of the 90s will become classic and perhaps remembered shines brighter than ever. While a band like The Fray, in the foreground of mainstream, is echoing the mid-90's pop rock that satisfied even the most yuppie of listeners a decade ago, another band like Silversun Pickups is making dirty saw-toothed guitars and gritty vocals hip again, using their somewhat nostalgic sound to shift the perspective of a rather large indie music scene. As far as the creations of retrospective art goes, you either have to stick to classics and present it to the right audience, or you have to recreate the art itself -update it, in a sense.

Morgue City are from Texas, and you can hear it. The slow grinding guitars hit as hard as the "Southern metalcore" that has become so trendy in the last few years, but Morgue City sound closer akin to 90's grunge, like a heavier and more abstract Soundgarden. That's right, this is one of the dirtiest, grittiest, darkest albums that could be loosely defined as hard rock. Ultimately, it's the punk nuances, programmed beats and snippets of field recordings, which show up a few times throughout the album, that keep this band from sounding stale.

There's a certain agony in singer Matthew Roberts' voice as the opener 'Bulletproof' grinds like a set of slow gears, that tells you - if the band name and album title didn't already - that this album is nowhere near being an uplifting experience. His vocals are belted shamelessly, bending between notes in desperate attempt to express his morose mood, often somewhat psychedelic. Along with bite-back guitars and a sturdy set of drum patterns, this makes for quite the dark display of soul and represents the album a whole. It may not be "soulless," but it is indeed heartless.

The topics and sound do lighten up briefly through the album. 'The River' decidedly tells the story of a child being abandoned by a family and the lasting effect it has. It's left at brief scenario description, rather than lashing out. 'Not Too Late' is a pop-tinged ballad seemingly about changing a point of view, and leads into the instrumental title track 'Soulless.' In contrast with the most adrenaline-steeped track on the album, 'Where's The Disco At?,' which also happens to be equal parts "fuck you" and "Texas pride," the aforementioned tracks are calm and easily digested.

Perhaps the downcast perspective on all things life is what characterizes the band, but the combined heap of angry subject matter and album artwork that consists of skulls, ripped hearts and a utility knife surrounded by extra blades appears too self-absorbed and driven by image. Musically, Morgue City sound fully developed and comfortable in themselves, but it sounds like they're held back by too much angst to progress into an ultimately enjoyable experience.