Many believed Slaves On Dope had gone the way of the buffalo after their parting of ways with the Osbourne's Divine imprint, and for all intents and purposes one had every reason to make such assumptions. The group found themselves at a crossroads musically. Less than satisfied with their treatment by the esteemed metal family, they took some time to regroup, searching for what they wanted out of their musical abilities. After holing away to work on new material that would revive the group's lagging alternative metal slant, the band has returned with a new label and a new direction.

"Metafour" is saturated with penetrating snarls and murky guitar crunch, discarding the intense, visceral approach found on "Inches From The Mainline" for a more commercial rage, and yet these oily rags never quite seem to ignite. It's as if the group took sandpaper to their searing, metallic sound and unveiled a duller, less invigorating conglomeration of drawn out sludge rock and emotional turmoil in the process. This faux passion exposes Slaves On Dope's weaknesses as songwriters, pushing forth tracks that never reveal the growth this band should have undergone during their hiatus. Jason Rockman's nasal vocals often recall Filter's Richard Patrick, yet lack the charm or atmospheric impact necessary to carry a song. Meanwhile, the group's bitterness toward an industry that spurned them is all too apparent, bogging down the majority of this disc with a snide indifference. How can one be blamed for not caring when the band themselves reflect such attitudes through their music? Despite such estranged leanings permeating this effort, "Go" and "Casualty Of Me" seem unscathed by the mediocrity surrounding them, somehow standing out from the cesspool they are wallowing amidst.

Slaves On Dope have never been a group that stood out for their blazing originality, yet they did have heart on their previous affairs. "Metafour" on the other hand is an album drenched with cliches and all too familiar rhetoric, leaving it feeling feel dated and washed up. Whether they mold aggro thrashers ala Godsmack, spirited rockers ala Saliva and even a never-ending sob-fest reminiscent of early Korn, ("Caffeine Love Affair"), nothing seems to stick. Anything that once made this band intriguing has faded into the background, as the metallic fervor and raw, bleeding vocals are now transparent, making way for repetitive melodies and turgid guitar riffage. The time spent out of the public eye has not reinforced Slaves On Dope's determination, and rather than feeling refreshed "Metafour" feels like nothing more then regurgitated nu-metal barely keeping itself afloat off from it's own bloated self-importance.