Automatic Fire hails from Philadelphia, but don’t expect them to dole out brotherly love willy-nilly. As a matter of fact, the four-piece rock band is more inclined to rip you a new one. On the sexy and stylish Cuts Both Ways singer Walt Lafty roars I tried to meet you half way but you shoved it back in my face over a crescendo of guitars and the low glug of bass. The World is no less forgiving. A blistering caveat, the track hones its metal edge on spooky guitar effects. Lafty can loosen a delicious croon from his pipes, but more often he uses them to belt out his ire. On Whipping Boy he sneers, I’m not your Gandhi, here to save the land / I’m more like Pilate, watch me wash you from my hands. And you probably can guess what happens to the title characters of the hair-metalish rocker, Snitches. Yup, stitches. With instruments that cut gashes and lyrics that pour in the salt, Automatic Fire may sting like a bitch, but the pain is worth the pleasure.