Just look at the name. This might be the epitome of overwrought, heart-on-sleeve Screamo. I Hate Myself were from Florida, and, having spent some time there myself, I can totally understand why they were so damned sad. These songs have everything. Slow, twinkly parts, soft sung vocals, buildups and finally those bursts of pained, screamed release. The lyrics deal with everything from girls to ghosts to Godzilla. One of the best records of the genre, this is not to be missed.