There's a song entitled "Pure Love," that country-pop star Ronnie Milsap made famous in the 1980s, and continues to sing to this day. It's a song that begins with Milsap singing, "Pure love, baby it's pure love/Milk and honey and Cap'n Crunch and you in the morning/Pure love baby it's pure love/Ninety-nine and forty-four one hundreds percent pure love" - comparing the feeling of love to a sugary children's cereal and a bar of Ivory soap. It's a contrast to the UK-based band Pure Love and all the love that they sing about. There's nothing witty or tongue-in-cheek about the emotions that former Gallows singer Frank Carter and former Hope Conspiracy guitarist Jim Carroll sing about on their debut album. It's a significant departure from Carter's former work, but the effect is just as electrifying. He sings about love as a wildfire, as a raging inferno gone mostly out of control. They are nights that are doused completely in gasoline, with more thrown on the flames every few minutes - two people not able to get enough of each other, for better or for worse. He's willing to be an animal, if that's what she wants. The effect that this particular woman's eyes can have on him is more powerful than a detonation. It feels like it's almost too much to take. There's no need for a furnace or a fireplace during any of the winters that they spend together. The love burns madly and yet, these aren't happy-ending songs. You get the feeling that somehow the tires are going to fall off of this passionate exchange. It's just a matter of time and no one's going to get too comfortable in it. This kind of unhinged love has happened before and there's an apprehension that this is just another one like the others, because what love doesn't begin like something unsustainable? Fires of love oddly do become immune to gasoline and then that's when the shit creeps in. That's when the weeds take over and the winters turn back to normal.