It's easy to get hung up on album opener "Infected." The message is vague, yet it rages with virtue and sin, paranoia and injustice, all of which certainly feel insistent and genuine. Could not a kid just back from Afghanistan relate to Paul McCoy when he howls, "It's systematic/ Living in this haze/ Sleeping on a live grenade/ Blacked out, face down, no sound/ We're blowing up this place"? After the potent start, Beneath the Scars eases into gooey grunge-ballad mode. But hey, you'd also be drained after pouring all your blood, guts and fury into a single anthem.