Ah, to be 18 again — if only for metalcore. The genre, that hardcore-informed (and deformed) heavy-metal mutant, makes its hard-rock and punk parentage sound positively polite. Brits Bring Me the Horizon are on the commercial end of the genre's inherently extreme sonic spectrum, meaning there are actual discernible refrains and intelligible lyrics amidst the trapped-gnat guitars, fistfight beats and symphonic pretensions. But BMTH's message remains apparently untargeted adolescent wrath, gotten across by churning instrumentation and Oli Sykes' diaphragm-dwelling utterances, which are much more about tone than content. Nothing yells “generation gap” like this.

Fri., Sept. 2, 6 p.m., 2011

LA Weekly