Metal is usually ignored or unfairly lambasted by mainstream music rags, and in the rare instances that these elitist publications drool over a metal band, it's usually either:
A) Altera-metal acts that give hipsters a stab at metal cred (Tool, Boris, System of a Down)
B) Pioneers whose influence and relevance are now too great to be ignored (Black Sabbath, Motörhead, Metallica)
C) Not really metal (The Darkness, Wolfmother, Avenged Sevenfold)
In the rare case of the critically-lauded Mastodon, as was apparent last May 17 at Roseland Ballroom, it's because they're that indisputably great.
This was my third time seeing Mastodon since last summer, and I'd unquestionably go again if they were to visit NYC again next month. Like former Relapse labelmates High on Fire, Mastodon champion huge riffs, abstract lyrics, and mind-melting time signature changes over the anger and angst favored by their peers. It's no surprise that their live shows are such a blast, besides the fact their their repertoire includes three of the best albums of the decade (especially Leviathan). Few artists have so much fun being so loud, and Mastodon, who hail from Georgia but should probably be from Europe, are one of the most enjoyably aggressive metal bands since Iron Maiden and Motörhead.
Roseland is a much bigger venue than the ones Mastodon play, and it was none too crowded. Perhaps some booking agent believed that since they were co-headlining with political punks Against Me, two different fanbases would show up to fill out the venue. Against Me's set was not as good as early Rancid and much better than newer Rancid, and when it ended nearly the entire front row cleared out while the kids in Meshuggah and Dillinger Escape Plan shirts piled on to the front.
Mastodon wasted no time in erupting into "Iron Tusk" as soon as they took the stage, and for the rest of the night the band said almost nothing to the audience, rather annihilating them predominately drawn from their latest release, Blood Mountain, which is awesome in every sense of the word. It is to Mastodon's credit (and Against Me's as well) that they didn't change their sound at all in an attempt to win over their co-headliners' audience. Whether sharing a stage with Slayer/Lamb of God, Converge, or Against Me, Mastodon does what they do best, maybe better than anyone--play epic, hard-hitting, uncompromising metal.
The band has a monolithic stage presence, and throughout the night they enjoyed arena rock stage poses (playing behind the back, etc.) that were never forced or ironic. Metal may be the best thing in the world for misery and aggression, but Mastodon remind us that it's also great music to rock out to. Their compositions are too elaborate to be Rob Zombie-esque trash metal (try headbanging to Mastodon--the time signature changes will throw you off) and their lyrics are too abstract to be a party band, therefore the enjoyment Mastodon generates stems from the fact that their music and live shows rock.
Mastodon's set was too short, although that's to be expected when their sharing headlining status, and they could afford to change up the order of the set list a little more, but they packed in as many songs as possible in a short amount of time. Barburners like 'The Wolf is Loose,' 'March of the Fire Ants,' and 'Bladecatcher,' the latter of which may be the most melodic noise rock song ever, all showed the band in top form. The Moby Dick-themed crusher 'Blood & Thunder' was, as always, a potent end to the show and any debate over who was the best band on the bill. Bow down or run for cover--this is the decade of the Mastodon.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Ozzy Will Always be Great, Even if His New Album Isn’t
Ozzy Osbourne is the greatest frontman, if not the greatest figure, in metal history.
Go ahead, tell yourself that Tony Iommi was the brains behind Ozzy’s band which single-handedly founded the genre of metal music. Tell yourself that Ozzy’s solo records were only as good as Randy Rhoads and Zakk Wylde made them, or as bad as Jake E. Lee made them. And tell yourself that Ozzy is a joke nowadays; a bumbling, bewildered rock institution run by his business-minded wife and overexposed kids.
Truth is that Ozzy is the rarest kind of genius, the kind Richard Hell spoke of in his comparison of Wittgenstein and Elvis. Ozzy’s brilliance is something he was born with—that inimitable banshee wail of a voice, the larger than life, alternately lovable and terrifying stage persona, and the horde of excessive rock lifestyle stories that even made Mötley Crüe members uncomfortable. Rhoads, Wylde, and especially Iommi are three of the most accomplished musicians in metal history, and no one can debate their respective places in the music world, but compared to Ozzy, their brilliance seems almost accessible. Someone who spends 10 hours a day shredding on their Gibson Les Paul could plausibly take a sideman position next to the Ozzman, but no sort of practice can attain a genius like Ozzy’s. It’s just there.
The way Ozzy’s perceived today by the general public also stands as part of his brilliance. Far more articulate and intelligent than most people believe him to be, Ozzy was never oblivious to the buffoonish persona ‘The Osbournes’ made him out to be. Unlike the self-conscious demon worshippers who spend more times trying to shock audiences and rack up record sales than write a good song, Ozzy does not care what you think of him. And this is positively what makes him badass—it doesn’t matter to him that he’s perceived as the Prince of Darkness or PMRC Enemy No. 1. How the world views him is not his problem—Ozzy has one of the greatest bodies of work in music history and a loving, supportive family, and approaching his 60th birthday, he can still rock harder than most guys in their 20s.
All that being said, Ozzy’s newest album, Black Rain, is just alright.
Black Rain sees Ozzy’s asserting his relevance (as if he needed to!) on the first two tracks, the plodding ‘Not Going Away’ and the first single, the mega-riffed ‘I Don’t Want to Stop.’ Halfway through the next song, the politically charged title track, it sounds like Ozzy’s made his best record since No More Tears. Then comes ‘Lay Your World on Me,’ a horribly overproduced power ballad with lyrics that even modern day Aerosmith would find sappy. The next time Wylde calls out Metallica or Pearl Jam for wussing out, he should remember he partook on this song.
Elsewhere, Ozzy and Zakk Wylde use their distinct, unmatched talents to make even forgettable material sound good, but by the time the time the record ends you’ll hope the first three songs are on Ozzy’s next ‘best-of.’
Inconsistency has always been a factor in Ozzy’s solo career; Ozzy himself is first to admit it. Like most of the greatest, risk-taking artists, including Elvis, Prince, and Johnny Cash, Ozzy’s released his share of crap, especially the late-80s disasters which preceded his finest solo outing, the electrifying No More Tears. Since then, his records have ranged from great to mediocre, and Black Rain fits into the latter category. It’s not awful or even bad by any means, but it doesn’t live up to the standard set by the slew of great albums, singles, and live shows Ozzy’s given us.
I’ve written much more about Ozzy than I have about Black Rain because there’s more to say one of the world’s most fascinating entertainers than his unremarkable new release. However, this is Ozzy we’re talking about, who rebounded from Technical Ecstasy with Blizzard of Ozz, and survived the Ultimate Sin to bring us No More Tears. As with all legends, we can never count him out, and as long as we’re lucky to have him alive, it will be a pleasure to hear the next set of debauchery he inflicts on the world.
Go ahead, tell yourself that Tony Iommi was the brains behind Ozzy’s band which single-handedly founded the genre of metal music. Tell yourself that Ozzy’s solo records were only as good as Randy Rhoads and Zakk Wylde made them, or as bad as Jake E. Lee made them. And tell yourself that Ozzy is a joke nowadays; a bumbling, bewildered rock institution run by his business-minded wife and overexposed kids.
Truth is that Ozzy is the rarest kind of genius, the kind Richard Hell spoke of in his comparison of Wittgenstein and Elvis. Ozzy’s brilliance is something he was born with—that inimitable banshee wail of a voice, the larger than life, alternately lovable and terrifying stage persona, and the horde of excessive rock lifestyle stories that even made Mötley Crüe members uncomfortable. Rhoads, Wylde, and especially Iommi are three of the most accomplished musicians in metal history, and no one can debate their respective places in the music world, but compared to Ozzy, their brilliance seems almost accessible. Someone who spends 10 hours a day shredding on their Gibson Les Paul could plausibly take a sideman position next to the Ozzman, but no sort of practice can attain a genius like Ozzy’s. It’s just there.
The way Ozzy’s perceived today by the general public also stands as part of his brilliance. Far more articulate and intelligent than most people believe him to be, Ozzy was never oblivious to the buffoonish persona ‘The Osbournes’ made him out to be. Unlike the self-conscious demon worshippers who spend more times trying to shock audiences and rack up record sales than write a good song, Ozzy does not care what you think of him. And this is positively what makes him badass—it doesn’t matter to him that he’s perceived as the Prince of Darkness or PMRC Enemy No. 1. How the world views him is not his problem—Ozzy has one of the greatest bodies of work in music history and a loving, supportive family, and approaching his 60th birthday, he can still rock harder than most guys in their 20s.
All that being said, Ozzy’s newest album, Black Rain, is just alright.
Black Rain sees Ozzy’s asserting his relevance (as if he needed to!) on the first two tracks, the plodding ‘Not Going Away’ and the first single, the mega-riffed ‘I Don’t Want to Stop.’ Halfway through the next song, the politically charged title track, it sounds like Ozzy’s made his best record since No More Tears. Then comes ‘Lay Your World on Me,’ a horribly overproduced power ballad with lyrics that even modern day Aerosmith would find sappy. The next time Wylde calls out Metallica or Pearl Jam for wussing out, he should remember he partook on this song.
Elsewhere, Ozzy and Zakk Wylde use their distinct, unmatched talents to make even forgettable material sound good, but by the time the time the record ends you’ll hope the first three songs are on Ozzy’s next ‘best-of.’
Inconsistency has always been a factor in Ozzy’s solo career; Ozzy himself is first to admit it. Like most of the greatest, risk-taking artists, including Elvis, Prince, and Johnny Cash, Ozzy’s released his share of crap, especially the late-80s disasters which preceded his finest solo outing, the electrifying No More Tears. Since then, his records have ranged from great to mediocre, and Black Rain fits into the latter category. It’s not awful or even bad by any means, but it doesn’t live up to the standard set by the slew of great albums, singles, and live shows Ozzy’s given us.
I’ve written much more about Ozzy than I have about Black Rain because there’s more to say one of the world’s most fascinating entertainers than his unremarkable new release. However, this is Ozzy we’re talking about, who rebounded from Technical Ecstasy with Blizzard of Ozz, and survived the Ultimate Sin to bring us No More Tears. As with all legends, we can never count him out, and as long as we’re lucky to have him alive, it will be a pleasure to hear the next set of debauchery he inflicts on the world.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Megadeth: "This IS the news!"
Megadeth leader Dave Mustaine has always been one of metal’s most controversial figures. Known to some as the Guitar God/songwriter behind one of the best, most influential, and most socially conscious metal bands of all time, he's also widely known as the nasally-voiced, sharp-tongued band-dictator whose thrash project was never as good as the one he was kicked out of in 1983. There’s some truth to all the aforementioned arguments, but everyone can agree that Mustaine is a survivor.
He overcame a violent childhood and years of heavy substance abuse, outlasted hair metal, rap-rock, and nu metal by sticking to his guns, and most recently knocked out one of Megadeth’s best albums (2004’s incendiary The System Has Failed) in the face of a career threatening injury, a complete lineup and label change, and 10 years of average to sucky records. Since then, he’s been on quite a winning streak, organizing a first-rate annual metal tour (The Gigantour, which trumps the bogged-down Ozzfest, Hot Topic-peons Sounds of the Underground, and the toothless Family Values in both ticket prices and quality bands), signing with Roadrunner, and saving the cartoon universe from aliens with a scorching live performance.
Megadeth’s newest, United Abominations, doesn’t quite surpass The System Has Failed, but it’s an engaging, powerful statement that proves Mustaine and his all-new band (Glenn and Shawn Drover, James LoMenzo) are all on the right track. Think Desire after Blood on the Tracks. Like Ministry, Machine Head, and Nine Inch Nails, Megadeth sounds revitalized by the current state of the union, and the most politically-minded figure in the big four of thrash is in top form on United Abominations. Penelope Spheeris’ assertion that “Dave Mustaine took on the weight of the world and made us all feel better for it,” has never held so true.
“No one is safe when I close my eyes,” roars Mustaine in the blistering opener, “Sleepwalker,” whose enraged narrator suppresses the murderous instincts that dominate his mind. Never again on the record do the band demonstrate such restraint—the next track, “Washington is Next!”, is even better, a belligerent stab at our nation's leaders set to biblical metaphors and blazing guitar solos. Mustaine’s songs get a kick in the ass from the band; Glenn Drover trades solos with Mustaine almost excessively and always enjoyably, and the rhythm section changes speed enough make sure the songs don't fall into the more conventional structures that had been dooming Megadeth’s music in the second half of the ‘90s. No sign of Risk here—“You’re Dead” and “Pay for Blood” hit like a high-speed crash, and the closer “Burnt Ice” ensures that this is Megadeth’s angriest record in years, leaving listeners to wonder if the whole thing was just a nightmare. I hope it wasn’t.
United Abominations is not perfect—the radio-friendly remake of “A Tout Le Monde” featuring Christina Scabbia is the biggest mistake Mustaine’s made since suing Dave Ellefson. In fairness, it’s still a great song; Mustaine and Scabbia’s voices contrast nicely, and it’s good to hear the Lacuna Coil frontwoman sing on a track far worthier of her voice than anything I’ve heard from her mediocre band. However, it’s still frustrating to see Megadeth tread water and waste disc space by covering a song they released 13 years ago, especially when it replaces the cover originally intended for the disc, a Dethed-up version of Zeppelin’s “Out on the Tiles.”
But these gripes are minor. The world should be thankful that Megadeth are releasing strong, relevant music that outshines most rock being released nowadays. Record-buyers may flock to the newest Linkin Park record, also released last Tuesday, but there’s no doubt as to who made the bolder, more focused, and (just as important) louder record.
He overcame a violent childhood and years of heavy substance abuse, outlasted hair metal, rap-rock, and nu metal by sticking to his guns, and most recently knocked out one of Megadeth’s best albums (2004’s incendiary The System Has Failed) in the face of a career threatening injury, a complete lineup and label change, and 10 years of average to sucky records. Since then, he’s been on quite a winning streak, organizing a first-rate annual metal tour (The Gigantour, which trumps the bogged-down Ozzfest, Hot Topic-peons Sounds of the Underground, and the toothless Family Values in both ticket prices and quality bands), signing with Roadrunner, and saving the cartoon universe from aliens with a scorching live performance.
Megadeth’s newest, United Abominations, doesn’t quite surpass The System Has Failed, but it’s an engaging, powerful statement that proves Mustaine and his all-new band (Glenn and Shawn Drover, James LoMenzo) are all on the right track. Think Desire after Blood on the Tracks. Like Ministry, Machine Head, and Nine Inch Nails, Megadeth sounds revitalized by the current state of the union, and the most politically-minded figure in the big four of thrash is in top form on United Abominations. Penelope Spheeris’ assertion that “Dave Mustaine took on the weight of the world and made us all feel better for it,” has never held so true.
“No one is safe when I close my eyes,” roars Mustaine in the blistering opener, “Sleepwalker,” whose enraged narrator suppresses the murderous instincts that dominate his mind. Never again on the record do the band demonstrate such restraint—the next track, “Washington is Next!”, is even better, a belligerent stab at our nation's leaders set to biblical metaphors and blazing guitar solos. Mustaine’s songs get a kick in the ass from the band; Glenn Drover trades solos with Mustaine almost excessively and always enjoyably, and the rhythm section changes speed enough make sure the songs don't fall into the more conventional structures that had been dooming Megadeth’s music in the second half of the ‘90s. No sign of Risk here—“You’re Dead” and “Pay for Blood” hit like a high-speed crash, and the closer “Burnt Ice” ensures that this is Megadeth’s angriest record in years, leaving listeners to wonder if the whole thing was just a nightmare. I hope it wasn’t.
United Abominations is not perfect—the radio-friendly remake of “A Tout Le Monde” featuring Christina Scabbia is the biggest mistake Mustaine’s made since suing Dave Ellefson. In fairness, it’s still a great song; Mustaine and Scabbia’s voices contrast nicely, and it’s good to hear the Lacuna Coil frontwoman sing on a track far worthier of her voice than anything I’ve heard from her mediocre band. However, it’s still frustrating to see Megadeth tread water and waste disc space by covering a song they released 13 years ago, especially when it replaces the cover originally intended for the disc, a Dethed-up version of Zeppelin’s “Out on the Tiles.”
But these gripes are minor. The world should be thankful that Megadeth are releasing strong, relevant music that outshines most rock being released nowadays. Record-buyers may flock to the newest Linkin Park record, also released last Tuesday, but there’s no doubt as to who made the bolder, more focused, and (just as important) louder record.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Dimmu Borgir Will Tear You Apart
Norwegian metal Gods Dimmu Borgir have been one of the best black metal bands in the world for years, releasing several great studio albums over the past decade and enjoying surprising commercial success for a band of their intensity. Dimmu's live performances, as demonstrated last April 26 at the Nokia Theatre, are enjoyably over the top; symphonic without being overblown, campy without being gimmicky, and musically intricate without being convoluted. The Nokia show featured three relatively good opening acts, but there was never any doubt as to which band owned the evening.
Kataklysm started things up nicely, playing a solid set of death metal that needed no bells or whistles. Their spirited, confident performance displayed a band in no fear of being overwhelmed by the headliners or linked to the their feud with the band about to take the stage after them, and I look forward to seeing these guys on other metal bills. If anything, they proved that Canada has better metal to offer than Kittie.
Devildriver were next onstage, and their performance was unexpectedly engaging for a band that featured Dez Fafara, whose forgettable previous band made it big on a song that was written by Peter Gabriel and featured vocals by Ozzy Osbourne. Here Fafara was given a thrash metal makeover which served him better than his previous band’s gothic nu metal, and if his Phil Anselmo-esque barking (“Anyone who’s not in the mosh pit right now is a fucking pussy!”) wasn’t anything new, it suited his derivative but enjoyable new band.
Like the first two bands on the bill, metalcore heroes Unearth were an odd choice to take the stage before Dimmu Borgir. But having just come off a tour with Slayer, the band knew how to win over a shrewd metal audience anticipating the more renowned headliners, and their vigorous, crowd-baiting set saved them from the boos a lesser band would have received (see Trivium opening for Lamb of God). Unearth made full use of the stage, jumping off the drum riser and running into each other with an energy too rarely seen in modern rock music, and I hope the band manages to conjure the same energy on record. I'll be especially interested to hear what they come up with now that Strapping Young Lad drummer Gene Hoglan has jumped onboard.
Dimmu Borgir finally emerged from behind a black curtain and launched into "Progenies of the Grand Apocalypse," off of 2003's fantastic Death Cult Armageddon. Decked out in spikes, leather, and face paint, Dimmu were a sight to see, but the rabid fans barely had a chance to digest all this while the band barreled through their set, heavy on Death Cult and more recent album tracks, and featuring little from their excellent new release, In Sorte Diaboli. They did play Diaboli's excellent first single, the epic "Serpentine Offering," which features an orchestrated opening, pummeling double bass drums, traded vocals between screamer Shagrath and melodic vocalist/bassist ICS Vortex, and an absolutely amazing lyrical rejoinder ("I am hatred, darkness, and despair!") If it ain't broke...
Decked out in spikes, leather, and face paint, Dimmu are too campy to be genuinely scary, but never campy enough to not be taken seriously. Their performance never fell prey to bombast or self-parody, and the band's ardently-performed, multi-part compositions couple a certain beauty with their aggression and campiness. If Dimmu Borgir were a filmmaker, they would probably be Dario Argento.
Dimmu's set was relatively short, culminating with an absolutely mind-blowing rendition of "Mourning Palace," but my guess is that no one left thinking they didn't get their money's worth, or that any of that Dimmu had been upset by any of the openers. Dimmu guitarist Silenoz recently stated that he "wouldn't mind touring with a band like Marilyn Manson," and if Dimmu's Nokia show were any indication, such a tour would see Silenoz's band outshining the most infamous performer in rock today.
If you weren't already convinced how sweet this show was, check out these photos at Piercingmetal.com.
Kataklysm started things up nicely, playing a solid set of death metal that needed no bells or whistles. Their spirited, confident performance displayed a band in no fear of being overwhelmed by the headliners or linked to the their feud with the band about to take the stage after them, and I look forward to seeing these guys on other metal bills. If anything, they proved that Canada has better metal to offer than Kittie.
Devildriver were next onstage, and their performance was unexpectedly engaging for a band that featured Dez Fafara, whose forgettable previous band made it big on a song that was written by Peter Gabriel and featured vocals by Ozzy Osbourne. Here Fafara was given a thrash metal makeover which served him better than his previous band’s gothic nu metal, and if his Phil Anselmo-esque barking (“Anyone who’s not in the mosh pit right now is a fucking pussy!”) wasn’t anything new, it suited his derivative but enjoyable new band.
Like the first two bands on the bill, metalcore heroes Unearth were an odd choice to take the stage before Dimmu Borgir. But having just come off a tour with Slayer, the band knew how to win over a shrewd metal audience anticipating the more renowned headliners, and their vigorous, crowd-baiting set saved them from the boos a lesser band would have received (see Trivium opening for Lamb of God). Unearth made full use of the stage, jumping off the drum riser and running into each other with an energy too rarely seen in modern rock music, and I hope the band manages to conjure the same energy on record. I'll be especially interested to hear what they come up with now that Strapping Young Lad drummer Gene Hoglan has jumped onboard.
Dimmu Borgir finally emerged from behind a black curtain and launched into "Progenies of the Grand Apocalypse," off of 2003's fantastic Death Cult Armageddon. Decked out in spikes, leather, and face paint, Dimmu were a sight to see, but the rabid fans barely had a chance to digest all this while the band barreled through their set, heavy on Death Cult and more recent album tracks, and featuring little from their excellent new release, In Sorte Diaboli. They did play Diaboli's excellent first single, the epic "Serpentine Offering," which features an orchestrated opening, pummeling double bass drums, traded vocals between screamer Shagrath and melodic vocalist/bassist ICS Vortex, and an absolutely amazing lyrical rejoinder ("I am hatred, darkness, and despair!") If it ain't broke...
Decked out in spikes, leather, and face paint, Dimmu are too campy to be genuinely scary, but never campy enough to not be taken seriously. Their performance never fell prey to bombast or self-parody, and the band's ardently-performed, multi-part compositions couple a certain beauty with their aggression and campiness. If Dimmu Borgir were a filmmaker, they would probably be Dario Argento.
Dimmu's set was relatively short, culminating with an absolutely mind-blowing rendition of "Mourning Palace," but my guess is that no one left thinking they didn't get their money's worth, or that any of that Dimmu had been upset by any of the openers. Dimmu guitarist Silenoz recently stated that he "wouldn't mind touring with a band like Marilyn Manson," and if Dimmu's Nokia show were any indication, such a tour would see Silenoz's band outshining the most infamous performer in rock today.
If you weren't already convinced how sweet this show was, check out these photos at Piercingmetal.com.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Remember 'Year Zero' in Your 2007 Top Ten Lists
Nine Inch Nails’ last album, With Teeth, was a return to form, and that’s exactly what was wrong with it. With Teeth would be a standout record for any other industrial band not featuring Al Jourgensen, but for Trent Reznor it was the inevitable step sideways from an artist who had previously taken tremendous steps forward with every release. Consistent songwise but never revelatory, it threw Reznor back into the game after a six-year absence, right where he left off with his 1999 masterpiece, The Fragile. In hindsight, it looks as if he was clearing his throat for the stunning, confrontational Year Zero.
Year Zero has garnered attention for its creative ad campaign, which has included secret messages, videos, and sound clips all over the internet, each giving vague clues to the album's concept and as much a part of a greater project as the album itself. However, this is no marketing gimmick from an artist trying to push an average album which can’t garner sales otherwise. The music itself overshadows the hype surrounding Year Zero, and this is the last time you’ll see that mentioned here.
Musically, Year Zero is perhaps Reznor’s most personal record, sounding more like the guy who covered Joy Division and Gary Numan than the guy who may have sang the best Black Sabbath cover ever, and featuring only two songs that include instruments other than his computer. The music's intimate arrangements conjure up a sense of the struggle to maintain free thought in the face of an invasive government, and the songs themselves are intricate, unpredictable, and even catchy. Critics who believe Reznor's studio wizardry disguises mediocre songwriting (and somehow missed Johnny Cash's bare-bones rendition of Hurt) would adore "The Warning" if it were by Radiohead and "The Greater Good" if it were by Tom Waits, and would hard-pressed to not headbang to "The Vessel" or "God Given."
Lyrically it’s also a very personal record, unsurprising for a guy who put the “I” in "Industrial," giving a first person voice to a famously inhuman genre. He may not be singing about deep inner angst, but his introspective, self-examining mind allows him to fully grasp the horror in a world of anonymous citizens with no say in a totalitarian empire. “Shame on us, doomed from the start, may God have mercy on our dirty little hearts. Shame on us, for all we’ve done, and all we ever were, just zeroes and ones,” drones Reznor in the closer, “Zero-Sum,” managing to convey a computerized society and George W. Bush’s infamous “Shame on You” gaffe in the same verse. Reznor should also be commended for addressing the complacency of the American people as much as the leaders themselves--it is, after all, our fault for electing them and letting them get away with what they do.
Reznor’s lyrics have created an entire world not too dissimilar from the one we live in. The world in Year Zero is never black and white, as seen in the self-questioning narrator of "The Good Soldier," and is alternately terrifying ("Survivalism") and eerily calming ("Another Version of the Truth.") Thankfully, Reznor is specific enough to spark interest and incite debate, yet never to the point where the record will sound dated in a few years (see Regan Youth). Some critics have decided that the antagonist of “Capital G” (I pushed a button and elected him to office…I’m sick of hearing ‘bout the haves and the have-nots…he signs his name with a capital G) is our nation’s current leader. I think the aforementioned antagonist believes he is (and therefore shares a three-letter first name with) the Supreme Being. He never says, "My name has a capital G," it's just the one he uses. These sort of arguments over the album’s meaning just amplify its significance.
Reznor turns 42 this month, and has made his first-ever record to address the state of the world more than his own inner conflicts. It's not going to replace The Fragile or The Downward Spiral as his best record ever, but it's the most focused, least adolescent music he's ever made, and we are all the better for it.
Year Zero has garnered attention for its creative ad campaign, which has included secret messages, videos, and sound clips all over the internet, each giving vague clues to the album's concept and as much a part of a greater project as the album itself. However, this is no marketing gimmick from an artist trying to push an average album which can’t garner sales otherwise. The music itself overshadows the hype surrounding Year Zero, and this is the last time you’ll see that mentioned here.
Musically, Year Zero is perhaps Reznor’s most personal record, sounding more like the guy who covered Joy Division and Gary Numan than the guy who may have sang the best Black Sabbath cover ever, and featuring only two songs that include instruments other than his computer. The music's intimate arrangements conjure up a sense of the struggle to maintain free thought in the face of an invasive government, and the songs themselves are intricate, unpredictable, and even catchy. Critics who believe Reznor's studio wizardry disguises mediocre songwriting (and somehow missed Johnny Cash's bare-bones rendition of Hurt) would adore "The Warning" if it were by Radiohead and "The Greater Good" if it were by Tom Waits, and would hard-pressed to not headbang to "The Vessel" or "God Given."
Lyrically it’s also a very personal record, unsurprising for a guy who put the “I” in "Industrial," giving a first person voice to a famously inhuman genre. He may not be singing about deep inner angst, but his introspective, self-examining mind allows him to fully grasp the horror in a world of anonymous citizens with no say in a totalitarian empire. “Shame on us, doomed from the start, may God have mercy on our dirty little hearts. Shame on us, for all we’ve done, and all we ever were, just zeroes and ones,” drones Reznor in the closer, “Zero-Sum,” managing to convey a computerized society and George W. Bush’s infamous “Shame on You” gaffe in the same verse. Reznor should also be commended for addressing the complacency of the American people as much as the leaders themselves--it is, after all, our fault for electing them and letting them get away with what they do.
Reznor’s lyrics have created an entire world not too dissimilar from the one we live in. The world in Year Zero is never black and white, as seen in the self-questioning narrator of "The Good Soldier," and is alternately terrifying ("Survivalism") and eerily calming ("Another Version of the Truth.") Thankfully, Reznor is specific enough to spark interest and incite debate, yet never to the point where the record will sound dated in a few years (see Regan Youth). Some critics have decided that the antagonist of “Capital G” (I pushed a button and elected him to office…I’m sick of hearing ‘bout the haves and the have-nots…he signs his name with a capital G) is our nation’s current leader. I think the aforementioned antagonist believes he is (and therefore shares a three-letter first name with) the Supreme Being. He never says, "My name has a capital G," it's just the one he uses. These sort of arguments over the album’s meaning just amplify its significance.
Reznor turns 42 this month, and has made his first-ever record to address the state of the world more than his own inner conflicts. It's not going to replace The Fragile or The Downward Spiral as his best record ever, but it's the most focused, least adolescent music he's ever made, and we are all the better for it.
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