The Trouble with Rick Rubin

Rick Rubin is probably the best-known rock producer in the world, and people still don't realize how incredible his impact has been. Founding Def Jam records was pivotal to the rise of rap, and while I'm not a hip hop expert, Rubin's work with LL Cool J, Run DMC, Beastie Boys, Public Enemy and more recently Jay-Z seems like some of the best stuff ever produced with two turntables and a microphone. The creative leap that he took the Red Hot Chili Peppers to on Blood Sugar Sex Magik is positively mind-boggling. Compare it to any other RHCP record, even the very best ones, for full effect.



Slayer have been more consistent and uncompromising than Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, or pretty much any other metal band in history, and they've employed Rubin's production skills since 1986. And speaking of creative leaps, compare Reign in Blood to Slayer's earlier work.



With System of a Down, he helped shape one of the most inventive mainstream rock acts in recent memory, and I recently (finally) realized that Tom Petty's best record is Wildflowers, helmed by the incomparable Rubin. Hell, I'm even glad that Rick Rubin made a record with the Dixie Chicks.

On the subject of country, there's no way to discuss Rubin's best music without mentioning Johnny Cash. Reinventing Cash as a weathered old badass with alt-rock cred was so effective that it convinced a generation of new fans that he was just as hardboiled during his '50s and '60s commercial peak. Truthfully, Johnny Cash was a tremendous artist with scores of great songs and an incalculable impact, but try getting through more than 30 minutes of any record he made without Rick Rubin or an audience of prisoners. Rick Rubin's ability to bring out the best in established artists is probably even more incredible than his knack for making great new bands sound even better.



There's the rub. Now that everyone knows how great Rick Rubin is, washed up and mediocre artists hire him to clean up their messes. Sure, he can make a Weezer record sound better than their last few disasters by stripping down their production or eliminating the gaps between songs to make a cohesive album, but of course he can't rescue them from the level of suckiness they've been reduced to post-Pinkerton. Keeping the MCing to a bare minimum on Linkin Park's newest travesty is a good thought, but it's not going to suddenly turn them into Nine Inch Nails. Or even Filter.

I've heard good things about his records with Mick Jagger and Neil Diamond, but from what I do know of both artists' solo careers (and it really pains me, since Jagger's possibly my all-time favorite frontman), I'm guessing that they enlisted Mr. Rubin to save them from their awful music. And don't get me started on Audioslave.

It's clear that Rick Rubin is an incredible figure in music, but as long as artists hire him to patch up their dismal work, he's going to have a lot of terrible music on his resume. Not that that takes away from the greatness of his earlier works, but it's frustrating to think he's wasting his time with Linkin Park when he could be using his talents for better projects. His records always sound good, but his brilliance is being buried by bad music.

Rubin doesn't seem to mind--I don't think he's worked with a new artist since System of a Down's debut 10 years ago--and it's good for him to push himself and see how far he can take an artist. But it's baffling that'd he'd waste his time with Wolfmother and Weezer when he could be producing music as great as this:















Rubin's biggest project this year is, of course, the new Metallica record. Both Rubin and Metallica have lately been taking huge artistic risks with mixed results, and at the very least, it'll be fascinating to see what they come up with.

Miss!

Somehow, I missed most of the big hard rock/metal shows that came to the NYC area in the past month. I'm not losing any sleep over missing Marilyn Manson, who charges an arm and a leg for tickets and hasn't released a listenable single since I saw him years ago. Say what you will about Manson, but he had some rockin' good tunes way back when.

Few hard rock artists have elicited as many strong opinions as Brian Warner, and most of them are wrong. Manson, his legions of devotees, and especially the Joe Liebermans and Ted Haggards of the world take his act way too seriously. While Manson's strongest detractors struggle to overlook his intellect and eloquence, even his least discerning fans know that he's often better in theory than in practice. But one thing that's for sure about Marilyn Manson is that he totally rocked on Mechanical Animals.

Antichrist Superstar is usually seen as his masterpiece, but the follow-up is far leaner, catchier, funnier, more inventive, and just better. Now that Manson no longer had to conquer the music world, he really indulged himself and came up with some great songs. Case in point: 'I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me).'



By all means, this song should totally suck. A jaded, decadent rock star writing seriously campy lyrics spoofs Bowie and comes up with the first-ever industrial funk song? The result is musically and lyrically edgier than most of Manson's biggest hits, as well as anything by Rammstein or Skinny Puppy.

I'm sorry to have missed High on Fire, although I did see them last fall and plan to again this spring--they really are that incredibly awesome. Spawned by guitarist Matt Pike shortly after the demise of his previous band, stoner metal icons Sleep (whose last album, Dopesmoker, is one 63-minute song), High on Fire are even louder and faster than Pike's other projects, complete with hooks, chops and stage energy that make them unquestionably one of the top metal bands of the decade. On Blessed Black Wings, they enlisted sonic legend Steve Albini to produce, digging out the rawness and excitement of their live shows after years of being buried by murky production. As far as I can tell, BBW is the best record produced by Albini that isn't named Surfer Rosa or In Utero.

When metalheads start debating the best metal tracks of the 21st century, anyone who doesn't include 'Devilution' is afraid of himself. Play this one as loud as you can...



Still, the show I'm really kicking myself over missing is Gibby Haynes' once-in-a-lifetime performance with Paul Green's School of Rock kids. I'm sure that the clips I've been watching on youtube can't begin to do it justice. The thought of missing one of the greatest, most eccentric iconoclasts in rock history teaming up with the polished professionals of the School of Rock (yes, the ones that played with Jon Anderson) is mildly unbearable, but thankfully one can take solace in some of Haynes' incredible music.

Most of the best Butthole Surfers songs don't have videos. I urge anyone with a working pair of ears to check out any of their albums up until the last one, with 'Lady Sniff,' 'Sweat Loaf,' 'Jimi,' 'The Ballad of Naked Man,' 'Creep in the Cellar' and 'Cough Syrup' being some favorite tracks off the top of my head. Still, they're amazingly consistent for such an unpolished, experimental bunch of acid-rockers, as the following songs prove:

"Who Was in My Room Last Night?" is like an acid-tripping acid trip.



"Pepper," the Surfers' only hit, is like their Straight Story--one of the darkest, weirdest thing they've recorded disguised as something unexpectedly straightforward. I like how the music sounds like Beck's 'Loser' and the lyrics recall 'Walk on the Wild Side' by Lou Reed, also the only charting hits by those artists.



Had the Butthole Surfers been solely a covers act, they still would've been awesome. Check out 'Underdog.'



Or even better, 'Hurdy Gurdy Man.'



But Gibby Haynes' greatest moment is arguably his collaboration with Ministry, 'Jesus Built My Hotrod.' Gibby spits out a scat that resembles (if anything) 'Surfin' Bird' roasted on a spit over Al Jourgensen's relentless wall of twangy industrial guitars. The result is a collaboration of great musical minds on the level of 'Walk this Way,' 'Under Pressure,' 'Bring the Noise,' and even the Mick Jagger-David Bowie remake of 'Dancing in the Streets.' Complete BS and somehow utterly brilliant, 'Jesus Built My Hotrod' one of the greatest rock songs ever committed to tape--and all that's left to do is ding-a-ding-dang-my-dangalong-ling-long.

Neurosis to the bone, no doubt about it

Mastodon's slot as the special guest openers for Neurosis at their two Brooklyn shows was a blessing and a curse for the headliners. In the past few years, Mastodon have clearly passed cult heroes Neurosis in popularity, and they did Oakland's post-metal pioneers a great favor by bringing a much wider audience to the sold-out shows at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple. But as with Nirvana, Metallica and other well-known acts who've opened for the underground artists that inspired them, Mastodon's attempts to pay tribute to the headliners were hurt by the fact that Mastodon soundly blew them away.


Listless starters US Christmas came and went without note, and the audience's chants of "Mastodon!" started only moments after the first act started packing up their gear. Kicking off with 'Hearts Alive,' the 14-minute pinnacle of 2004's Leviathan, it was clear that Mastodon were treating the fans to something unique. It would be unthinkable for a band to start off with a slow-building monster epic on some of the recent tours Mastodon's been playing--many fans of Against Me and even Converge wouldn't have the patience. But it was perfect showcase of timing and musicianship before Neurosis, whose slow-burn influence is in traces of the song, even more so than the Mastodon songs that actually feature Scott Kelly.

The rest of Mastodon's set was heavily focused on Blood Mountain, which the band probably wanted to get the most out of before their upcoming new album starts dominating their shows. The blazing 'The Wolf is Loose' and 'Circle of Cysquatch' threatened to pulverize the walls of the Brooklyn Masonic Temple, and lesser-played tracks like 'Heart of Stone' and 'Meglodon' reminded everyone that the deep cuts on Remission, Leviathan and Blood Mountain trample on the signature works over most metal bands in history. Guitarist Brent Hinds, sporting a Melvins t-shirt and enough facial tattoos to compete with Mike Tyson, mugged demoniacally while trading hooks and arena rock poses with bassist Troy Sanders, and the duo's shared vocals (Hinds is more melodic and Sanders is gruffer) underscored the band's character and versatility. Along with stoic rhythm ace Bill Kelliher, the trio worked frantically to not get buried under Brann Dailor's chaotic drum rolls and snare annihilation while a roomful of tightly-packed headbangers roared their approval.

By the time Mastodon ended their set with two standouts from Remission, 'Where Strides the Behemoth' and 'Mother Puncher,' I was wondering if their debut really was their best best album. More likely, the best Mastodon song is always the one currently pulverizing your eardrums, and when the Georgian metal gods waved goodbye and ran off stage, I was left with only one question. Is it too soon to give Mastodon the '00s the way that Pantera held the '90s, Metallica ruled the '80s, and Black Sabbath owned the '70s?


Neurosis are so widely imitated that it's often hard to hear how groundbreaking they were when they started. One of the only prominent bands to infuse metal with alt-rock in the early '90s, Neurosis' sonic innovations paved the way for Tool's prog elements, Isis' ambiance, Candiria's post-metal, Mastodon's math-thrash and countless drone-metal peasants who'd be unthinkable without 1996's astonishing Through Silver in Blood. But watching Neurosis follow-up Mastodon's unadulterated awesomeness, I began to wonder if Neurosis' contribution to metal had been superseded by newer artists.

Sabbath-worthy opener 'Given to the Rising,' the title track on Neurosis' new album, proved right off the bat that Neurosis are still the undisputed gods of psychedelic metal, and the chugging "Hidden Faces" unearthed a hypnotic stoner metal groove that built up into an overwhelming barrage of distortion. They never changed the pace from slow-grinding assaults of sludge metal, and they never had to, as gruff, hirsute guitarists Scott Kelly and Steve Von Till commanded all the crowds' attention by barely moving any muscles and somehow seeming like they were going to kill us all. Or at least explode our heads with the godzilla-riffed "Water is Not Enough" or the earth-shaking "Distill."

Neurosis' set featured no stage banter, no encore, minimal breaks between songs, and almost no songs written before 2004. Their uncompromising choices were admirable, and expected for such a groundbreaking act, but their one-chord drones and ceaseless measures of the same riff again and again were unable to capture the excitement and intensity that their openers carried.
After stretching out the ending feedback of "The Doorway" to a good five minutes, Neurosis walked offstage without acknowledging anything not related to the music all night. Awesome show, guys--next time, want to let Isis open up?

Check out some footage from the shows, with some interviews about the upcoming rekkid. They all have the same intro, but it's four different videos:

Political Metal: Super Tuesday Edition

On Megadeth's first album, Dave Mustaine ranted like a classic metal god, spewing tales of death, depravity, Satan, and sexual double entendres. But one year later he found a new nemesis in American politics.



The vitriolic title track to Peace Sells...But Who's Buying? was Megadeth's aesthetic breakthrough, the first proof that a thrash metal act could be as blunt and politically stirring as the Sex Pistols or Dead Kennedys. Over an urgent-sounding riff, Mustaine voiced the angry, disillusioned American who would be 'first in line' for 'a new way.' The father-son exchange at 2:20 in the song's video is a little dated, but it's also one of the most referenced, quoted and parodied moments in metal history.

A few years later, Mustaine was so deep in the throes of drug addiction and alcohol abuse that he could barely sing/play guitar at the same time, much less come up with a full album's worth of original material. But that didn't stop Megadeth from covering one of the greatest anti-establishment anthems of all time, which they set to a video with Gerald Scarfe-like cartoons of a gun-toting Ronald Reagan, a beastly Uncle Sam and other atrocities.

Part of what makes Dave Mustaine such a compelling spokesman is that he can't sing very well. Most metal singers still imitate either Rob Halford's operatics or Lemmy's growls, but Mustaine barks out his standpoint like the insubordinate son of Bob Dylan. Unlike most metal singers, there's usually no way to mishear what Dave Mustaine is saying.

On Countdown to Extinction, Megadeth simplified their music to be more palatable for rock radio, but their politics were sharper than ever. Their first big hit, 'Symphony of Destruction,' is a headbanger's retelling of All the King's Men.



The follow-up, 'Foreclosure of a Dream,' addressed Reaganomics and the crumbling economy, which had put bassist Dave Ellefson's Minnesota-farming family out of business. The song included a sample of the first President Bush's most famous utterance...



For better or worse, (and with Mustaine's increasingly conservative values, it may be worse), Megadeth's political forays go on to this day. The past year saw Dave Mustaine release his most political record to date, get chewed out by the UN Dispatch and make fun of Mike Huckabee's bass chops on 'Good Morning America.' But Megadeth's greatest political moment is still probably 'Holy Wars...the Punishment Due,' a now-standard metal anthem with speed and complexity that Meshuggah, Mastodon and the Dillinger Escape Plan all took note of.



The most harrowing take on the Israel-Palestine conflict ever set to music, 'Holy Wars' kicks off with Mustaine's infamous declaration, "Brother will kill brother/Spilling blood across the land" before decrying the warring parties, "Ask the sheep for their beliefs/Do you kill on God's command?" It's also the only metal song that I know of that paraphrases Abraham Lincoln. The song's furious second movement is no political statement (in fact, it's an ode to Frank Castle), but Mustaine's delivery of lyrics about thought-control and his narrator's murdered family are as effective as anything in the Megadeth canon.

The nimble, authoritative bassline to 'Peace Sells' was the theme music to MTV News for a few years. If it sounds lame that Megadeth would affiliate themselves with something like MTV, remember that the former music video channel also used to have programming like this:

In honor of the biggest upset in Super Bowl history , the second-best state in the world, and the late Fred Exley...