PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: Frank Miller’s Fascist Nightmare
Green Day
2005
GENRE: Punk Rock / Alternative / Political
LABEL: Reprise Records
REVIEWED: October 15, 2005
Green Day audaciously tackles dystopia and political disarray through the lens of Frank Miller’s work, but navigates a precarious tightrope between satire and melody.
It’s one thing for a punk rock band to channel its discontent with the state of the world into music; it’s another to undertake a concept album that borrows not just stylistically but nominally from a controversial comic book icon. Green Day’s new album, “Frank Miller’s Fascist Nightmare,” is a perplexing concoction that delves into the layers of power, rebellion, and societal malaise—albeit with a somewhat wry nod to Frank Miller, a writer known for, among other things, his complex views on power and morality.
The Bay Area trio—Billy Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tré Cool—don’t hold back, using Miller’s works as a springboard for an exploration of themes that include dystopia, political turmoil, and the dark implications of unchecked power. The execution, however, is where things start to get a little muddy. At times, it feels like Green Day are using Miller’s name for shock value and as a vector to comment on the growing phenomena of real-life superhumans—many of whom are aligning with law enforcement agencies.
The album’s opener, “Shadows on the Wall,” acts as a paean to modern-day vigilantes, but it risks mythologizing rather than critiquing its subjects. It’s followed by “Red Sun Over the Capitol,” a fervid tune that does well to question the authoritarian shades of democracy. Unfortunately, the song’s brash tempo and shrill guitars dilute the gravitas of its message. These inconsistencies manifest throughout the album; a symptom of its struggle to commit fully to the ambitious themes it grapples with.
But “Frank Miller’s Fascist Nightmare” finds its footing with tracks like “Inkblot,” a slow-burning reflection on the blurry ethics of heroes and anti-heroes. Armstrong’s lyrical prowess shines here, offering a nuanced take on the album’s overarching concept. The song is especially poignant in its timing, given the emerging legal wranglings between Green Day and Miller, who took offense to both the usage of his name and the insinuation linking him with fascism.
There’s something commendable about how this album, with its gall to be both audacious and satirical, takes risks. It’s not a perfect record by any stretch, often sacrificing melodic integrity for the sake of sardonic commentary. Yet, the album’s inconsistent textures serve as a reminder that Green Day are still willing to grapple with the uncomfortable, even if they occasionally trip over their own feet in the process.
As biting as it is, the album is not without its flaws. Its audacity to engage in a legal tango with Frank Miller over intellectual property feels less like activism and more like a marketing stunt dressed in a rebellious cloak. The album’s attempt to wrestle with significant social issues sometimes veers into self-indulgence, sacrificing nuance for shock value. Additionally, the title “Frank Miller’s Fascist Nightmare” feels unjustifiably combative, a hyperbole that detracts from the depth of Miller’s work and undermines the album’s broader messages.
But what cannot be denied is that Green Day has taken a daring leap, infusing the album with a desperate urgency that mirrors the chaos of the times. “Frank Miller’s Fascist Nightmare” may not be a perfect record, but it’s a reckoning—a distorted mirror held up to an America grappling with its identity in an era of unprecedented complexity. And in that regard, it’s a biting, if contentious, triumph.
Rating: 7.8
By Evelyn Rosenblum
PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: Molotov
Rage Against the Machine
2006
GENRE: Rap Metal / Alternative Metal
LABEL: Epic Records
REVIEWED: December 1, 2006
Rage Against the Machine returns with “Molotov,” an album that attempts to ignite a political firestorm but ends up merely fanning the flames of their own well-worn formula.
“Molotov,” Rage Against the Machine’s latest foray into political acrimony, arrives at a time of undeniable urgency. The Superhuman Registration Act is on the verge of being passed, civil liberties are being eroded, and the atmosphere is rife with tension. So, here comes Rage, stomping into the fray, Molotov cocktail in hand, to add fuel to the fire. The question is: are they illuminating new terrain, or simply retracing the same incendiary ground they’ve been treading for over a decade?
As soon as the initial riffs of the opening track, “Liberty in Chains,” hit your ears, it’s obvious that RATM is in their default mode. Zack de la Rocha’s verses are as scorching and vitriolic as ever, targeting the architects and proponents of the Superhuman Registration Act. Tom Morello’s riffs are equally indignant, taking a detour through unfiltered feedback and politically-infused motifs. Yet, the urgency with which the message is delivered is hampered by a nagging sense of déjà vu.
“Brass Tacks and Bullets” is another example. The song seems destined to become an anthem for those against the Act, complete with chants and rallying cries, but it echoes rather than amplifies their earlier, more innovative work. It sounds like Rage doing what Rage does best, but it lacks the revelatory zeal that made them groundbreaking in the first place. The familiar Morello solos and de la Rocha’s incantations start to feel almost routine, regardless of the political turmoil they aim to address.
The most jarring instance of this is the track “Fascist Frequency,” where a would-be piercing critique of mass media complicity is drowned out by its own performative radicalism. The formula here is so well-worn that it threatens to become caricature, diluting the genuine passion and anger that have long been Rage’s stock-in-trade.
However, it would be disingenuous to completely disregard the album’s emotional resonance, especially considering the band’s role in real-life events. The story of Tom Morello intervening to prevent an assassination attempt on de la Rocha during the album’s debut tour (by smacking the would-be assailant with a guitar, natch) adds a layer of authenticity to their political advocacy, even if musically, they’ve plateaued.
Rage Against the Machine has always been a band that pushes boundaries, both musically and politically. But on “Molotov,” they seem confined by their own legacy. The album will undoubtedly rally the faithful, serve as an anthem for protests, and add more fuel to the political inferno. Still, one can’t shake the feeling that Rage Against the Machine is capable of so much more, and “Molotov” simply reiterates rather than reinvigorates.
Rating: 6.4
By Evelyn Rosenblum
PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: Beyond the Veil
Azure Horizon
2006
GENRE: Post-Metal / Ambient / Experimental
LABEL: Independent
REVIEWED: November 21, 2006
Azure Horizon’s debut “Beyond the Veil” is a hauntingly ambitious auditory tapestry that threads the line between post-metal soundscapes and ethereal realms but raises questions about its potential for mainstream resonance.
What do you get when you straddle the boundary between cerebral metal and languorous ambience? The answer lies within the sonic corridors of Azure Horizon’s audacious debut, “Beyond the Veil.” In an audial landscape that often falls prey to the monotonies of genre compliance, this album arrives like an extraterrestrial, defying easy categorization while daring listeners to engage with its complexity.
The record opens with “Astral Tether,” a 12-minute opus that vacillates between guttural riffs and sprawling atmospheric interludes, narrated by ethereal vocals that seem to hover above the instruments like an apparition. The transition is so seamless that it’s like stepping into a soundscape that oscillates between corporeal reality and celestial wonder, never fully grounding the listener in either.
“Seventh Heaven,” the album’s centerpiece, embodies the quintessence of this precarious fusion. With its disorienting shifts between tempestuous metal sequences and somnolent pauses, it’s as if Azure Horizon is challenging us to rethink our auditory sensibilities. The avant-garde leanings echo the experimental sensibilities of drone and sludge metal but bring an emotive intensity that is disarming, almost spiritual.
In terms of technicality, “Beyond the Veil” leaves little to be desired. The production quality is meticulous, and the musical arrangement indicates a deliberate compositional strategy. Even at its most cacophonous, there is a narrative arc, a thread of continuity that sustains engagement. It’s an aural universe unto itself, demanding complete submersion to be fully appreciated.
However, herein lies the album’s double-edged sword. While its boundary-pushing ambitions are a breath of fresh air in a stiflingly predictable musical ecosystem, they also raise questions about its marketability. Can a record so uncompromising in its avant-garde approach resonate with a broader audience? Can Azure Horizon maintain their artistic integrity while maneuvering through an industry that often rewards formulaic predictability over ingenuity?
The audacity of “Beyond the Veil” is both its greatest strength and its most significant liability. The album is a captivating, if disorienting, adventure that piques curiosity but might confound mass appeal. It pushes the envelope so far that one can’t help but wonder whether it will find a mailing address.
As it stands, Azure Horizon’s “Beyond the Veil” is an idiosyncratic masterpiece that resonates with those willing to embark on its esoteric journey. Whether it will echo in the halls of mainstream musical culture remains to be seen, but its existence alone is a testament to the boundless possibilities of artistic daring.
Rating: 8.6
By Jerry Charles
PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: Syzygy
The Mars Volta & Radiohead
2007
GENRE: Experimental / Progressive Rock / Art Rock
LABEL: Warner Bros. Records & XL Recordings
REVIEWED: November 3, 2007
In an unexpected alignment, The Mars Volta and Radiohead merge their disparate styles to craft a staggering auditory experience that is both cerebral and soul-stirring, exceeding the lofty expectations placed upon this supergroup collaboration.
It’s not often that two veritable titans of the alternative rock world share the same musical space. But here we are, graced with “Syzygy,” a masterstroke by a supergroup composed of The Mars Volta and Radiohead, and the result is nothing short of transcendental. What could have been a calamitous clash of egos or artistic visions is instead a harmonious mélange—a meticulously curated sonic kaleidoscope that serves as a testament to the mastery of both bands.
Opening with “Tidal Forces,” the listener is immediately plunged into an ocean of ethereal guitar riffs, complex time signatures, and atmospheric soundscapes. The song is a sprawling tableau, a voyage into the musical ethos of two bands renowned for their commitment to pushing boundaries. Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s vocals whirl around Thom Yorke’s melancholic falsetto like twin celestial bodies in orbit, with each complementing the other but never overshadowing.
“Nebulous,” the second track, taps into the existential dread both bands have excelled at portraying. The song alternates between contemplative moments and frenzied bursts of energy, led by Jonny Greenwood’s cerebral guitar work and Omar Rodríguez-López’s intricate rhythms. The composition ebbs and flows, invoking a journey through abstract thoughtscapes, as though attempting to sonically illustrate the complexities of the human psyche.
“Continuum” is the point where the album’s title, “Syzygy,” finds its embodiment. Here, the synergy between the two bands is most palpable. The track defies easy categorization, combining jazz, electronic elements, and progressive rock in a harmonious blend that feels like a declaration of unity in diversity. It’s a meditation on balance—each artist making space for the other, in a coalescence that feels predestined.
Closing with “Apotheosis,” the album doesn’t so much end as it ascends into a different plane. The track serves as a summary of the album’s intent: it’s an unspoken manifesto, articulating the limitless potentialities when artists are in tune with each other. The layers gradually build up, culminating in a climax that leaves you both spent and yearning for more.
While the album only consists of four tracks, each is an expedition unto itself—profoundly rich and endlessly rewarding upon subsequent listens. “Syzygy” manages to transcend the sum of its parts, becoming a timeless document of collaborative genius. It doesn’t just exceed expectations; it virtually redefines them.
For those who find solace in the meticulously crafted worlds of The Mars Volta and Radiohead, “Syzygy” is nothing less than an auditory pilgrimage—offering an experience that resonates on frequencies both emotional and cerebral. In this rare instance, the supergroup concept doesn’t dilute; it distills each band’s essence into a rich elixir that both long-term fans and newcomers will find potent.
Rating: 9.4
By Dawn de la Cruz
PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: Bedsheet Ghosts
The Distant Cries
2008
GENRE: Alternative Rock / Post-Grunge
LABEL: Interscope Records
REVIEWED: August 20, 2008
“Bedsheet Ghosts” is a competent but overly cautious debut, as The Distant Cries borrow generously from their alt-rock predecessors without truly escaping their spectral influences.
The debut album from The Distant Cries, “Bedsheet Ghosts,” offers a palette of alternative rock shades that are as familiar as they are impeccably executed. Imagine a well-curated gallery featuring brilliant imitations of renowned masterpieces, and you’re close to capturing the essence of this record. It’s good—remarkably so for a debut—but one can’t shake the feeling that it operates within the comfort zone of its own influences.
The album launches with “Shadowboxing,” a track whose serrated guitar riffs and anxious vocal deliveries mirror the restless energy of a new band eager to prove its mettle. While it succeeds as an attention-grabber, it’s not entirely clear whose attention the band is seeking: their future fans or the spirits of the alternative rock bands who’ve walked this path before them.
The lyrics throughout are introspective, striving for profundity, yet often bordering on the cryptic. “Phantom Limbs,” for instance, delves into the themes of loss and emotional detachment but tends to meander through its metaphorical landscape, leaving the listener yearning for more specificity. Is it an ode to a severed relationship, a commentary on existential isolation, or both? The ambiguity is simultaneously intriguing and frustrating, a puzzle missing just one or two crucial pieces.
What the album lacks in innovation, it makes up for in craftsmanship. “Lingering” showcases the band’s adeptness in blending powerful guitar sequences with mellifluous hooks. And yet, the technique feels borrowed, evoking the styles of early-’00s alt-rock rather than blazing a new trail. It’s a delicious dish but one whose recipe you’ve tasted before.
“Bedsheet Ghosts” is curiously reserved for a debut album, almost as if the band is haunted by the fear of stepping too far out of line. This coy demeanor works both for and against them. It makes for a highly listenable record, but one that doesn’t demand repeated spins to uncover hidden layers; what you see—or hear, in this case—is pretty much what you get.
Is it a good album? Absolutely. But good in the way your second-favorite cup of coffee is good. It provides the necessary jolt, warms your insides, but doesn’t leave a lasting impression once the cup is empty. For a debut, that’s far from disastrous, but as The Distant Cries grow into their own, one can only hope they’ll take off the bedsheets and reveal the unique apparitions they have the potential to become.
Rating: 6.9
By Evelyn Rosenblum
PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: Eros
Deftones
2008
GENRE: Alternative Metal / Experimental / Nu-metal
LABEL: Maverick / Reprise Records
REVIEWED: November 24, 2008
Deftones elevate their trademark alchemy of alternative metal and sonic experimentation to staggering new heights, making “Eros” an indispensable opus that not only fans but skeptics should dare to explore.
If you’ve been waiting for an album that transcends the boundaries of metal while staying unequivocally true to its roots, look no further than Deftones’ “Eros.” In a genre saturated with recycled riffs and stagnant lyricism, the band delivers a collection of tracks that is both a sonic revelation and a robust challenge to the conventional limits of rock.
From the first reverberating strains of “White Lines,” it’s evident that “Eros” is a manifestation of controlled chaos. Chi Cheng’s bass lines are not just heard; they are felt. The precision and depth of his play provide a textured undercurrent to the labyrinth of sounds that Chino Moreno and Stephen Carpenter conjure. A shoutout to sound engineer Chris Rakestraw is inevitable and well-deserved; the production on “Eros” is a flawless meld of heaviness and finesse.
While it might be convenient to label Deftones as an alternative metal band, “Eros” defies such simplistic categorizations. The album sees the band delving into ethereal, almost shoegaze-like moments in tracks like “Redsky,” a song that lulls listeners into a state of introspection before the guttural cries and percussive avalanches jar you back to reality. This is not just a heavier, better-produced “White Pony”; this is a meticulously crafted tapestry of sound and emotion that shatters expectations.
Lyrically, Moreno plumbs the usual depths of existential dread, intimacy, and visceral experience, yet there’s a palpable sense of maturity and focus that threads through the narrative of “Eros.” Tracks like “Pelagic” and “Serpent’s Kiss” explore the darker facets of human emotion without wallowing in self-indulgent morbidity. Instead, they serve as touchstones for listeners to grapple with their own complexities, a sort of communion between artist and audience that few bands achieve.
If there’s a weak spot, it’s not readily apparent. Purists might argue that “Eros” veers a little too far into the experimental for their liking, but such criticism seems trivial in the face of the album’s unapologetic originality. This is not just a Deftones album; it’s an event, a sonic manifesto that commands attention from both diehard fans and casual listeners.
To those who have never experienced the Deftones’ brand of alternative metal: “Eros” is your invitation. To those who are already converts: prepare to elevate your faith. This album is not just a display of musical mastery; it’s an articulation of the band’s lasting impact on a genre that desperately needed a jolt of innovation. And with “Eros,” Deftones have provided just that—a pulse-quickening, soul-stirring masterstroke that will undoubtedly resonate for years to come.
Rating: 9.6
By Jerry Charles
“The King of Pop Gets Electrified—But Not Entirely Recharged”
By Mary Schmidt
In a world where artists struggle to remain relevant in an ever-shifting musical landscape, Michael Jackson doesn’t just adapt; he electrifies. With his 2008 offering, aptly titled “Electrify,” the King of Pop ventures into the thriving domain of electronica. Aligning himself with the genre’s up-and-comers from France and the UK, Jackson seeks to infuse his timeless sound with modern electronic beats. The outcome? An album that skates the edge of brilliance but fumbles in the quest for transcendence.
Michael Jackson doesn’t simply step into the realm of electronica; he lunges, gambles, and experiments. The album’s opener, “Electric Soul,” is an infectious blend of Jackson’s signature falsetto and pulsating electronic rhythms. It serves as a harbinger of the synth-soaked voyage the listener is about to embark on. The musical gymnastics continue with tracks like “Moonbeam” and “Thunder Heaven,” where Jackson seamlessly fuses his quintessential pop harmonies with airy syntho-bass. While these excursions into electronica are thrilling, they’re also somewhat predictable. Jackson, ever the meticulous artist, seems to be navigating this new realm cautiously, if not clinically. The experimentation is there, but the audaciousness that made him a global icon feels somewhat restrained.
The album’s collaborations, though ambitious, present a mixed bag. On the one hand, they offer a fascinating glimpse into what could be the future of pop-electronica synthesis. On the other, they often serve to highlight the disparity between Jackson’s proven artistry and the relative inexperience of his collaborators. Tracks like “Neon Nights,” featuring French wunderkind Discostella, teeter on the edge of becoming formulaic EDM anthems, saved only by Jackson’s distinctive vocals and lyrical ingenuity. It’s as if these collaborations are a vehicle for the newcomers to up their game, but they fail to elevate Jackson in a similar capacity. One cannot help but ponder: is Michael Jackson lifting them, or are they, perhaps unwittingly, dragging him into the realm of the mundane?
But let’s be clear: even a muted Michael Jackson is a force to be reckoned with. When the album hits its stride, as it does with the retro-futuristic “Heartbeat 3000,” it reminds us why Jackson remains an enduring figure in music history. The track melds 80s nostalgia with modern production techniques, creating a sonic tapestry that only someone of Jackson’s caliber could weave.
In the final assessment, “Electrify” is not so much a revolution as it is a recalibration for Jackson. While it doesn’t achieve the stratospheric heights of “Thriller” or the poignant storytelling of “Bad,” it nonetheless remains a potent testament to the King of Pop’s ability to adapt and innovate. The album may have its missteps, but it also has moments of sheer, unadulterated Michael. And in a musical era crying out for authenticity amidst a sea of one-hit wonders and viral novelties, that’s worth its weight in gold records.
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
Trent Reznor Walks a Tightrope Between Genius and Absurdity in Nine Inch Nails’ “Ballgag”
By Louis Porter
In the world of rock music, few artists are known for the chutzpah and sheer audacity to transcend genres as boldly as Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor. But “Ballgag,” his latest offering, seems less like an artistic expression and more like a shrewd chess move, albeit one played against an opponent who doesn’t know the difference between a pawn and a rook. Is it a stroke of genius, or a convoluted mess? That depends on whether you find jazz tolerable—never mind palatable—in the first place.
Following a very public legal battle with Interscope Records, Reznor turned to what can best be described as contractual obligation art, if there is such a thing. Swapping out his synths and electric guitars for saxophones and trumpets seems like a gamble even the most desperate Las Vegas oddsmaker wouldn’t take. And yet, here we are.
From the opening track, “Leather Requiem,” it’s clear that Reznor is going for something unexpected. Swirling, freeform jazz compositions serve as the backdrop for his distinctive anguished vocals. It’s like watching a Jack Kerouac novel come to life if it were narrated by an emo kid from the 2000s—which is as jarring as it sounds.
However, just when you think Reznor is going to plunge fully into self-indulgent jazz fusion territory, he pulls you back with a track like “Restrained Euphoria,” where the confluence of moody sax solos and haunting lyrics remind you that you’re still in Nine Inch Nails’ world, albeit a version you might never have wanted to visit.
For those who live and breathe jazz, “Ballgag” might appear as a courageous endeavor. Songs like “Masochism” and “Blister” showcase an unexpected mastery of jazz instrumentation and form. There’s a technical brilliance in how Reznor weaves complex melodies around his usually dark and introspective themes. Still, these merits are likely lost on those who signed up for the industrial, electronic sound Nine Inch Nails has honed for decades. To them, this album is akin to a favorite restaurant suddenly deciding to serve only desserts—interesting but not what you came for.
Sales figures and jazz aficionados may argue otherwise, but “Ballgag” feels more like a detour than a destination. It serves as a testament to Reznor’s musical virtuosity, but at the cost of alienating a fan base that never asked for this degree of experimentation. To quote one of Reznor’s own songs, it seems he’s become “somewhat damaged.” Whether that’s a bad thing will depend on how much you’re willing to gag down this peculiar brand of fusion jazz.
Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars
PITCHFORK ALBUM REVIEW: The End of History
Nine Inch Nails
2009
GENRE: Jazz Fusion / Industrial / Experimental
LABEL: Interscope Records
REVIEWED: April 20, 2009
Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor pushes the boundaries of musical genre, emotional depth, and cultural critique with an audacious dive into the realm of Jazz Fusion, yielding an album of unparalleled brilliance.
In a move that can only be described as daring, Trent Reznor’s “The End of History” sweeps the musical landscape clean of any previously held convictions about what jazz fusion could, or should, be. While “Ballgag” may have been a contractual playground—a playground full of irony—this album is anything but. “The End of History” is Reznor’s magnum opus, a statement so gripping and so polished it makes his earlier album look like mere child’s play, an experiment for the sake of irony.
From the very first note of “Disarray,” a sense of genuine complexity takes over. Reznor is not mocking jazz; he is redefining it, fusing industrial beats with the raw energy of live instrumentation, both respectful of jazz’s origins and deeply embedded in the contemporary. The saxophones wail as if mourning the world’s iniquities, giving space for Reznor’s cathartic screams. A dialogue between despair and chaos takes place, each fighting for dominance but ultimately arriving at harmony.
The title track, “The End of History,” is a 15-minute tour de force—a daring political critique framed in the musical idioms of both Thelonious Monk and Aphex Twin. Reznor deconstructs the post-9/11 world, sonically capturing the ideological tension between freedom and surveillance. The mind-altering scales and chord progressions serve not merely as musical exploration but as existential questions posed to the listener: What is freedom? What is identity in a post-truth era?
“Poltergeist,” the album’s emotional climax, introduces intricate piano sequences alongside digitally manipulated drum patterns. It’s as if Reznor asks us to find a piece of our shattered selves in each note. The tune manages to be poignant, melodic, and deeply unsettling all at once—a feeling of being truly alive, but also acutely aware of one’s fragility.
Lyrically, Reznor navigates the same labyrinths of angst and existentialism that his fanbase has come to know well, but here he arms them with a new sense of maturity and universality. He’s no longer the spokesman of a specific generation’s angst but a commentator on the human condition itself. This culminates in the astounding “10 A Boot Stomping,” where he whispers, “I became a million pieces,” just as a thousand instruments burst into a cacophony, only to reunite as a harmonious whole.
To call “The End of History” simply a jazz fusion album would be a grotesque understatement; it is a transcendent work of art that engages listeners at multiple levels—emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. Trent Reznor, with this singular vision, has not only fulfilled his contractual obligations but has also fulfilled a greater, unwritten contract with humanity: to create art that challenges, questions, and elevates. This is not just the end of history; it’s the beginning of a new conversation.
Rating: 9.8/10
By Evelyn Rosenblum
Chum 