That title. That cover. When nothing else will satisfy your craving for mediocre bullshit, believe in ersatz Megadeth.
Same as the last two albums, actually. That just makes this all the more depressing.
"Reckoning Day"--Simple rhymes, delivered in dull tones, do not engender any fear of the future ("wutsticumaphobia"?).
"Train of Consequences"--I dig. Ballsy guit-fiddle. Dave Mustaine pulling a Crazy Cat Lady. Sweep the leg! Mute the strings!
"Addicted to Chaos"--Dave has accumulated mad mileage out of his life as a whore for the high. (And listen, you can rehab it up all you wanna, the truth still remains--once an addict, always an addict.)
"A Tout Le Monde"--Hello. Is it death you're looking for?
A heartfelt goodbye missive from a desultory soul who resorts to a second language in the hopes that it will grace his indelicate passage with greater gravitas. The highlight of Youthanasia, Mustaine's spotty French aside (and admittedly, that is one of the harder accents for native English speakers to pull off without sounding like they're taking the piss).
"Elysian Fields"--I want to like this one, and I do. The crashing chord action helps, but even before that I found this song's inability to be meaningfully remarked upon as a positive thing. When you're performing a task that requires most of your attention, but you'd still like some music in the background, "Elysian Fields" has a special spot on your playlist.
Elysian fields--we are storming the heavens
Elysian fields--to raise our swords and shields
I've had my last name futzed a few ways over the decades, but nothing tops the time my pharmacy labeled a bottle of pills for "Jennifer Benningshield." My God--I trusted those people with supplying me legal drugs!
"The Killing Road"--Tour life, baby. And yes, the metaphor is obvious.
I dig the oddly-accented riff, and for a second I thought, Hey maybe the albums's picking up. Then I thought, Jenn stop letting one memorable part sway you into thinking the whole is worthy.
You know what they say: Second thought best thought.
Once upon a time, Megadeth's guitarists performed solos that I could remember two seconds after the final note.
"Blood of Heroes"--I feel churlish. The songs on Youthanasia have a disquieting tendency to not be very good.
"Family Tree"--Incest is never the move to make. Furthermore, all rapists must meet immediate demise. Show no mercy, no remorse, no repent.
Is sexual deviance the topic here? I got not clue one. But talking about dirty secrets and frontier justice is more interesting for me than reheating the day-old hash browns.
"Youthanasia"--Time for more social consciousness from a douchefuck who's spent half his life in an opium haze.
Who'd believe we'd spend more shippin' drugs and guns
Then to educate our sons?
Water, slaughter, brought her, mater, squatter. Come on, bro.
The music tries, at least, slowly sliding ahead every few covert steps. The somewhat dark, slightly moist trail does kinda distract from Dave's drivel.
"I Thought I Knew It All"--And ya still do, fucker.
Mid-tempo, radio-ready, innovation-free. Softly-fingered and softly-strummed, this is Youthanasia in a nutshell: seeks to soar, sputters instead.
"Black Curtains"--If you pissed on someone's curtains, and they were black…like, you were drunk at a party…and you had the sufficient plumbing…if you pissed on the curtains, and they were black, how long would it take before anyone noticed?
I don't recommend that, as I'm sure the host wouldn't appreciate having their curtains wizzed upon. Just like I don't appreciate lyrics referencing burning hair, boiling blood and bubbling flesh--y'know, imminent death--that somehow leave me so unmoved.
"Victory"--New Dave looks back at Old Dave, and it turns out they're both pricks. Old Dave would stolen Richard Avedon's camera for crack money. New Dave…poses for Richard Avedon.
Well done beating Metallica to the pointless "image enhancement" though, dude!
Youthanasia was Megadeth's last platinum album in the U.S. This heartens me. 'Cause at some point, we the people gotta smarten up and stop falling for the ol' okey-doke.