Monday, March 10, 2014

The Revolution Will Not Be Happening


Roll call!

Dave Mustaine--vocals, guitar
Glen Drover--guitar
James Lorenzo--bass
Shawn Drover--drums

Nothing can stop the imperialist terror that is the United Nations!  Unless it's an armed Glenn Danzig taken over by the Devil gene!

"Sleepwalker"--Arpeggio dust causes rhinos to cough.  That's why I like metal music, that sweet soul-taker music.  Bits of dragon there and here spice up the stew, to some avail.

"Washington Is Next!"
--Government-perpetuated ignorance cannot be truly combated with goonish drums, or solos that show their gleamers.  Honestly I feel more inspired to pop a racing game into the nearest console than defend my liberty. 

"Never Walk Alone…A Call To Arms"
--Dave and Jim Hellwig can both shove their ellipses up their asses.  Take turns till it burns.  If there's room to spare, Dave can cram up that Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits CD he's been keeping under his pillow every night while writing the songs for United Abominations.  I admire vows of personal loyalty, especially when the intent is to adhere to them; I prefer they not smell like New Jersey.

"United Abominations"--Once you get past the hackneyed fake-news report--if you get past it--you find yourself vis-a-vis a crackling indictment of the United Nations.  A chip?  Nah, Mustaine has a "party bag" on his shoulders.

"Gears of Wars"--Written, sans lyrics, for the video game of the same name.  Riff so dumb, it'll make the average armchair soldier's balls swell three sizes.

"Blessed Are the Dead"--More so than the sick? 

Reference to horses.  Reference to pestilence.  Furthermore, famine.  Apocalypse, additionally.  Wait…hold on…"Won't you four horsemen ride again?"  I do not know if this was intended to be an olive branch or a middle finger, and it is difficult to care when the cognitive dissonance engendered by the song makes me want to snort an entire bottles worth of crushed Motrin up both nostrils. 

"Play For Blood"--Pantera worship time!  Pretty rich from the guy who once went on MTV and called out the "spanish panthers" for ripping off his band.  Boy, you are as soft as duck poo on down pillows.

"A Tout Le Monde (Set Me Free)"
--One of Megadeth's few great songs post-Rust gets remade, with Lacuna Coil's Cristine Scabbia helping out on vox.  She and Dave actually sound amazing together, in that super-bombastic way so much metal can sound amazing.  Like you know you should be ashamed for being so eager to bite onto such blatant bait, but you just can't resist.

Introspection that opens up the path to humility serves Dave (and his music) far better than embarking on a trip to the darkest recesses and returning with I WANTED TO KNOW THE MEANING OF LIFE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID SHIRT as your sole souvenir.  It took a lot of courage to get off that Greyhound to begin with, you know.

"Amerikhastan"--Why just the one 'K'?

Portmanteaus are hit-and-miss.  As are preachy war songs.  Wait, scratch that; preachy war songs are an all-the-time miss.  (Slayer do not preach, Slayer tell the truth.)  Singing your confused thoughts over guitars and drums doesn't suddenly unjumble them.  Rock lyrics are by their very nature muddled at best and doggerel at worst.

"You're Dead"--I love baby double bass.  I imagine the drummers are playing with booties on their feet and binkies in their mouths.  Dave is far too scrawny, both on record and off, to scare even me, and I'm a black belt in paranoia.

"Burnt Ice"--If this is what mainlining and snorting drugs sounds like, I'm grateful I've only ever drank mine. 

United Abominations continues the template:  two-thirds soulless plod-trod, last third rapid-fire attack punctuated by showy solos that evaporate from the listeners memory even quicker than the notes themselves dissipate into the ether.   Other than the remake of "A Tout Le Monde" (necessary only in the sense that this record needed at least one song I'd willingly listen to more than once)  this article from UN Dispatch re: the title track is the only good thing to come out of Megadeth's eleventh album.  I admire that writers patience, 'cause frankly I find this all to be so much faux-inflammatory hooey from an aging rock star flailing in all aspects of life.

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