THE SICK, THE DYING...AND THE DEAD!
9/2/22
Megadeth's sixteenth album in six years (first with drummer Dirk Verbeuren) is a testament to resilience. It's timely, yet could've been released at anytime within the past three decades and been just as appropriate. Some things are forever.
Dave Ellefson as Megadeth bassist, not one of those things! Lava finally escaped the fissure vent, and Mustaine wasted little time in showing his longtime bottom the exit--and promptly bringing in Steve Di Giorgio to re-record all of Ellefson's parts for this album.
"The Sick, The Dying...And The Dead!"--A strong-footed stomp that exemplifies the eternal shine of the loud, the fast...and the hard.
"Life In Hell"--Dave Mustaine the lyricist is hung up on berating "you." A bad person, this "you," or maybe they've just made some poor choices. He chooses breakneck over breaking necks, and the regrets dissolve in the loogies hocked against an Amazon truck.
"Night Stalkers"--The second single features Ice-T. Rather than rap or sing, however, the former delivers a bad-ass interlude befitting a private in the Army's 25th Infantry Division. The lyrics are evocative without coming off hoaky and, in what proves to be a common theme throughout the album, the guitar solos destroy.
"Dogs Of Chernobyl"--The caress becomes the clutch. The injustice of poison's prominence in our lives is enough to make the sky fall.
"Sacrifice"--And after a stupendous run, the stumble.
"Come listen to the tale of a tragic sacrifice/Of a warlock king of Satanic ancestry."
Dave, dude, what's the aim here? Scary? Stern? Are you a bard or a buffoon? Either way, these middle school lyrics and high school riffs ain't makin' it.
"Junkie"--Don't do drugs, y'all. In fact, don't say anything to drugs. Even a "no" will drag you into a conversation so twisty and turny that by the time you hit the exit ramp, you're ready to pack your nostrils with fishscale.
"Psychopathy"--More effective as an interlude inside of a song, probably.
"Killing Time"--More like "Skipping Time." Mustaine's a snot, and when he's hit that certain groove--that unimaginative, fake-tough, stolen valor-ass groove--it makes me long for the days of my brother's sun-warped Saxon cassettes.
"Soldier On!"--Finally, the bang is back. And it brought a buddy, suspiciously shy yet alluringly shouldered.
"Celebutante"--There's an accent somewhere there, and were this a better song, I'd go the extra steps necessary to add said accent. Ooh, the beautiful people are vapid and shallow! Tell me 'bout politicians and preachers next, metal man!
"Mission To Mars"--God of war, check. Red planet, mm-hmm, red is the color most commonly associated with blood, anger, tomatoes. Jeez, was this a whole bunch of not-much (a Risk-y proposition, dare I say) up until the twist. On the Serling Scale Of Story Surprises, it's quite below "To Serve Man," but it's considerably above "Probe 7, Over And Out."
"We'll Be Back"--The first single, and the first indication that maybe this album might be a winner. Ferocity, boy, an infinite kamikaze wave that's either a metaphor or a man-crush depending on how dumb the listener is. Still the best thing on here, and a hell of a circle to twirl out on.
(The digital release finished with two covers: "Police Truck" by Dead Kennedys and Sammy Hagar's "This Planet's On Fire." Man will visit Venus before I concern myself with such matters.)
So, bad news first. The Sick, The Dying...And The Dead! is ultimately mediocre. Thunder rumbles and cracks unbroken, lightning flashes at unpredictable intervals...but the clouds never burst.
Good news, though, I have yet to catch COVID. Stay safe, kids.
