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 Greetings, citizen of Eurasia, resident of colony GBv6.0. Please state
serial code and expiry date to any hovering micromonitor and proceed to
Aquadome for daily cleansing. The State reminds all citizens to keep
their ResUnits appropriately free of contraband; more pertinently, any
citizen harbouring the works of the known fugitive gang referred to as Muse
will be re-educated. And the State will again reiterate its commitment
to the eradication of emotion: in Eurasia, to love is to die.
Read more on the jump
And that’s just it, dear citizen, that’s the point of Muse’s barmy,
overblown, often hilarious, sometimes stunning fifth record. Actually,
‘opus’ is more apt: by now you’ll know about the grand themes of state
control, unjust war and marauding Thought Police, maybe you took part
in the treasure hunt that stretched from Dubai to New York, and you’ll
certainly know there’s something on this record that’s 15 minutes long
and called ‘Exogenesis Symphony’. But beneath the
bombast lies Muse’s most coherent and focused record yet, a treatise on
the ineffable power of love.But it sure takes a while to get there.
Muse have always been ambitious, but ‘United States Of Eurasia’ pushes the envelope clean off this sphere of existence: it’s like ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’
crossed with the anthem of an entire planet, all hoofed up with
ultrasteroids, strings and guitars that zoom like spaceships. It’s
deliriously unhinged, shamelessly grandiose and, best of all, superb.
And, as the chorus-line hamming twinkles into a borrowed Chopin
nocturne, the scope changes to something graceful, tonally redolent of ‘Citizen Erased’
in parts, and Muse remind us why we loved them so much in the first
place: because when they go unapologetically batshit insane they’re
untouchable. And it’s a shame there’s not more like it. ‘Uprising’ and ‘Guiding Light’, for example, are just myriad ideas thrown at a wall and expected to stick.
Lyrically, the album’s a love letter from 1984’s Winston Smith to Julia, or rather Bellamy to his fiancée. “Love is our resistance” goes ‘Resistance’
(surprisingly), and the abiding message is that forbidden romance
against the odds will, even in this dystopia, triumph. The
controlling-state leitmotif gets tired quickly, what with all the
bollocks about Thought Police and such, but the references to “my
guiding lightning bolt” suggest that behind the musical lunacy is just
a guy in love with a beautiful woman. Perhaps because this is the first
time he’s opened himself up emotionally, Bellamy feels the need to
cloak his feelings in metaphor, and, once past the overcooked imagery, ‘The Resistance’ feels resolutely human throughout.
Chris Wolstenholme’s bass-doodles in ‘Resistance’ and the barrage of Dom Howard’s drums in ‘Guiding Light’
add texture to otherwise garishly bright canvases, even though the
latter feels like Muse on autopilot save an atomic solo ripped straight
from the Van Halen school of subtlety. ‘MK Ultra’, too, could be any B-side from the last couple of albums. ‘Unnatural Selection’,
on the other hand, is another that makes no bones about its craziness
and is all the stronger for it; heralded by a massive organ and guided
by a typically frenetic Bellamy riff, it’s boiling and brilliant.
But such supernovae of genius are all too rare, as much of ‘The Resistance’
is predictable in its insanity. Maybe they’ve painted themselves into a
corner – now we expect billion-piece string sections and falsetto
rock-lord histrionics and backing vocals performed by a holy choir of
visiting angels and acrobatic guitars powered by NASA and obelisk drums
and and and and – so the schlock of the new has been lost.
So when, on ‘Undisclosed Desires’ and the terrible ‘I Belong To You’, they try to reignite the low-down R&B of ‘Supermassive Black Hole’,
it backfires. The former sounds like something Timbaland might find
down the back of his mixing desk and the latter is a sleazy romp with
an ill-advised section where Bellamy sings in French. And then, when it
can’t get any more laughable: clarinet solo. It’s times like this that ‘The Resistance’
isn’t much of an album, more a prayer to the prog gods plodding around
Rick Wakeman’s subconscious after a heavy night playing wizard.
Speaking of which, it’s time to talk ‘Exogenesis Symphony’.
Comprising ‘Overture’, ‘Cross Pollination’ and ‘Redemption’, slapped at
the end it feels like a concession rather than a dramatic centrepiece.
Having rattled around Bellamy’s mind for years and dealing with nothing
so weighty as, y’know, life on Earth having its roots in the stars and
humans taking an exodus from the planet to repopulate another world
(obviously), it’s almost unbearably pretentious. For all the bluster,
it’s far too reliant on Bellamy’s string arrangements (an astonishing
achievement, yes, but not as accomplished as his work on the ivories
and fretboard; the next album will be a killer, though) rather than the
symphonic peaks and troughs the trio themselves are capable of creating.
It’s symptomatic of ‘The Resistance’ as a whole: conceptually
impressive but musically all too familiar. And while not their best,
it’s decent enough to ensure there’ll be more – even though the truly
off-the-wall moments are either rare or misguided, meaning the record
feels slightly anonymous. So next time, guys, can you just go nuts?
Ben Patashnik
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Sharm el Sheikh, Egypt
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28°C
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27°C
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26%
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