I hadn't had the chance to test my assertion until a few days ago, when, armed with a paycheck, I went and put money out on all sorts of things. One of which was a cd. It's probably the first cd I've paid for since Big Band Salute. It was the new Linkin Park cd.
It's been out for over a month, but it came out quietly. The first I even saw of the promise of a new album was from one of those sidebar ads on Facebook, of all places. I new it would be something different, since you have to expect something different ever since Minutes to Midnight, which was released two and a half years ago.
I went into it with an open mind (which it turns out I didn't even need), and I've never been so proud to be a Linkin Park fan. On top of that, I've never spent money so well as on A Thousand Suns.
GUYS I LOVE THIS ALBUM.
Hybrid Theory, their first studio album, was released ten years ago. This is not that album. What they've done in ten years is what the Beatles did in five and what Bob Dylan did in three: simultaneously reinvent the sound of the band and release their highest achievement to date.
It's their Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and Highway 61 Revisited, combined.
I don't know if it's my dalliance in the backlog of popular music that has attuned me to appreciate this album, but I think it helped me...helps me recognize effort, recognize...greatness in my time. It's all well and good to look back and see the effect Sgt. Pepper had on the late 60s, to look in awe at how far those lads from Liverpool had come, musically and literally. But to get this Thousand Suns and listen to it for the first time when no one else has listened to it and analyzed it and seen what comes next...this is the band of my generation--of my youth, personally--and to be in the stream of time as it happens, rather than looking back at the big picture....
Listen to this song. I Saw Her Standing There, the first track on the Beatles' first album, recorded in 1963. You like it. Everyone likes it. It's of the time, outside the time, drawing you in with its perfect simplicity. It's everything that made the Beatles the biggest act of their day.
Now listen to this. A Day in the Life, from the 1967 concept album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Do you like this song? It doesn't even matter. Is this song a landmark of musical ingenuity and skill? No two ways about it. Is it a turning point for the band? Of course, there was nothing like this ever before, anywhere. Is it greatness? Undoubtedly. You don't even need time to tell.
Start over.
Listen to this song. Song to Woody, from Bob Dylan's first, self-titled album, released in 1962. One of the very first songs he ever wrote for himself. It's simple, it's folksy; just Dylan, his words, and a guitar: it's everything that made Bob Dylan great.
Now listen to this. Like a Rolling Stone, from the 1965 full electric album Highway 61 Revisited. Is it different? Oh yeah. Did it stop him from being among the greatest songwriters of the 60s and all time? Didn't I just see him perform this in concert a few months ago? And how many times have you heard this song in your life? How many times have you heard "Song to Woody?"
(Further listening on the change of Bob Dylan)
This history lesson is my preemptive strike against the doubters, the people who didn't bother to or regretted spending money on A Thousand Suns.
Listen to this song. In The End, from 2000's Hybrid Theory. Is it good? It's what made Linkin Park great. To this day, if I even see the words "Linkin Park," I get the piano riff instantly stuck in my head. It's of the time, outside the time. It's new (nu-metal, The Man dubs it), it's overflowing with raw teen angst.
Now listen to A Thousand Suns. As great as Hybrid Theory is, the magnitude of difference between it and the new album is the same as the difference between the songs and albums mentioned above.
If Minutes to Midnight was a shock, a shocking change, that's only because it was a stepping stone to what they were really trying to do. The title of the previous album comes from the Doomsday Clock, by which scientists anticipated the proverbial End. It was a politically charged album, raging against the establishment instead of just against post-adolescent injustices.
It was an angry album. They all have been. Angry at ones own frustrations, situations, insecurites, the ones who wronged you, the oppressors, the government. It was very much a "you and I" battle, these first albums. You've hurt me and I'm angry at you.
I feel like in A Thousand Suns, the anger is still there, still focused at The Man from Minutes to Midnight, but that the dynamic has changed. Now it's "you and Them, and I'm angry at Them for you." It's a much more...sympathetic anger? Angry at the war machine on behalf of those it hurts.
Instead of "I tried so hard and got so far / but in the end, it doesn't even matter,"[In The End] it's "You say / you're not gonna fight / 'cause no one will fight for you" [Robot Boy].
From Given Up [Minutes to Midnight]
Wake in a sweat again
Another day's been laid to waste
In my disgrace
Stuck in my head again
Feels like I'll never leave this place
There's no escape
to Iridescent
Do you feel cold and lost in desperation
You build up hope but failure's all you've known
Remember all the sadness and frustration
And let it go
Let it go
And beyond the lyrics, there's the musical experimentation, bold Sgt. Pepper stuff. The first 13 minutes, five tracks, are a solid block of...sonic experience. There's also a whole song--I'll show you:
Jornada Del Muerto
持ち上げて
解き放して
Bold. Bold statements being made here, musically. And the end, there's a whole, like, suite to wrap it up, touching on a bunch of things you've already experienced...it blows my mind. It's narrative, almost, this album. To listen to just one song would be to watch just one scene of a movie. To put it on shuffle would be to watch the episodes out of order.
And there's clips of historic speeches and statements, anti-war the lot of them, set to a beat between "real" songs. The first track has the Sputnik peep offset with this piano beat. The same piano bit comes back in Waiting for the End, and the Sputnik peep comes back in Jornada Del Muerto.
It's a very dark album, gives me the image of post-apocalyptica. Like this comes from a different time, where Midnight's come and gone, it's already too late. Maybe it's just because I was just playing Fallout 3 the other day. Maybe it's the BSG tones I hear in a particular piano riff, or the crazy drum intro to When They Come For Me. Or the opening to Catalyst, which gives me vibes from Akira's wind-swept Neo-Tokyo.
My least favorite track is Wretches and Kings, because it sounds the most like the old stuff. Personally, it serves as a reminder of just how much more I like the new stuff. There's still Mike's vicious rap, there's still Chester's epic screaming, but more than that there are songs where one or both of them sing with the smoothest, most melodic voices of angels you EVER heard. And the harmonies!! There are no words.
Okay, so this turned out not so much a review, but I just needed to express myself on this subject. It's...something more than just "the new Linkin Park cd." It's history in the making.
Forget being bigger than the Beatles. How am I supposed to beat this?
Maybe it's just the right sound at the right time, and I was in the right mood to hear it, but I think it's just perfect. If your opinion differs from mine on this, I don't want to hear it. Because if you don't see what this album is, if you don't think that this is amazing, I will remember you. And perhaps time will fade my grudge, but until then I won't be able to take your musical opinion very seriously.
Maybe you only like traditional Irish lute music, though. Maybe that's your thing. That's okay if you don't like the way this sounds. But if you like good music, regardless of label, you have no excuse.
And if you're looking for the old Linkin Park albums, you know where to find them.
-Steph
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