Spring Break
Static-X hits hard, but lifelessly
2 and a half out of 5 stars
John Bailey
Issue date: 3/19/09 Section: Focus
"Cult of Static" is about hitting. Striking. Not "whacking," because that sounds a little goofy, and not "punching," because that feels a little too organic. This heavily-digitized, loop-loving, back-to-basics industrial metal album is one auditory assault after another. If it punches, it's wearing an electrified steel gauntlet.
Static-X has been etching the "industrial" into metal since 1999's "Wisconsin Death Trip" with precise, lock-step synth grooves and destructoid drumming. Frontman and boss grunter Wayne Static may actually be a death cyborg from the future, unable to express human emotion - or modulate his voice away from his (or "its,") signature bark. You could probably replace every word on the album with "BANG BANG BANG, BANG BANG BANG BANG" without losing any of the, uh, poetry.
The album's best songs are compact, lifeless little cannonballs; they start with a beat and a jagged, crashing chord and they never take a break - they never try to explore auditory space, they never even change key.
"You Am I" speeds by like a bullet, and it's probably pretty easy to dodge the simple progressions, but I didn't really mind the painful impact. "Z28" is about a car, and perhaps a very smart car wrote the song, because any human would probably try to do something "musical." I could listen to "Isolaytore's" triple bass kicks and driving hi-hat all day, provided I also spent the whole day blowing up Terminators with a grenade launcher.
It works on a very narrow level; you could call it "horizontal," like those cars they use to break desert speed records. When the album slips from that thin lightning-bolt line, though, its lack of depth is blinding. Maybe the other fleshy, organic members got tired of their music being fed to an industrial crusher and staged a revolt, I don't know, but songs like "Terminal" and "Nocturnally" get far too big for their titanium britches.
Whenever the beat switches up, whenever a track tries to "progress" or "build" (and whenever an overwrought guitar solo messes with the streamlined mojo ), you realize how bland this album actually is. Megadeth's Dave Mustaine shows up for a solo, and he tries really hard, but it's ultimately like putting lipstick on a battleship. Take "Cult of Static" for a spin if you need a theme song for your robot revolution, but weakling mortals might want to toss this one in the crusher.
Static-X has been etching the "industrial" into metal since 1999's "Wisconsin Death Trip" with precise, lock-step synth grooves and destructoid drumming. Frontman and boss grunter Wayne Static may actually be a death cyborg from the future, unable to express human emotion - or modulate his voice away from his (or "its,") signature bark. You could probably replace every word on the album with "BANG BANG BANG, BANG BANG BANG BANG" without losing any of the, uh, poetry.
The album's best songs are compact, lifeless little cannonballs; they start with a beat and a jagged, crashing chord and they never take a break - they never try to explore auditory space, they never even change key.
"You Am I" speeds by like a bullet, and it's probably pretty easy to dodge the simple progressions, but I didn't really mind the painful impact. "Z28" is about a car, and perhaps a very smart car wrote the song, because any human would probably try to do something "musical." I could listen to "Isolaytore's" triple bass kicks and driving hi-hat all day, provided I also spent the whole day blowing up Terminators with a grenade launcher.
It works on a very narrow level; you could call it "horizontal," like those cars they use to break desert speed records. When the album slips from that thin lightning-bolt line, though, its lack of depth is blinding. Maybe the other fleshy, organic members got tired of their music being fed to an industrial crusher and staged a revolt, I don't know, but songs like "Terminal" and "Nocturnally" get far too big for their titanium britches.
Whenever the beat switches up, whenever a track tries to "progress" or "build" (and whenever an overwrought guitar solo messes with the streamlined mojo ), you realize how bland this album actually is. Megadeth's Dave Mustaine shows up for a solo, and he tries really hard, but it's ultimately like putting lipstick on a battleship. Take "Cult of Static" for a spin if you need a theme song for your robot revolution, but weakling mortals might want to toss this one in the crusher.
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