without Internet Explorer,
in 1280 x 960 resolution
I’m not exactly at the forefront when it comes to the negative consequences of project MK-ULTRA, but I’d venture to guess that this pile of sonic drivel was somehow connected to one or two of them. That’s the only logical explanation for a band taking an already boring and redundant Machine Head meets Pantera groove metal album in “Demanufacture” and turning it into a 64 minute long bad LSD trip at a 2AM rave party. Either that, or Dino Cazares and company essentially predicted the rise of the “American Pie” movie character otherwise known as The Shermanator, 2 years before the movie came out no less, and emulated his personality through the musical medium. If that’s the case, maybe the makers of this also feel sorry for it enough that they’ll decided to give it the hot Czechoslovakian chick in the sequel, but no such thing will happen if it‘s up to me.
If Type O Negative are going to be the subject of ridicule for the endless streams of remixes of their songs located on various single b-sides, it should be noted that said band never succeeded in stripping the metal edge from any of their songs. By contrast, Fear Factory have all but completely phased the guitar out of existence, save a few sparse entries spread out at key points within this sea of studio gimmicks and computer sounds. Whatever riffs are able to be located in this musical game of “Where’s Waldo” are usually either two note idea farts comparable to what can be heard on “Roots” or slowed down chugging lines that were probably lifted off of “Chaos A.D.”. But what this lacks in guitar sound it more than makes up for with goofy electronic drum sounds and over-processed vocals. If this isn’t enough to make you break out your glow-in-the-dark lip gloss and hair coloring, all of the Ecstasy in the world won’t help you dude.
Between all the cybernetic Dadaism and droning boredom a very clear pattern emerges, endless repetition without any interesting ideas to drift off into dream world with. Sectional changes, though at times abrupt, are as mechanical as the clanks and auditory zigzags that can only function to the detriment of a listener’s IQ level. Plainness becomes even more apparent in the percussion work, which contains enough straight beats to make AC/DC’S entire back catalog seem gay in comparison. “Cloning Technology” and “Genetic Blueprint” are grade A examples of hypnotic songs with redundant drum beats played by a machine since their too damn boring for most human drummers to stand playing for 5 minutes plus. Then of course there is the purposeless 30 second caprice “Bionic Chronic”. Going to the rave and only packing weed guys? You pussies!
But my own facetiousness aside, my reaction begs the question as to how I came into possession of this sordid abomination. Truth be told, I got it out of a discount bin at an FYE in Baltimore about 6 years ago for $4, and I still feel cheated. When I measure it against all of the various Cds I’ve encountered mocking the good name of heavy metal, it’s pretty close to the bottom of the barrel. But one positive side of the album is that it doesn’t try to pretend to be a metal album, which is more than I can say for “Roots” or “The Burning Red”. If you want to hear a solid mix of industrial music and metal out of these guys, check out either “Soul Of A New Machine” or “Archetype”, and leave this crap to people who are too tripped out to tell the difference between the rave hipsters they’re partying with and the purple demons their bad score dredged up from their subconscious.
Originally submitted to (www.metal-observer.com) on March 26, 2009.