Busted, Broke & American

Listened to “Speak English or Die” a few days ago… fair play to the Anthrax lads and their roadie Billy Milano for smacking this rude, unapologetic but utterly compelling piece of thrash/crossover vehemence in the middle of the 80’s… which still rocks big time today, mind you. With this being strictly a side-project, the audience knew that a follow-up wasn’t a very likely occurrence, but Milano couldn’t possibly leave these glorious ashes to smoulder and expire… he decided to capitalize on this slab’s success, and changed only one letter from the previous moniker. In other words, the Stormtroopers of Death became Methods of Destruction… a most logical transition…

but not music-wise. “U.S.A. for M.O.D.” remains one of the most hilarious tapes I’ve ever lent ears on. As I, alongside every other intelligent human being on the planet, was expecting a loyal sequel to the first showing, I could hardly believe what the guys had cooked, a most rousing mish-mash of styles that kept the element of entertainment high, and even found the time to nod reverentially at its predecessor. It wasn’t possible to completely dislike this humorous unpretentious opus, the level of curiosity even higher regarding the next outing, the fans wondering whether the same amount of over-the-top goofiness could be poured over them a second time around…

yes but no. “Gross Misconduct” was a much more serious recording, with thrash brought back with fuller-force, the band sounding angrier and rowdier, the surf, the sun and the beaches left behind for the production of a decent, if not truly distinct, contender. But that was it cause entered the 90’s and brought new sounds with them, ones that Milano embraced whole-heartedly for a string of albums comprising bland unimaginative modern thrashcore and very little else. The man and his ever-rotating cohort were surfin’ the decade for the groove and the aggro exclusively, turning to parody and satire once the new millennium arrived, with “The Rebel You Love to Hate”, the man making fun of dominant at the time (Limp Bizkit, Eminem, Rammstein, Rage against the Machine, etc.) music luminaries by imitating them in his staple offensive, not excessively apologetic again manner.

Then came “Red, White & Screwed” which was finally more like it, Milano eventually betting on more intense crossover exploits, hesitating between the modern and the old school sound, but managing to keep decent balance between the two sides without messing it up. The album reviewed here is certainly a step in the right direction, the guys moshing with quite a bit of vigour, dispersing short dynamic cuts (“The Final Declaration”, the title-track) at will, the explosive “Fight” an exemplary headbanging showdown, the mellower punky veneer of "Hooligan” another festive collection of tunes, Milano shouting, also semi-singing on occasion, his political (in)correct lyrics with the expected panache and spite. The thing is that the band simply can’t stop moshing here, with more unrestrained pieces (“Billy Be Damned”, “Shattered Dreams & Broken Glass”) rushing in later, the radio-friendly shorter “All out of Bubblegum” just a gust of all-instrumental poppiness, cancelled outright by the bursting violent “Go Go Revolution”.

This is way more like it, especially if you want to exit the scene with a bang, as Milano had announced earlier that this was to be the band’s last endeavour. Numerous delays hampered its release as well, making some think that Milano had stepped on someone’s toes with the lyrical content, and that the censure wouldn’t let it hit the ether… well, it did, and there isn’t much lyrical indecency to cringe from, truth be told, the final track “Kennedy Speaks” containing one of the late president John F. Kennedy’s speeches in its entirety, an indication of patriotism no more no less, as no one’s fooling no one here. The times of the overt parodies and offensive references are gone; let’s get serious and focused as a farewell gesture, and give the public something to remember us by… and the public will by all means remember them, as this effort easily places itself right after the mentioned sophomore as the man’s second finest product. It’s not revolutionary, it’s not extraordinary, it’s not even genre-defining by any means; but is a solid block of what the man can do best, to mosh with covert moderation and with an eye on both the humorous and the political, even when sometimes his infatuations with those two cross over several lines with ease.

Will the world be a better place without Milano’s confrontational, both musical and lyrical, stance? I don’t know… I personally prefer to be aware of the existence of a rebel; one that can either make you love him with passion, or hate him with all the intensity you can muster. Cause this is one way to leave a trace on this earth plane of ours… when you’re loved by thousands and hated by millions, you know that your name will be spelt across the horizon long after your ashes have been scattered on the wind. And, you’ve got to be content enough when you’ve managed to put a few catchy tunes in the mp3 players of the surfers from both the East and the West Coast… that feat alone is a major strife at immortality.