Geoff Tate's Queensrÿche - Frequency Unknown (2013)

I'll play the devil's advocate here in saying that I actually don't mind the defiant nature of the cover artwork on this disc. Hell, I would have gone further, removed the album title and band name, and flipped the fucking bird! The icon and acronym would have been enough. After all, if Geoff Tate wants to persist in his delusions, why not go into an all out mental meltdown! The problem is that he just doesn't go that extra mile, and that no matter how belligerent or 'in your face' he wants us to imagine he feels right now, this album is entirely incapable of roaring past the finish line. In fact, it whimpers even attempting to pass the starting line when the gun fires off. Sure, it's predictable that the primary force in Queensrÿche's creative demise over the past 20 years would issue a stinker of a solo album when left to his own devices, but the real crime here is that he has surrounded himself with a virtual 'choir' of talented guest musicians and singers and come up with such idle results...

I'm going to ignore getting into the absolutely idiotic decisions this man has made in recent times, because Frequency Unknown fails entirely on its own demerits, without any historical context required. It's more or less a revolving door of guest solos, vocals and other session performances that ultimately ends up a fairly weak production with a slew of forgettable songs that aren't about to change anyone's mind that this guy has earned himself the shorter straw. Surprisingly, while Tate has given the impression on numerous occasions about how he has moved on from the metallic years of his alma mater, he opens this with a pretty straight forward muted riffing piece in "Cold", as laconic and lazy as it ultimately proves. Almost as if he wanted to prove to the world that he could still rock hard, but sadly it devolves into a standard rock chorus no more poignant or interesting than much of what he's released over the past decade, and not even near the level of numbers like "I Am I" or "Empire" when his former band had started to wane, but still held on to that edge of relevance through strong record sales and loyalist fans. It's not the only instance, either, since you've got the tune "Slave" with its brief spurts of speed licks and groove metal, and then some truly awful groove metal in the track "Running Backwards".

But largely, Frequency Unknown drifts around in context from textural melodic rockers to other bland commodities that probably wouldn't break regulation-rock radio-space even in a time when they might consider supporting a washout pariah from a once-famous metal band. Riffs are abysmal, never standing out on their own and at best just vomit-soaked rehashes of tired ideas with no fire lit under their asses. Organs and other instruments are used to dress up the atmosphere, and the bass guitar bumps along with a very deep but digitized feel, but neither area is particularly compelling. Most importantly, the production of the album feels as if its been glued together from a patchwork of piecemeal recording sessions he had to put together just to accommodate all his guests, who hail from everywhere: Rudy and Robert Sarzo, K. K. Downing, Ty Tabor, Brad Gillis, hell even Chris Poland shows up for a lead on "The Weight of the World". Yet the power chords sound pretty unconvincing, the shuffle of the palm mutes mediocre, and the drama of power ballads ("Weight"... again) overwrought and having no definable payoff in terms of melody or structure. With different people playing in different songs, Tate has crippled any possibility of consistency, except consistently sucking.

I could only suffer through a lot of the numbers here due to my own self-constructed obligation to give the records I cover a minimum number of cycles to properly feel them out, and even then I was compelled to cheat. What's even worse are the gimped re-recordings of tunes from Operation: Mindcrime and Empire. There are four of these bonus tracks, and they utterly fucking blow, devoid of the solidarity and formative power of their original incarnations. I mean, listen to that woeful guitar tone on "Empire"? What the shit is wrong with you people? How could, in any ordered and rational, cold universe, ANYONE think that this was a good idea? Did you not listen to these things before releasing the album, and decide to yourself "yeah, people are going to have enough of a problem with the crappy new originals, we'd better leave these off". It's this sort of misinformed decision making process that contributes to how rushed and pathetic Frequency Unknown feels as a whole, and I really hope Tate gets the message when no one inevitably gives a shit...

But what of Tate? How has his voice fared through this new material? I'd consider this the equivalent of a live performance with 'the actual Queensrÿche' over these last 10 years. He still has his range, a few chops, but he's obviously not as seamless and ambitious as his younger self. That the vocals aren't the worst component of this record is to his credit, but no way in Hell are they strong enough to carry such a forgettable selection of songs, and even in the lead-off single "Cold" the chorus seems to evade my mind after mere seconds. I mean, I'm not going to completely toot the horn of the Todde La Torre-fronted, eponymous new album from Tate's former business partners, but compared to this it seems positively inspirational. Goddamn, Mr. Tate, if you ultimately wanted a clean break from this whole situation, you should have put out a Timbaland- produced pop album (like your fellow Washingtonian crooner Chris Cornell) or gotten a strong songwriter to come in and build some strong, supporting hard rock for your vocal assets... Frequency Unknown doesn't cut it. Seek help, go and listen to your 80s output, and plead for an inevitable reunion tour/album. Or at least pull a Halford Resurrection. With this sorry package/entourage, you've only flipped yourself off.

Verdict: Fail [2.5/10]

http://www.queensryche.com/

Queensrÿche - Queensrÿche (2013)

While I've already covered their discography at length, one of the points I don't think I've driven home was my disappointment in Queensrÿche's decision to 'shy away' from the metal genre, like a turtle retracting its head to avoid some sort of predator; this predator, of course, being the changes to the musical landscape in the 90s which leeched away a lot of the attention the metal and hard rock sub-genres had been enjoying for over a decade. Here was this colossus of a band, riding high off their career-defining masterpiece Operation: Mindcrime, and then suddenly 'whoosh', we were lucky to get a few tunes per album that were metal based (in theory). I know I'm not alone in wishing I could erase the vast majority of their post-88 discography from my memory. So when the drama surrounding the band erupted over the past few years, with Geoff Tate alienating himself from his band mates creatively and financially, and the others recruiting a new vocalist, Todd La Torre, who had himself been primed as Wade Black's replacement in Crimson Glory, I was also not alone in feeling a tinge of excitement in my disenchanted brain...

Would Queensrÿche, at long last, release the musical (if not conceptual) successor to Mindcrime that I had long fantasized and drooled over in some alternate dream-reality? The pieces were in place: the band had admitted their desire to return to the material that once excited their fanbase in the 80s. The new singer could more or less deliver a close impression of his forebear. Fuck, they even signed to Century Media, a label that (despite many missteps) still holds a fraction more 'metal cred' than the majors. And, last but not least, while they never abandoned 'the icon', here it returns to the forefront of attention with a clearly rusted, old metallic sheen to it that simply reeks of some nostalgic retrogression 'to form'. So, have they actually succeeded in sticking it to their old main man and launching the monumental comeback so many have craved? Well, yes and no. I'd be a fool to deny that this was better than anything they've put out since Promised Land, and it certainly arching back towards the metallic angles dominant on the first three records, but apart from its general sense of competence and an earnest attempt at sinking some hooks into a long-jaded audience, I can't say that it's a substantial triumph when acts like Angra and Pagan's Mind have already flipped its script and widened this medium's parameters to a breadth that the Washington rockers can probably never reach, hand in hand, with all their collective arms spread to the maximum.

What this record is, is a collection of glossy, polished, out-of-date progressive rock songs which do once in a while hint at some greater heaviness, but even then usually have to rely on more of a light grooving texture with a figment of crunchy tone than the trad metal leanings of The Warning. In other words, it's more or less a Promised Land or Tribe 2.0, including even a few of the Eastern rhythmic influences, where most of the meager riffing progressions take such a back seat to a showcasing of La Torre's range and ability that they'd might as well relocate to several vehicles behind them on the freeway. Granted, they hadn't really been a 'riff first' band since the Mindcrime years, but the guitars fused so atmospherically to Tate's arrangements that they were brilliant anyway. Oh, there's metal here, with tracks like "Redemption" and "Fallout" offering some 18-wheeler aggression and grooviness, but by this point we've already heard these sorts of riffs so many times in even harder edged glam rock that I just never found myself engaged. Ultimately, if you're expecting some sort of mind warping transition using the 80s as stock, or a progressive metal gem at all, then this is not the droid you're looking for. If you want an album that's more or less the same thing they've been peddling for the past 20+ years, then this is that, with a little more bite due to the new singer's conviction.

Now, since it's the question on everyone's tongue: yes, Todd La Torre is a healthy replacement for Tate, in part because his inflection is so similar (allowing him to 'slide' right into the earlier material), and in part because he's got a power to his lungs which his predecessor no longer seems fully capable of, but can also pull off the dramatic, sustained mid-ranged huskiness Tate had brought in the late 80s. Admittedly, Geoff is still a little silkier and smoother in delivery, but with decades of experience, he should be. La Torre pulls off a number of ace choruses, like in the opening rocker "Where Dreams Go to Die", and he's got a nice sustain when he layers on the higher notes, similar to Nils K. Rue (Pagan's Mind). But let's face it, he's really not that unique in a field that has already given us a Tate, a Midnight, a Tom Mallicoat (Lethal) or even a Michael Kiske. It's been done, and so La Torre is relegated more to 'holding the line' than improving or expanding upon it. It'd be a stretch to say that in a lot of the verses and a few of the choruses, he was doing anything more than going through the motions, because the supporting music is just not that inspirational...but I'd still green light his artistic visa to remain in the Ryche-ranks for years to come, until those group therapy sessions and inevitable reunion. Hey, Dickinson, Halford and Osbourne returned, so it's highly unlikely that Geoff Tate won't.

Otherwise, it's the same band we've been hearing for years. Eddie Jackson returns to the fat, propulsive bass tones here that occupy a great deal of space, while Rockenfield continues to hit hard through a selection of basic, but tribally-injected rock fills that lend that larger than life quality to the production. Harder rhythms have the requisite crunch, but there are still a lot of classic clean, chorused, ringing, sparkling strings that signal a lack of total commitment to going balls out, which frankly I would not have minded. They haven't gone heavily synthesizer based, with only a tangential keyboard presence, and there's still a lot more of a Rush lineage than Yes, but the atmospheres seemed to fade from my memory almost as soon as I'd heard them, a trait also typical of their last 7-8 records. The production is really loud and even, but even though I've no idea what software and equipment they actually used in-studio, it has a pretty 'pro tools' feel, if that makes any sense. Punch, volume, brightness and lots of space for seamless overdubs, but maybe a bit too tidy. I read that Wilton used a lot of his old amps to achieve the 80s/90s tones, but I certainly felt like this was an album recorded in various places at various dates, which it apparently was.

The short length of the disc (about 35 minutes) might shock some people, yet I really don't mind it. The intro ("X 2") and ambient interlude ("Midnight Lullaby") are entirely throwaway, but I realize some people even thought that way about the story-filler bits on Mindcrime. I guess I just wish that the 33 minutes of rock were far better written and prone to delivering stronger riffs and choruses. As it stands, I'm pretty lukewarm on Queensrÿche. It proves to me that, in a less diminishing capacity, the boys might still 'have it', but if so they are just not spewing it all over us this time around. A solid effort, and practically a masterpiece when compared to tripe like Q2K or Operation: Mindcrime II, but my hopes of this creating the magic I used to feel in their music of the mid 80s were dashed against the rocks in just the first few songs, and then never restored through the scant remainder of new material. Not bad, but with luck, in further warming up to this flexible and capable new frontman in their midst, they'll also challenge themselves to write and perform at the level they've long abandoned. This material is basically like they're toe-testing the jacuzzi's temperature. Dive right the fuck in. Don't be afraid to beat the shit out of us, Queensrÿche. We deserve it.

Verdict: Indifference [6.25/10]

http://queensrycheofficial.com/intro.cfm

Queensrÿche - Operation: Mindcrime II (2006)

Mindcrime II is the Hyde to the original's Jekyll. The Goliath to the original's David. Meatier and modern, but inferior in every plausible department. The songwriting sucks, the musicianship is nowhere near as impressive, and unlike its consistent and cohesive forerunner, the album feels more like an attempt to offer the more 'eclectic' Queensrÿche experience via 'open minded' and 'worldly' composition rather than a unified architecture. They might have gotten Pamela Moore to reprise her role as Mary for this, and the late Ronny James Dio to take over Dr. X, but neither can help compensate for the lack of Chris DeGarmo, and even mindless of the recent drama between Tate and the other members, through which it has been revealed that the band was not evenly invested in its creation (for this or the albums surrounding it). Worst of all, Operation: Mindcrime II reeks of some banal attempt for the band to execute a 180 back to the style that originally put them on the metal map...only this is, for the most part, manifest through the title alone.

Last weeks theoretical minutes from the meeting of a band that next to no one had cared about in a long time: Our star is long past rising, folks. In fact it's sinking faster than a ten ton turd in a swimming pool. How do we turn this around? Well, what's our best album? Empire, dude! *the band laughs, the management smirks* Well, then, Operation: Mindcrime, the rest of the members agreed in unison. Yeah, yeah, I dig it, claims the singer, stroking his chin while giving his best Sartre impersonation. I'm not really into that metal music bag anymore, but the kids seem to want it. I've a few ideas. We can make it even more 'street' than the original, and use real orchestration than just keyboards. We've got enough in the budget. But it can't sound like Tribe, say the rest. We need more metal elements again, like the old days. Yes, yes, the BRAND will rise again. We'll get some TV spots, and merchandise rolling pronto...lighters, headbands, and maybe even Dr. X tees. But, Geoff, you know we don't have Chris in the band now, right? Ah, shit, well let's just scrape it together, man. Pull it together. This is the Jesus Christ of undertakings. We are saved. Saved!

All supposition aside, though, it was really inevitable. I wouldn't have been surprised to discover that the band had thoughts of a Mindcrime II since shortly after the original. I'm sure they received countless fan requests for that very thing down through the years, the only question is why it didn't happen earlier? Very simply, because this band was more concerned with tapping into the commercial success of the original's followup, Empire, and took this imperative far beyond the reasonable, leaving us with a string of ineffectual refuse like Hear in the Now Frontier and Q2K. To their credit, the Queensrÿche of the 21st century does their utmost to make this a heavier effort than the 4-5 leading up to it. That's about as far as the album's successes take it: songs like "Re-arrange You", "I'm American" manage to evince more aggression than anything I can recall of Tribe or Q2K. The incorporation of the symphony also feels natural with the loud, abrasive production of the album, not unlike Judas Priest's weakly Nostradamus. Queensrÿche went big for this, pulling out all the stops, and attempting to conjure the grandeur they'd lacked for almost two decades.

Unfortunately, no one reminded the band that this effort would be entirely misspent without the great songs that defined the first Mindcrime, and what we've got is a fraction of mediocre rhythms buried in a hulking heap of underdeveloped feces. The riffs suck throughout, juvenile note progressions you'd hear from any rehearsal room anywhere in America where some axeslinger is just fucking around (not even planning to use them). The muddied guitar tone here lacks gravity and power beyond the visceral, and the band keep a lot of their alt rock and grunge influences patterns in play, a handful of tracks like "A Junkie's Blues" reminding me once more of something left on the cutting floor by the Stone Temple Pilots. Really, Mindcrime II seems to have no precise idea of what it wants to be. Some songs want to be rock, some metal, some rock opera ballads cashing in on the "Silent Lucidity" idea but falling well shy of that song's consistent catchiness. For example, the finale/duet "All the Promises", with Tate and Moore playing off one another in their respective characters, is laughable tripe; "If I Could Change It All" trying its hand at the spacious 80s Pink Floyd aesthetic (which Queensrÿche had used on the prior albums) and conjuring boring drama.

The whole album lacks the poignancy and domineering melody of the original, and instead feels like a group of festive old farts leaping around to a selection of raucous distorted rock riffs. Tate can still scream, he proves this in a few of the pieces like "Re-arrange You", or his duet with Dio in "The Chase", which is sadly supported by some of the most mediocre guitars on the record, but in general he seems like he's putting too much effect on his tracks to make up for a slightly diminished power to his delivery ("Signs Say Go", for example). That seamless clarity and pitch from Rage for Order and Mindcrime has unraveled, and beyond that, the melodies in his lines have little impact. There isn't a single chorus on Mindcrime II that I can say captured me whatsoever, never mind with the surge of urgency and emotion in a "Speak" or "Eyes of a Stranger". A lot of backup shouts are used in tracks like "Murderer?" to make up for the lack of a hook, but they just sound silly rather than the menace exuding from a lot of the tough guy gang core.

A few of the leads and melodies show a modicum of skill and harmony ("I'm American", "The Hands"), but they don't really jive with the rest of their surrounding tracks, and stand out like sore thumbs. Supposedly some of the guitars were re-tracked at the last minute by one of the assistant engineers on the records, so it's unclear exactly who is playing what throughout, and Stone and Wilton were clearly under utilized. I've also read that Scott Rockenfield was absent here. Regardless, whatever person is drumming here is hitting with the about the same strength under such a mire of creativity, but I actually didn't enjoy how loud he was compared to the guitars on much of the album. Jackson has some freedom here, and he does his best to ground the punch of the guitars and the dominance of the vocals, but really, there's no room for him to vastly improve on such a cruddy selection of note progressions.

Lyrically, though the first Mindcrime wasn't exactly poetry in motion, this still seems a step down, a tired series of cliches that one can experience in just about any rock or pop song. Again, a listener can displace most of the individual tracks from the concept and appreciate them for any personal relevance, but there were no clever phrases here that caught my attention. The story itself takes place nearly almost two decades after the first (equivocal with the gap between album releases), and it deals with the primary perspective character Nikki getting his revenge on Dr. X and struggling through a downward spiral that leads to conversation's with Mary's ghost and all this other typical nonsense. It never needed a sequel, the story as it plays out is all too predictable, and it might have been better just to leave the original alone, with a more ambiguous ending. Even if the sequel was fucking Faust-level Goethe quality, though, the music is middling garbage that did not deserve a release under this banner.

Operation: Mindcrime II is terrible, and even if I could muster no expectations towards it due to the band's record of mediocrity post-1994, it still arrived as a great disappointment. Because, really, that's that. This part of the saga is canonized, and it's never going away, like the memory of putting on vomit-soaked socks one hungover morning. It will stink forever and it will sting forever.

Verdict: Fail [2.25/10] (reasons are damned)

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Queensrÿche - Operation: Mindcrime (1988)

It would be remiss of me to think of Operation: Mindcrime as a mere album, because to me, personally, it has served more as an institution. Along with records like Port Royal and Somewhere in Time, both of which share a similar, airy eloquence in their production values (thank the 80s), this has become a monumental benchmark by which I've judged much melodic metal I've experienced since. In fact, if I myself was to be locked away in some remote gulag or asylum, stripped of my iPod, but allowed a mere car mirror CD visor worth of metal music to bring along, this would be guaranteed a slot. It's one of those rare cases of a record upon which I wouldn't propose a single alteration. If given the power to time travel and manipulate musical media, I wouldn't change a damned note on Operation: Mindcrime. It was, and remains in my estimation, flawless. Never broken. And never needing to be fixed. Or compromised by its own authors (but that, as they say, is 'another story').

However, despite its massive commercial success, and the endless landfill of praise and detraction that has been laid upon it through the ensuing decades, Operation: Mindcrime is not a record without some baggage, and this I would largely attest to conflicting perceptions of its conceptual merit. Queensrÿche's third full-length was not its first with a unified theme, but the first to really splay it out into a narrative rock opera involving brainwashing, political assassination, and a clear violation of doctor-patient confidence. The band hired on friends and actors to perform brief character roles, and they set it up with a number of briefer story vignettes to round out the metal tracks. For some listeners, this is a huge hurdle, but personally I rather enjoyed each of these pieces, not only for their value to the central theme, but also because of the clinical atmosphere and sense of gravity they lend to the story. They're also musical for the most part, with but one or two exceptions; for instance, "Anarchy-X" is a 90 second anthem with brazen guitars, dual leads and warlike drumming cadence that fully fits with the lengthier cuts. It's not like Pestilence's Testimony of the Ancients, where the interludes seem to be incorporated just for the sheer whim of experimentation. No, these pieces actually seem to belong to their surroundings.

Of course, one of the joys of this album is that it can actually be listened to in two ways: straight through the story sequentially, or by skipping the central narrative and appreciating each of its regular length tracks for their individual values. Some might contain snippets of samples or story, but the lyrics behind a tune like "Eyes of a Stranger", "The Needle Lies", "I Don't Believe In Love" could hold some relevance for a listener whether or not he/she gives two shits about Sister Mary, Father William, or Dr. X. Nor would it take a high intellect to be able to make an 'abstraction' out of "Suite Sister Mary" or the title track. Much has been said of how 'genius' or 'brilliant' the album's concept was. I myself was incessantly exposed to such praise in high school to the point that I couldn't stand it, joyous that, for once, the hairspray-drugged Poison and Bon Jovi crowd, and the male students chasing their tails, had invested themselves in an album of quality. But let's be honest: Mindcrime's story is an average psychological thriller at best. It's not a Gravity's Rainbow, or Foucault's fucking Pendulum. It doesn't have the same pulse pounding action and intrigue as Robert Ludlum's Bourne series. The twists and turns are fairly obvious, and the lyrical diatribe used to convey the tale is hardly complex or inventive prose. That said, though, so what? Compared to most of the driven being spewed upon the radio to glam fans, or the same half dozen issues being beaten to the floor by the more serious metal acts of the 80s, Operation: Mindcrime was indeed something special. Different.

What's more, the music itself is superb. Bearing aside the standalone intro and interludes, which I've discussed above, the level of composition on this album is far beyond that of its predecessors, and needless to say any of the miserable albums since. Tate and DeGarmo, Wilton, Jackson and Rockenfield create this monstrous admixture of melody, harmony, atmosphere, power and drama through a riff-set that even for its day would hardly be considered complicated or technical, and yet its impact is timeless. After a few cycles of the ten 'core' tracks, I have never been able to get them out of my head. Aesthetically, this is an album which walks the line between the mainstream hard rock sounds of its day and a slightly more progressive metal inclination. The writing is similar to Rage for Order, but with an exponentially superior polish and level of refinement. I mean, for fuck's sake, I like every single (complete) song on this album more than Rage for Order in TOTAL, and sitting here a quarter century after its release I can't hear a single flake of rust on this whole spectacle. Sure, you could 'date' this to the 80s, but three decades later I find it all too rare that I pick up any album which covers so many bases as this.

All five of the musicians deserve top honors for this feat, but I suppose, to start at the top: Geoff Tate. There is a reason this man built a legacy which brought him in firing range of legends like a Halford or Dickinson. Some consider the guy the greatest vocalist in the field, and you're listening to exactly why. His timbre is impeccable. His range, perhaps not limitless, but so fully utilized that he's the equivalent of a living siren. Had the sailors of antiquity heard this voice through the maritime mists, and changed course to find a naked, German-born man calling them to their deaths from a rocky outcropping, they would have questioned their own sexuality before hull breach and drowning. Higher pitched, inspirational and unforgettable pre-chorus and chorus sequences litter this record like lemmings a cliff-side, and he structures every individual line with skill and quality. Where he hits those highs in "Speak", or "Revolution Calling", or the eternally pleasing chorus to "Eyes of a Stranger", all 6'2", 220 lbs of burly, bald-headed, linebacker-like, (nearly) middle-aged me wants to break down into tears; partly because of the sheer level of emotion inherent in the melodies, and partly because I know I could never sing that beautifully in my entire life, with or without computerized assistance...Tate even excels when it comes to adding a playful or maniacal component to the verses, and his lower range is cautionary, moody and eloquent where it appears.

Yet the chords, leads, and rhythm section support his crystalline delivery brick by brick. DeGarmo and Wilton weave the sorts of gracious, burning melodies over the lattice of backing guitars that I so loved about a song like the Scorpions' "No One Like You". I must have spent hours in my formative years with the instrument scratching out the chorus melody to "The Mission", or the Maiden-esque, opening volley of "Speak" which is probably better than anything those same Brits wrote at their own peak. But the MVP award here might go to the rhythm guitars, which are muscular and spacious, whether chugging or hanging on an open chord. DeGarmo earned a paycheck for the next century with these riffs. If I were to dissect all of the album's central songs, or even "Anarchy-X" measure for measure, remove the drums and bass, the beautiful vocals, the subtle but effective synthesizers, each of the guitar progressions would be enjoyable by its lonesome. That proves just how well-composed this is, and in fact I can barely understand how they were able to arrive at such impressive riffs and vocal lines individually, both so glorious in tandem. The leads, too, are all wonderful, though they've got their work cut out for them to even ATTEMPT to live up to the other riffs and choruses that lead into them.

Jackson and Rockenfield should not evade mention, either, for while the ears might remain affixed to Tate and the guitar harmonies throughout Mindcrime, their steady pummeling is part of the appeal. Jackson's tone is punchy and plodding, especially for a lot of the mid-paced numbers where he's repeated such simple note sequences below the workmanlike gait of the guitars (reference "Breaking the Silence" or "I Don't Believe in Love" for a prime example). Rockenfield doesn't overdo anything here, as usual he gives a mightier than typical approximation of the standard rock beat, but he earns his signature steel cage, and those snare hits really drive home the emotional wait of each mournful chord sequence and palm muted mugging. Nothing too technical, which would feel arbitrary in the universal grasp of these songs, but it sounds like it must have been quite fun to lay these out. James Barton and the rest of the engineers did a knockout job of fusing the varied elements together, none ever too loud that they drown out another, despite the 80s proclivity for setting the vocals so high in the mix. Like the satisfaction of finishing a puzzle, everything seems to snap into place, even the less pronounced components like airy synthesizers and the vocal acting used for the intros/interludes. I still have my original CD copy, and it sounds unbelievable cranked up.

In terms of individual songs, there are no personal favorites, or to be more accurate, they are ALL favorites. I could not choose one over another, since the consistency of quality is omnipresent. Even comparing two of the most 'contrasted' neighbors on the playlist, the 11 minute epic "Suite Sister Mary" with its ominous, operatic choirs, overcast clean guitars, and varied, almost frightening arrangement; to the succinct power metal pummeling of "The Needle Lies", there is no lapse in fulfillment. I suppose the songs that were made singles are sensible, like the soul searing, climactic finale "Eyes of a Stranger" or the hard rock pleaser "I Don't Believe in Love", but even the more unsung entities "Spreading the Disease" and "Breaking the Silence" are better than anything most bands ever concoct in their entire careers. Lyrically, while the album serves to follow its character perspectives with a blue-collar rage, its perfectly cast to the music, and there are a number of unforgettable phrases throughout. 'Twenty-five bucks a fuck and John's a happy man', 'People always turn away from the eyes of a stranger', all great stuff that most of us can relate to.

Like any masterpiece, there will be opposition to a record like this. Hell, even the most recognized chefs attract roaches to their kitchens. Crunch. Operation: Mindcrime is an indisputable, indispensible cornerstone of the progressive/power metal field, even if most bands in this niche seem to take more direct cues from the wonkier Rush-like expressions of an act like Dream Theater. It might not be jammy or improvisational, or as nerdy sounding as Rage for Order, but it was blessed with an accessible edge that somehow managed to blow the lid off the band's potential audience, while not insulting the more underground sensibilities of the serious metal fan. It 'speaks to all of us', if you'll pardon the phrase. While its far from the first rock concept album (the 60s and 70s had some pretty heady stuff), or even the best of its type in 1988 (Voivod's Dimension Hatröss was more interesting, if not musically superior), it set the bar for many to follow it. In fact, it set that goal so high that its own creators have failed to match it since, even with the greater mainstream success of its follow-up Empire. That's the one 'down side' to Mindcrime. It won't happen again. Perhaps the album's narrative saga is not the most brilliant of ideas, but the music didn't get that memo.

Oh, and as for my teary-eyed confession above, well... I never wrote that. Never happened. Forget it. I'm sending someone over. I've got a job for you. Time to make something of yourself. Take this number and welcome to: da-neh-na-neeeeh.

Verdict: Epic Nun [10/10] (we've got so much to do)

http://queensrycheofficial.com/home.cfm

Queensrÿche - Q2K (1999)

Q2K beckoned forth the 21st century of Queensrÿche with a slightly more modern rock fixation than its two predecessors. One can still hear a bit of that 90s radio-alternative and grunge influence through what seems like a misplaced batch of B-sides for Hear in the Now Frontier or Promised Land. I shouldn't have been surprised, really, since this was the first full-length without Chris DeGarmo (his replacement was Kelly Gray), and he'd already contributed to the group's decline with the previous outing. I'll ignore the goofy title and the lame circuit board and icon cover, these guys had long been obsessed with the ramifications of technology in their lyrics: the music here needs no help in sinking to the bottom of the barrel, and Q2K is without any doubt one of the worst albums the band ever shoveled upon its audience.

Of course, the very notion of Queensrÿche as a proper 'metal' band was already a decade old. Bands like Tool were outpacing them in terms of base aggression and lyrical gravitas, but then they were never exactly comfortable on the heavier side of things, so perhaps its a moot argument. Rush's Counterparts is about as far as this record goes. At its limit, it's endowed with Pearl Jam style grooves ("Sacred Ground"), and deeper, thickened grunge paste riffing ("One Life") that attempts to contrast Tate's melodic business as usual. The problem is, none of the songs come anywhere near sticking to the listener's conscience. Even if I were to ignore the past and accept Queensrÿche as some sort of melodic rock band, they're still behaving like they belong deep on the bench. Second stringers at best. Just who is this for? Thirtysomething Goo Goo Doll and Soul Asylum fans pining for those college years in which they got laid to "Silent Lucidity"? As much as I might despise those other bands, they at least had the irritable characteristic of songwriting infectious enough to coerce millions of radio listeners...Q2K was nowhere to be found.

The best I can say for this is that Geoff Tate's voice still sounds reasonably well sharpened, though we were well past the point where he had anything new to offer. He syncs up well, loads of harmonies and piercing tones that would have sounded superb over an actual riff set worth a damn, but the band seems to think some reduced, rock & roll groove is squeak on by. Q2K practices a similar airy devotion to the rest of the band's 1994-2011 catalog, so you'll experience a lot of streaking melodies and tribal drum sets that would be better implemented on the followup (Tribe). To be fair, there are a few moments here, like the climax of "Burning Man" or the dreamy spaciousness of "Beside You" where the band does achieve the revelatory bliss you might recall from, say, Janes Addiction in the later 80s, but this comes through the arrangement alone, not from any particularly memorable vocal line or guitar progression, and thus the whole of the record is so painfully easy to forget. Production-wise, it's not a far cry from its nearest neighbors in the 'ryche catalog: clear, professional, pop-oriented, but just not as vibrant or effective as Promised Land.

While there weren't as many tracks here as its bloated predecessor, I have to wonder why, throughout 11 tunes (before re-issue bonus material), the band can't muster even ONE equivalent to something like "I Am I" or "Empire", at the very least. I'm not asking for or expecting Operation: Mindcrime level output, since that inspiration is clearly all washed up, but this is perhaps some of the most frustrating material they've released. The rockers rarely go anywhere, the softer tunes are meek, some of the lyrics are pretty awkward (I ain't no Romeo/I'm just the man for you, "Liquid Sky"), and you just get the sad impression that there is no more thunder down under, burning at this band's loins. After all, Hear in the Now Frontier might have just been a fluke, right? Any minute now, the band will return to form and shake this bullshit out of its system, right? Those were the questions this album posed, and we all know how they turned out. Were it not for the disgraceful disappointment of Operation: Mindcrime II, this would have nadir scrawled all over it in feces.

Verdict: Fail [2.5/10] (nothing seems to work as well)

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Queensrÿche - Promised Land (1994)

Promised Land is the last Queensrÿche record I can actually recall being excited for, or even having enjoyed, and to some extent it's the standard I hold up most of its successors to in terms of their comparative quality. I say this because, with few exceptions (Mindcrime II), most of the albums following it in their career have more or less attempted to copy its formula (Tribe coming the closest): balanced, melodic, and 'progressive' rock, occasionally getting mildly heavier, but usually not. That's not to say they were all conceptually influenced by this album, or precise clones, but clearly this was the benchmark, the blueprint from which they've continuously been drawing even though the audience have long since stolen their buckets off to wells elsewhere.

No, Promised Land is not on par with the more metallic Queensrÿche of the previous decade, but it's at least more solid than its predecessor Empire, and while it's readily accessible for all rock fans, the album doesn't feel like so much of a sellout. The music and production come first here, and both are vibrant and worldly, qualities I would not have thought of when listening through their earlier fare. In fact, if I'm basing the decision on just the mixing and engineering, then for sure this is their most beautiful full-length to date. The drums, the vocals, the bass and guitars are all prominent and brilliantly defined here. In those few instances where the band gets heavy (at least for Queensrÿche), you can really feel the emotion come out, despite the stark simplicity of the actual chords being used. Vocal arrangements are incredibly melodic, often crooning with such crystalline abandon that I am reminded of California's Lizzy Borden (in "One More Time", "My Global Mind" and a few others). What's more, this album manages to sound exotic, not only for the Eastern and tribal influenced percussion, cello and sitar progressions in the powerful single "I Am I", but even in the drifting, folksier Floyd-like pieces like "Bridge".

It's one of the few albums in my collection where I find myself forgiving of its power ballads, its numerous 'tender' moments, because they are very well written, whether it's "Bridge" and its warm everyman family appeal, "Out of Mind" with its tear wrenching chorus, or the sultry escalation of "Lady Jane". They don't quite shine as brightly for me as the soaring semi metallic anthems like "Damaged" or "Disconnected", the former with its pumping bass-lines, catchy and minimal chords and superb, rising vocal lines; the latter a lazy groove with a bit of Zeppelin influence and a mix of moody, lower ranged vocals and an almost funky/80s clamor. There are exceptions here, like the piano/vocal closer "Someone Else?" which I struggle to recall even moments after hearing it, but in general this is a tremendously focused and balanced effort, each of the members contributed hugely to its inspired swath of sound, whether it deigns to occasionally rock your face off or soothe and steady your troubled thoughts.

Since I'd rather erase its sad successors from memory than continuously suffer them, I often think of Promised Land as a personal 'last hurrah' for Queensrÿche. Granted, by 1994 the band was thriving off its name and its earlier hits, and despite solid sales (and high initial charting) this album didn't create quite the same stir as that before it, probably because it didn't possess a dreary-eyed prom ballad like "Silent Lucidity" for the 80s hairspray sect who gobbled that up alongside Warrant's "Heaven", Slaughter's "Fly to the Angels" or Extreme's "More Than Words". But fuck that crowd, because this is superior to Empire in all regards, and the thing sounds so gorgeous on most of my speakers that it doesn't even seem to have aged a day since its release. Producer James Barton truly killed it here. It's like the flimsy songwriting of Hear in the Now Frontier or Q2K done RIGHT, and would have made a great swan song to kick off a permanent vacation for the band...
 
Verdict: Win [8/10] (standing neck deep in life)

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Queensrÿche - Dedicated to Chaos (2011)

While Dedicated to Chaos reminds me eerily of Queensrÿche 1997 disappointment Hear in the Now Frontier, I have to give some credit for its unintentional undercurrent of comedy. One might conjecture that, after the sinking success of the band internationally through diminishing sales and fan outrage at titles like Operation: Mindcrime II or American Soldier, the Washingtonians would come to their senses, reevaluated the lousy decision making process that flushed them through the shitter, and turn this rig around. But rational thought and earnest self preservation are not qualities we could associate with this band until more recently: they were clearly mismanaged, artistically bankrupt, and still thriving off the trickle-down success of their name recognition. There was still a dwindling fraction of the fan base that held out some hope for the greatness of their Golden era. If Metallica, Judas Priest and Iron Maiden could (arguably) turn their sounds around to matter once more, then why not the one mighty Queensrÿche?

I do appreciate this album more than the two before it, but really, that's like saying I enjoy being kicked in the balls more than having those same 'nads crushed via mallet. It still sucks, I just found myself cringing that much less in the process of revulsion that defined my relationship to the band's discography post-1994. As I stated, it has quite a lot in common with their sixth album, but there seems to be a darker atmosphere here that weaves its way into the selection of chords and glaring melodies that dominate tracks like "Hot Spot Junkie" and "At the Edge". A few pieces, like "Higher" would not have seemed all that out of place on their overrated 1990 smash Empire. Tracks "At the Edge" and "I Take You" practice a lot of the dark, almost tribal rock grooves omnipresent on Tribe. The choruses seem to nudge themselves slightly beyond those of American Soldier, not sticky to the brain but not entirely unpleasant when you're thrust into their presence. The band also experiments a little more with more electronic sounds, though these are usually delegated to intros ("Drive") or brief sequences in songs, rather than overwhelming experimentation, a tactic that, frankly, would have made for a stronger record in the long run, even if it alienated them further from their roots.

Rhythmically, this is Hear in the Now Frontier with slightly more meat to the guitars on the front end of the record, Michael Wilton reliving and reconfiguring the mediocrity of the prior 14 years. The drums are decent, with a nice pop to the snare and a more muscled execution in the mix than recent records. Where Tate uses his voice atmospherically, as in "At the Edge", to spark off the ambient bridge sequence, Dedicated to Chaos, there are hints of something far more interesting, which he then proceeds to shit on in the ensuing seconds as Jackson's bass builds back into the track. In addition, the lyrics are so thoroughly embarrassing through this record that I found myself laughing out loud in at least half a dozen places. They range from the plebeian and uninspired ("Get Started") to sheer, misdirected comedy, like "Hot Spot Junkie" and its musings on the internet: "get some wave time, air wave time, this Wifi frenzy world". This isn't Queensrÿche's first cautionary flirtation with the repercussions of technology induced into civilization: Rage for Order was littered with them; but where that sounded genuinely concerned, this is just fucking silly, especially in how Tate's vocal patterns attempt to make this all seem 'sexy' in delivery.

Queue the 'Caberet' tour, and try very hard not to choke on your own vomit. Yes, read the lyrics to "Got it Bad" and then picture in your imagination Geoff Tate trying to create sexual tension on stage with a bunch of strip...I'm sorry, 'dancers'. Seriously, go watch a video of this, and then gouge out your own eyes. It's worse than that time Dani Filth was dancing around with the painted gargoyle gals on tour. In attempting to tap into the social or antisocial 'current' of the internet and its devices, a society saturated with instant access, limitless pornography, Facebook/Twitter bullying, and scandal, Queensrÿche ends up seeming treacherously dated and lame; coupled with the mundane and often inane level of musical composition, you've got yet another in a long line of stinkers from this once proud and infinitely promising group, seemingly incapable of figuring out what they themselves, or their audience could possibly want from their music. I've got a hint for you, Q-boys: it begins with an 'm', and ends with an 'l'. Good to see you finally work that out on your own. I'm sorry the realization did not dawn on you any sooner.

Verdict: Fail [3.5/10] (if we ever make it out alive)

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Queensrÿche - Hear in the Now Frontier (1997)

Have you ever found yourself in a situation in which you were exposed to a group of musicians suffering from a massive disconnect with their audience? Think back on the days of junior high or high school, where you might have been granted a 'concert recess period' in which some band of middle-aged cover rockers showed up play Beatles and Cream for an audience more concerned with Justin Bieber's latest tweets. Or perhaps you were at some holiday festival, where instead of hiring the younger hotness genre bands of your county, they wrangled up some wedding band who wanted to show their 'edge' and play Nirvana for the crowd? Hear in the Now Frontier is much like this, only if you were to magnify the sentiment tenfold and apply it to a well established act who had enjoyed immense popularity over the previous decade.

Much has been made of Queensrÿche's sixth studio full-length as their 'grunge' inflected work, or their 'coping with the 90s' sound in which they were attempting to stay competitive with the enormously popular indie to radio rock 'alternative' market (which itself had already begun to peak by the later half of the decade) reared on Lollapalooza. This is certainly true to an extent. Tracks like "Anytime, Anywhere" or "Miles Away" shoot for vapid, uninspired heavy rock riff patterns redolent of the Stone Temple Pilots or any of the other hangers on of the whole Seattle vibe. But I think, viewing the album as a whole, it's far more of a hearkening back to the band members' own roots in classic rock. I can hear a lot of Beatles, for instance, in the vocal arrangements and general pop attitude of the music. Perhaps some Cream, or non-metallic Black Sabbath in the bluesier elements that permeate the guitars. Certainly Pink Floyd finds its way onto a track like "Some People Fly" or "All I Want", the latter of which boasts a surprise vocal spot from none other than Chris DeGarmo, which is competent if nowhere near so powerful as Tate. But you really get a sense Hear that Queensrÿche was continuing to distance itself from the metal foundation that built its audience and industry support net, even further than Empire or Promised Land...

To put it bluntly: I was not on board for this flight, and neither were many other Queensrÿche fans. Sure, with the incendiary commercial success of Empire, and its higher quality successor, this album was bound to push units on its name brand alone, but I was stunningly disappointed with what manifest here, from the limpid Jars of Ears generic progressive rock cover art (Rush pass on this one?) to the music itself, which at best is inferior, throwaway radio rock uninspired that I felt myself longing for even a return to the glories of the harder songs on the previous album like "I Am I". Usually, a band evolves through its career but retains trace elements of its formative, rugged youth, but I'd honestly find it impossible to connect this with something like The Warning or Operation: Mindcrime if it weren't for Tate's smooth, melodic vocals. In all fairness, he still seems to put some effort into his arrangements, and the range is still there, but he so rarely flexes his pipes since they'd seem at odds with the boring rock being performed by the band. The lyrics run through the usual gauntlet of social relations, introspection, aging, and they're not entirely shabby: the real problem is that the album lacks even a single, distinct and staggering chorus sequence...

A few of the harder, grooving guitar rhythms, used at their best in "Hit the Black" or "Get the Life" seem like they might have been mildly engaging for a group like STP or Alice in Chains. Wilton and DeGarmo use a huge tone with a lot of low-end to amplify the grooves, but the actual patterns of notes become tired even after a half dozen repetitions, and add to this the fact that the drums usually move at two speeds: slow and simple tribal thunder to mid-paced rock. Even where Rockenfield is hitting as hard as possible, the very banal nature of the music just doesn't lend itself to much percussive excitement, and once again Eddie Jackson is just sort of plumbing along below the guitars without much personality to his own choice in lines. The production is comparable to some of the sounds Rush was using on its 90s output, fluid and crystal clear, a cushioned seat for just about anything the band are willing to mete out, but it's just one of those albums which had me scratching my head as to who its intended to impress (only a few seconds in "You" with the higher pitched, counter rhythm guitars remind me of the 80s 'Ryche I so adore.)

This also turned out to be the first in a long series of quickly stagnating sounds and poor choices the band would pursue over the course of 15 years, before the recent split in 2012 (Tate going solo, the rest of the roster replacing him to return to their metal roots). There is not one album post-Promised Land that I can honestly say I enjoyed, so Hear in the Now Frontier serves like a flagship or herald of diminishing relevance and misery. It's a weak album in just about ever department outside of its studio sound. Sterile songwriting that should have been relegated to a side project or 'solo album' for one of the members. Gone are the epic overtures and ambitions of the 80s, replaced with snugly vapor-rock for sad, aging men. To even think back on this disc fills me with emptiness and bafflement at who thought it was a good idea.

Verdict: Fail [3.25/10] (has the captain let go of the wheel?)

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Queensrÿche - Empire (1990)

I'm not sure whether Queensrÿche's members were caving into the pressure that their own mounting success might have constructed, or if outside forces like their record label and management team asserted themselves a bit strongly on the group's decision going forward from Operation: Mindcrime; but Empire, the fourth full-length, was the first of their albums which didn't feel as if it were a step forward. Rather, this was some horizontal maneuver into a more friendly and secure realm of radio-targeted hard rock, and I can recall an immediate disappointment, as I was hoping they would take the level of ambition wrought for their 1988 magnum opus into an even more magnified, complex direction which elevated their musical chops and perhaps even retro-evolved with some more aggressive content redolent of their earlier records, fused to the glorious songwriting and chorus strength of Mindcrime.

That's not to imply that Empire is the worst note in the strident and disheveled legacy band has built unto the 21st century, but it's a clear downturn from its impressive predecessor, and even at best, it seems like it was attuned to same the Gold and Platinum defining hard rock audience obsessed with Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, the Scorpions, and other arena-packing leviathans of the late 80s, more so than the prog nerds who enjoyed the two albums prior, or the leather savages lusting after The Warning Pt. II. Queensrÿche had taken a taste of the bubbly with hits like "Eyes of a Stranger" and "I Don't Believe in Love", and now they wanted a larger slice of the vineyard, which they certainly acquired with this album. I'm not going to lay this all at the feet of the frustratingly catchy sissy-ballad "Silent Lucidity", a song that infested my high school years and the ensuing decade through countless overplay on imagination-lacking video and radio channels, High School proms, and music lessons for aspiring vocalists who were tired of aping "Stairway to Heaven". No, really the whole of Empire is ridden with flimsy rock songs, and it seems to lack the unified themes threaded through the earlier full-lengths, not that I mind Queensrÿche decision to step away from the concept album, I only wish they had made it...well, a little more metal than this. Translation: a lot more.

As soon as "Best I Can" rolled out of my speakers as a teen, I was stranded in some sort of nebulous cross-worlds of Rush and Van Halen, the one distinguished difference being Tate's familiar cries. I've got no problem with those bands at their prime, but compared to the emotional and inspired gauntlet the 'ryche had run me through just a couple years prior, this seems like vapid audio vaporware, posi-cock-rock wearing a great big happy face. There are still some muscles to DeGarmo and Wilton's guitars, this isn't a complete 180 from Mindcrime in terms of tone and style, but until at least the bridge vocals and their pulsing undertow, there isn't much of interest to this song, no dramatic and mind spiking chorus despite the crystalline, clean delivery of the vocals and guitar melodies. More successful is "Another Rainy Night (Without You)", with its woozy, driving chorus, bumping Eddie Jackson bass-lines and strong note progressions; and the title track "Empire" itself which is the heaviest song on this album with its gang, race and corruption related lyrics and an exquisite chorus harmony that has Tate stretching his pipes to appreciable ends; but even the latter is goofed up a little with the lower pitched speaking the man disperses through the more majestic moments.

Otherwise, there aren't many tunes in place here that stir any response from me whatsoever, which was a real shock considering what an earection (apologies in advance) I sport for its predecessor. "Della Brown" is wimpy overpolished cubicle rock. "Anybody Listening?" is like a weaker back-up power ballad for the more fetching "Silent Lucidity", with a ballsier, electrified chord chorus; and other tunes like "Hand on Heart", "One and Only" and "The Thin Line" were entirely forgettable. "Jet City Woman" and "Resistance" had a few classy components, but they're just not strong enough to singe themselves deep into my conscience. This was a hot, hot record upon its release, and I couldn't escape it through anything less than a complete suspension from my teenage academics, but so much of it seemed watered down for mass consumption, and frankly it's become their most dated sounding record, even moreso than the synthy, divisive sophomore Rage for Order. Clearly there was some strong composition still coursing through the band's veins. You don't come up with something so sugary sweet and catchy as the clean guitars or orchestration for "...Lucidity"  by sleeping on the job...

...but unlike Operation: Mindcrime, on which I never felt a single note was out of place or less effective than the next, this material seems inconsistent in its ability to stick. The production is spiffy, clean and safe for the whole family, with a lot of glimmer to the clean notes dancing alongside Tate's melodies, but the rhythm guitars never pack that much of a punch, even in "Empire". Rockenfield is still hitting hard, but he just sounds so clean on this album that you could have almost replaced him with a primitive drum machine and gotten a comparable result. Guitar melodies are strong, as in "Another Rainy Night" or the intro to "Resistance", yet there aren't enough of them that burrow themselves inside my cranial meat and lay their parasitic progeny. Hell, even the cover art seems bland this time, the band's icon against a black backdrop with yet another indecisive 'logo' and some chic, corporate block-text that would have been better served in Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation. Granted, Empire wasn't the first Queensrÿche album to flirt with a then-modern, sleek safe for work rock sensibility, but Rage for Order was far stranger, with better lyrics, more compelling subject matter and quirkier choices of instrumentation; it had a looser, more experimental appeal than this.

Empire doesn't suck. It's got a few strong songs, and the music and lyrics do exhibit a modicum of effort, but this was clearly the first symptom of the Washingtonians' slide into creative poverty that would define the next few decades of their continued careers. There are about 15-20 minutes here which I'd consider to approach par with the earlier Queensrÿche. The remainder is a mild and mediocre kowtow to the grazing masses while they waited for the next Hall & Oates record. Letdown central. Naturally, it's gone triple platinum (at least) and is their most financially successful venture.

Verdict: Indifference [6.25/10] (game point, nobody wins)

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Queensrÿche - Tribe (2003)

Tribe is the sole 21st century Queensrÿche studio effort to date which does not immediately induce nausea and disappointment, a testament to the album's cohesive vision and the obvious confidence manifest through Chris DeGarmo's rekindled involvement in the group, as short term as it would prove. At once, the music has a more positive and inspirational quality about it which doesn't feel like its dragging its knuckles behind the success of the Empire album. There are no cheap ploys to reenact a "Silent Lucidity", and the 'tribal', far Eastern incorporation of melody and percussion coursing through the rhythm section presents a worldly and distinct Queensrÿche which seems far more loyal to the band's ideals of progression and expansion than the sagging ennui of records like Hear in the Now Frontier or the laughable Q2K. Had Tribe been the album that followed up Promised Land in around 1996-1998, perhaps it would have cushioned the group's fall unto irrelevance...

That's not to say that I think this is necessarily a 'good' album, and Queensrÿche was still quite distant from a point at which it could muster the chops and chorus strength of its 80s fare, but Tribe is at least soothing and complacent to its average songwriting, and the ideas here aren't unworkable. The lyrics are largely the product of life-affirming, globe-spanning introspection that many of the band's more humble fans might not be able to relate much to; either that, or a shared midlife crisis which they could. Beyond that, though, they are not poorly composed, and there is enough imagery cast about in the verses to exhibit some effort in their composition. Cliches are often paired up with more unique prose, as in the very first verse on the album: 'You're an angel with your wings broken, wearing sandals that I tripped in/You're a holiday already taken, a cocktail that's stirred never shaken.' Also, as one finds so often in radio oriented highest bidder pop music, the chorus lyrics are pretty bland, since the band figures you'll be more attentive to the actual melody of Tate's voice than what is being said. Not that Queensrÿche was ever the haven of expert wordsmiths, but where "Eyes of a Stranger" gave me chills, this record couldn't even summon a goosebump.

Musically, Tribe exists at this crossroads of airy progressive rock circa Promised Land or Hear in the Now Frontier, infused with a more eclectic array of Rockenfield's percussion, and an almost groove metal subtext during its 'heaviest' moments, which are not exactly very heavy. You can certainly make out Chris DeGarmo's presence, since several of the note progressions hearken back to that haunting breadth of the 80s, and he loves to just let some atmospheric series of chords ring out against the drums and bass, but the harder, slight grooves that fuel tunes like "Open", "Tribe" or "Desert Dance" would not be entirely out of place on a Tool record, so much of the aggression here, where it exists, is borne more out of the 90s than the band's own 80s efforts like The Warning or the eponymous EP. This isn't necessarily an unwelcome strategy for the Washingtonians, who are attempting to keep themselves fresh and not entirely lose that metal undercurrent which won them their career; but at the same time, it renders Tribe immune from any tangible sense of intensity. They never sound pissed, or petulant, and this limits the emotional range of the album.

Other issues I took with Tribe were the lack of spectacular chorus vocal melodies, and the presence of some lamentably generic, escalating chord patterns that any listener will have heard a few hundred times before (at least). For instance, "Losing Myself" throws away a curious, uncanny verse segment for a totally pathetic "Higher Ground" style chorus which is lazy and ineffectual. "The Art of Life" builds a busy enough momentum and then...never really goes anywhere. Acoustic ramblers "Rhythm of Hope" and "Falling Behind" have a great tone, but once the band electrifies for the chorus, they just don't deliver the expected money shots. It's a shame, really, because Geoff Tate is technically in fine form through the album, keeping busy through "Desert Dance" or "Tribe" itself across numerous harmonies and interchanges, but once they hit those presumably climactic points of the songs, they feel stubbornly unsticky, occasionally tragic and lame (like the jumpy white man's hip hop bit that closes out the chorus of "Desert Dance"). The only tunes here which stood out to me were "The Great Divide", for the strong flow of the moody, oft bluesy guitars, and the closer "Doin' Fine", which sounds like something Rush might have written for a 90s record, with a few decent chord choices in the chorus that bring it all together.

I also dug Scott's drumming in "Losing Myself", "Tribe" and elsewhere. Again, it's pretty reminiscent of Danny Carey from Tool, but the fills and steadiness match well with the aesthetics Queensrÿche wanted here; if only the riffs and vocal melodies would had chosen to more fully capitalize on his foundation. One area in which I could find no fault was the production, as clear as day. The guitars were dense and chuggy enough where they needed some weight, and graceful enough elsewhere, especially on the slightly distorted tinge in "Blood" or "Desert Dance", and the bluesy, wistful leads work well in flushing out the atmosphere. Jackson's bass is ample and flood-written, but otherwise he's not much of a presence throughout most of the record, with the exception of a few choruses (like "Desert Dance") where he veers away from the guitar. On the whole, Tribe was not a complete embarrassment. It was certainly the strongest record they'd released in almost a decade, and it's superior to what they've put out since, but it's not without its own flaws that place it well below the threshold of quality the band had established in their early win streak with DeGarmo.

Verdict: Indifference [6/10] (held the starlight inches from my face)

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Queensrÿche - Live Evolution (2001)

Like the others I've covered, Queensrÿche's Live Evolution was released in both pure audio and audiovisual formats. However, unlike Operation: Livecrime or Mindcrime at the Moore, the set list here was accumulated over two nights and ran the gamut of the band's material to that date, with a strong selection from their earlier records like The Warning and Rage for Order. It does seem a little redundant to her a half dozen Mindcrime tracks on this, since Operation: Livecrime scratched that itch enough for a possible lifetime, but I wouldn't say that their presence fails to contribute to the overall experience, and I rather like how the material is almost presented chronologically across the two discs, showcasing the band's 'evolution' implicit in the title.

However, of the three live albums I've experienced from Geoff Tate and his...alma mater (hopefully not forever), I think certain elements of the performance here are the sloppiest and least pleasing among them. The guitars are strong and workmanlike here, and Rockenfield is caught hammering away on par with the other records, but I felt like the vocals and backing vocals in tunes like "Walk in the Shadows" simply weren't at their apex of quality. Tate manages the harmonies wonderfully, but seems to squawk or lose a fraction of volume in spots throughout the performance. Also, I had an issue with the strength level of the rhythm guitars in tunes like "Another Rainy Night", which felt drier and wimpier than normal. Once the band breaks into the Operation: Mindcrime medley, they include a lot of the brief vignettes that were used as ligaments to the full-length tracks, and presented here on this double live with all the rest of the albums' material I don't think this choice makes a lot of sense...these have nothing to offer in this context.

Still, it was cool to experience a few of the tunes I enjoyed form the '90-94 period like "I Am I",  even if they're not as great as I'd imagine they could be. This album definitely feels 'grander' than the other live albums, if only due to the level of audience response captured and the more cavernous resonance of the recording; though it was recorded at the Moore Theatre like in Seattle like the later Mindcrime at the Moore, this has an arena feel to it reminding me of a lot of festivals and tours in the later 80s/90s. I haven't actually watched the video version of this one, so I can't offer up anything by way of comparison, but I'd have to say that Live Evolution is skippable unless you're absolutely obsessed at the notion of experiencing early cuts like "Queen of the Reich", "Screaming in Digital" and "The Lady Wore Black". I like most of these tunes in their studio incarnations, but they're not optimum sounding here, and combined with a few of the 90s songs on the second disc, which I could give a shit for, it's just not a fulfilling overall effort, though it does have the far broader range in its set choices.

Verdict: Indifference [5.75/10]

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Queensrÿche - Mindcrime at the Moore (2007)

I wanted to review Mindcrime at the Moore simultaneously with its spiritual predecessor, Operation: Livecrime, since they essentially provide the same service to the Queensrÿche fan, a complete live performance of the group's popular Operation: Mindcrime album in full, separated by the span of about 16 years. The caveat is that this release also features the album's sequel, Operation: Mindcrime II in all its own...err...glory on stage. My original reaction to these albums was like night and day. Loved the original, but almost completely hated its successor, so needless to say I was not much interested in hearing it in the live setting, more curious as to how the older songs would hold up after nearly two decades.

Like Livecrime, this has been released in both audio and video formats, the former a 2 disc spread with each 'chapter' occupying its own, and the latter shows the group prancing around the Moore theater in the band's home territory of Seattle, Washington. If you've watched Livecrime, you'll note that this has a more 'street' feeling to its presentation rather than the arena rock atmosphere there, with purplish bricks in the background and a lot of purple/blue lighting in general. The stage seems a little more tight here, but in both cases the band had plenty of space to move around, so I'd say that their 'presence' was adequate. With the exception of guitarist Mike Stone, this is also the original Queensrÿche lineup, with Pamela Moore once again guesting as Sister Mary, and Ronny James Dio showing up to perform his part as Dr. X on the song "The Chase" from Mindcrime II (which I'm guessing is impetus enough for a lot of folks to check out the record, even those who could care less about the primary band responsible).

I admit, I was expecting this record to suck pretty hard, but the performances of the original Mindcrime material do hold up rather well. The guitarists mete out pretty clean renditions of the rhythms with an added bite to them that differentiates them from the earlier live album, but they still sound rather accurate. Tate is not quite himself from the 80s, and he does seem to shrivel a little when he's attempting his higher pitch, but let's be fair: he's a lot older here, and he still does a pretty bang up job. Moore is still herself, adding a little sass and self-groping to the sausage fest on the stage. However, when Tate lurches into the more narrative bits like the end of "Spreading the Disease", it comes off a little goofier than on the original album, largely due to the gulf in years and relevance. Jackson and Rockenfield sound themselves, which is to say they implement their roles incredibly well, and overall the balance of all rhythm instruments is a little closer than Livecrime, where the leads could lash out rather loudly like the vocals. Ultimately, though, I think I really preferred the production of the original, it just felt larger than life and well suited to its times, where this environment (aural and video) seems more constrained.

Also, since I didn't care about the material much on the sequel album, the second disc did very little to change that fact. It's great to hear Dio and Tate, two of the premiere metal sirens, dueling out their roles in "The Chase", but the music is still pretty bland and the lines not as catchy as I would have hoped. I did like that they included an encore of "Walk In the Shadows" and "Jet City Woman", both superior to any of the Mindcrime II tunes. I have to wonder though...Tate seems pretty enthusiastic through the performance, to the point that I have to question the modern opinion that he's sick of playing all the old material. His pipes might have rusted up a fraction, but he's clearly having a good time with it, and this rubs off on the product as a whole: it seems more like a genuine tribute to the audience more than a shallow attempt at profiteering on nostalgia. Combine this with the substantial amount of material involved, and that Queensrÿche do not fuck up too noticeably in nearly 2 and a half hours of performance, and you've got a solid product. Not as good as Livecrime, but better than anything else the band has put out since the early 90s. I wouldn't advise paying for the audio CDs alone, go for the DVD release, which isn't a shabby addition to your collection.

Verdict: Win [7/10]

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Queensrÿche - Operation: Livecrime (1991)

Being that Operation: Mindcrime is hands down one of my favorite metal works created by human hands (Alpha Centauri metal would be another matter entirely), I naturally had huge expectations for its live interpretation, released a few years later in both video and audio formats, the former of which I would recommend slightly more so than the latter, since you're getting the full experience and the group manages not to cock it up in the slightest. In fact, listening through this (and watching it) is almost a melancholic experience, because here was a band on top of the fucking world, pent up with talent and creativity that brought them into the living rooms of an audience well beyond the metal/hard rock bounds. The pinnacle of Queensrÿche, selling up instead of selling out.

This was recorded in Wisconsin in 1991; so even after Empire had been released to great financial returns, the band realized the magnitude of this album and the fans' desire for having these songs at the gigs. It features the full classic lineup of the group, and a number of others contributing character voices (including the lovely Pamela Moore, who provides the definitive Sister Mary in studio and on their tours). The tracks are in the same sequential order as the studio album, and the production quality is immense. Apart from the subtle differences one might expect at a live performance, like subtle crowd chatter and slightly less polished vocals and instrumentation, Livecrime is spot fucking on to the point that it's almost indistinguishable. And if you've seen the video version, you'll know that they're not standing still like a cluster of paperweights to ensure the pristine delivery of the songs. Tate is constantly pacing around in his lovably laughable 80s attire, and the rest of the band really feeling out the set list.

The rhythm guitars might come off a fraction more subtle, the vocals and leads a bit louder in contrast, but you can really make out Eddie Jackson's plunking, and Rockenfield abusing his kit with about as much integrity as you could expect over the relatively simplistic structures of the songs. I can only imagine how psyched a fan of Mindcrime would be to hear it all splayed out with such perfection, since the performances I had seen back in the day involved a mix of material from several of their albums. That said, even without the advantage of 'being there', I have to say Operation: Livecrime is the best set I've witnessed from the band. Every track just as fluid and flush as you could dream up, and since it involves all of my favorite tunes, it's a pleasurable 64 minutes of affirmation. Granted, I wouldn't mind had the band included another disc with the non-Mindcrime material, especially selections from The Warning or Rage for Order, but you really do get what you pay for, and this is precisely as it was advertised. My only downsides would be to grab the DVD instead if you can find it, because the performance works better assaulting multiple senses than just listening through the audio in your car; and those who prefer a live album to experiment more with the song structures and permit some looser jamming might find this too streamlined. But otherwise, a top shelf live effort here, standing alongside Live After Death and Unleashed in the East in quality.

Verdict: Win [8.75/10]

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Queensrÿche - Take Cover (2007)

It's one thing when you've got some upcoming band releasing a covers album of groups that influenced them, or participating in a tribute to a single artist with others of a like mind. Or even when an established act performs some rip roaring rendition of a classic and tucks it onto an album amongst originals. But hearing a (once) commercially successful outfit like Queensrÿche tackle an eclectic selection as they do here is always a risky proposition, and Take Cover's few worthwhile tributes simply do not compensate for all the missed opportunities and bland rock reductions of tracks that once possessed a spark of actual life in their earlier incarnations. Like British pop royals Duran Duran, whose 1995 collection Thank You celebrated a surprising assortment of influences in a very shitty way (nonetheless charting on Billboard), Take Cover is largely inconsequential and unmemorable, especially coming from a band whose prime era of creativity is itself covered quite often.

If one was hoping Queensrÿche was about to reach back through history and grab itself by the balls and rip out a record of metal tracks, then they will be sadly disappointed with this album. Apart from the limp but passable version of Sabbath's "Neon Knight", which has been covered more times than the news of JFK's assassination by this point, this is largely drawn from the band's 70s and 80s rock influences. I doubt too many people would be surprised that they take on Queen, Pink Floyd, or The Police, all of whom played a part in the Qs' creative inspiration from about 1986 to the present, but of these only Floyd's "Welcome to the Machine" worked for me, since Queensrÿche deal well in that same sense of spatial, open atmosphere that defined the original. I was actually more satisfied with the songs I just wasn't expecting, like Peter Gabriel's "Red Rain" which doesn't actually sound all that bad with some heavier guitars, and Tate's timbre transforms it into a sort of Gothic rock aesthetic. U2's "Bullet the Blue Sky" is presented in a raucous and loud live format which fills out its 10+ minutes nicely, and Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth", one of the least expected tracks, is at least catchier than most of the humdrum acoustic rock Tate and his former cronies were ferreting through the 90s and 00's.

Most of these, discounting the live cut, are rendered in the polished, fat production the band had been using for their own albums in the years leading up to Take Cover,  pop and radio oriented and not exactly screaming with the addictive energy this band has so desperately lacked. If I'm to give Queensrÿche any credit here, it would be that they seem to make these tunes their own, thanks to Tate's unique presence. Aside from the thicker guitar tone, though, they don't deviate far from the originals, but on something like "Almost Cut My Hair" (Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young) or the rocked up Jesus Christ Superstar staple "Heaven On their Mind", they've managed to transform something naturally alien to their usual sound into a piece that might flow well in a live set alongside Promised Land or Tribe cuts. In short, Take Cover is adequate, seasoned gentlemen covering safe bets, but its hardly inspirational and in no case would I ever deign to experience any of these over their originals, even to compare and contrast. This isn't entirely awful, but neither is it worth much unless you're the sort of Queensrÿche lunatic that just can't say no.

Verdict: Fail [4.75/10]

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Queensrÿche - Sign of the Times: The Best of Queensrÿche (2007)

I'll preface this review by stating that Sign of the Times: The Best of Queensrÿche is the only Queensrÿche collection potentially worth spending real currency for, and even then that comes with the condition of finding it available at an extremely bargain price (I'd set $2 US as this price, $3 if you're feeling generous). If its predecessor, Greatest Hits was released during a dead zone in the band's popularity, a decade beyond its potential relevance, this was put out during an almost 'inverse' point in their career. Yes, the Washington group had been so mediocre for such a long spell that they were in arrears to the creative whole of humanity; and their disenfranchised fan base wanted desperately to collect on this qualitative songwriting bankruptcy.

The obvious solution to this conundrum: re-release a bunch of songs from when people actually gave a whit about your band. And for the first of two discs in this collection, that is precisely what Queensrÿche would do. Once more, the tunes are presented in a semi-sequential order to their release (meaning a few of them are scrambled, but it largely followed the flow of time). The problem is that almost all of these songs are the same that were selected for Greatest Hits, with the exception that a few have been omitted ("Empire", for one) and others added from releases more current to 2007, like "All the Promises" from the pathetic Operation: Mindcrime II. The one arguable obscurity among these choices is "Until There Was You", a song from the 2006 re-issue of Q2K, but this is one of the most bland and sorry excuses for a song in the group's career. Seriously: take any random song from Hootie & the Blowfish. Remove Darius Rucker's vocals, and add in Geoff Tate crooning like an ass who hasn't realized his radio share post-"Silent Lucidity" royalties had decreased significantly, and you've got a vapid and dry 'emotional' tune fit for your dogs bowl.

Luckily, these 80 minutes of primarily rehashed rehash are joined by a second CD that contains close to 70 minutes of odds and ends that span the group's career in the 80s and 90s. The raw, rugged demo renditions of early album tracks like "Take Hold of the Flame" and "Before the Storm" are charming and serve as a dreadful reminder of how promising the band once was, and what they might have continued to create if they hadn't stuffed their heads up their asses in a failed attempt to constantly recycle songs like "Silent Lucidity" in an endless procession of wimpy whining. There are some unplugged and acoustic performances of "Della Brown" and (obviously), "Silent Lucidity", though I was more surprised (and impressed) by the acoustic remix of "I Dream in Infrared", which keeps the drums and vocals but changes up the guitar tone, and still manages to function. I realize this, and a lot of the other b-sides here previously released on reissues; for instance, "Chasing Blue Sky" was even available on Greatest Hits, and "Last Time in Paris" on the Adventures of Ford Fairlane soundtrack (and elsewhere), but for someone who never spent the time obsessively tracking down the band's singles and only owns the original albums, then there is clearly some value to this half of the collection.

Still, I can't help but wonder that Queensrÿche must have dozens of reels of unreleased songs, and Sign of the Times could have been presented as a true love letter to its audience, with two full discs loaded with rarities and demos, and been infinitely more worthwhile. Hell, they could have attempted to release it with their Take Cover album (also put out in 2007) as the first disc, then offered maybe a digital version of the compilation for free with each purchase, and generated more interest and sales. And then, to top it off, written a metal album again instead of American Soldier, reaffirming their relationships as a band and to the fans that made them in the first place, and avoiding all of the recent drama. But, you see, that would have ACTUALLY MADE SENSE™, a taboo for bands and labels who want their poor audiences running forever in the same hamster wheels. As it stands, Sign of the Times is saved from utter shittiness by the second half of the collector's edition, but it could have been so much more...

Verdict: Indifference [5/10]

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Queensrÿche - Greatest Hits (2000)

There are likely a dozen or more Queensrÿche compilations in circulation, some official and some just the same licensed tripe that most mainstream rock bands from the 70s-90s churned out and continue to churn out in the name of recycled profit. As part of my pilgrimage to revisit the progressive metal titan's backlog, I'll only be covering the two I've had exposure to, beginning with Greatest Hits, which was released near the dawn of the new century, the band's icon hovering proudly  against a cloudy sky in a timeless posture which presumably represents the strength of the material included. And, more or less, this is indeed a collection of the band's highest selling singles, so there is no falsehood in its advertising...the question is, does this hold any value for the long suffering Queensrÿche fan?

Not really. If you were, say, a rare teenager during the early 'oughts who had an interest in 80s hard rock or metal with progressive tendencies, and weren't just rabidly downloading and consuming all the albums available to you, and had heard of this Seattle mainstay and desired an introduction, then Greatest Hits might have satisfied you. Most of the songs are quite good, being that they are drawn primarily from the band's classic material ranging from the eponymous EP (1982) through Hear in the Now Frontier (1997), the latter of which is the point at which my own interest in the group's output had completely dropped off. The material is presented chronologically, with about 2 cuts per record (3 for their most popular effort Empire), and in all honesty this allows one to follow the band's develop through the more traditional power metal roots through their conceptual explorations and, ultimately, watering down into a more melodic and rock inflected project. Necessities like "Queen of the Reich", "Warning", "Walk in the Shadows", "Eyes of a Stranger", "Empire" and "Silent Lucidity" are all present, but let's face it, most of the target audience for this collection had already spun these cuts to death and possibly owned them in a number of formats (CD and cassette, at least, possibly vinyl).

Of more interest for me were the B-side "Chasing Blue Sky" and the full-band rendition of "Someone Else?" from the Promised Land album. The latter has of course been included with that album's 2003 reissue, but at the time this was the place to find it. "Chasing..." is your pretty average, mellow acoustic rock track that Queensrÿche were peddling quite often through the 90s and beyond, with an incomprehensibly basic bass line, melodic and soothing chorus, and the slight tint of blues. It's the sort of tune you could listen to deep in your cups while feeling sorry for yourself, but the musical composition is barebones, effortless, and far too safe; the chorus average at best, and even the bridge with its harmonica solo and glinted guitars does little to burrow it any deeper into the conscience. In short, it's as boring as Bud Light, a favored libation, no doubt, of many who enjoy songs like this. On the other hand, the heavier version of "Someone Else?", a longer and harder rocking alternate to the original which featured Tate and a piano, is an improvement. The sax might feel cheesy, and for the most part it's still a wimpy ballad with clean guitars and Tate channeling his best "Silent Lucidity" timbre, but it's mildly more developed and dense than the Promise Land version, and I do think the chorus is catchy enough for this period.

Greatest Hits is sensible enough in terms of its selections and ordering, and at least the band and label aspired to offer the fan SOMETHING he/she might not have already owned, but in the long term this has been rendered entirely ineffectual by better bargains in the band's remastered catalog, or the later compilation Sign of the Times which featured nearly the exact same line-up of tracks on its first disc (with just a few alternate choices), but also featured a second disc of rarities and demos. The Greatest Hits CD works well enough to check your lipstick when there's no other mirror available, or as a clean surface from which to sniff a few lines. The case could be used to replace another cracked jewel case in your collection. Otherwise, unless you're the person described in the beginning of the second paragraph of this review, and you spot this for a quarter at your local Salvation Army or used media outlet, its complete scrap.

Verdict: Epic Fail [1.5/10]

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