Of course, the band wasn't around to support or dispute any of this, as they'd disbanded just months after the album's release; in fact, nearly all of Refused's stature as punk/rock vanguards was forged after they packed it in. As years rolled on and that sound influenced everyone from At the Drive-In to Linkin Park, old fans and new alike became less and less hopeful that Refused would ever come back to survey the damage or aid in the clean-up efforts.
Suddenly, like a lightning bolt from the heavens, they were back; after playing a handful of shows in 2012, it was said that this was only temporary. We weren't to expect anything more of this, no new songs, just a quick hello and they were gone again. Naturally, we now know this wasn't true; late last year, original member Jon Brannstrom took to Facebook to announce his firing from the band, which begged the question, "they're still a band?" Well, as evidenced by Freedom, they indeed are still a band, albeit a band willingly thrusting themselves into a precarious position. How exactly do you follow up a 17-year-old record that arguably redefined a genre without one of the founding members who helped make that record the masterwork it was?
If there's a bone to be picked with the way they approach the task, it's that Freedom seems to be, by times, a little too keenly aware of what it's trying to live up to. The band's most revered tune, New Noise, is recalled early and often, both on the opening track Elektra and current single Dawkins Christ; thankfully, these references don't define the songs they're a part of, with Elektra progressing into what sounds like something Tool might try if they were really pissed off and Dawkins Christ bearing the influence of early Slayer (no, really). They may nod to the band's past, but these tunes don't live there.
Elsewhere, Refused do navigate their sound toward some unusual places, such as the jangly dance rocker Old Friends/New War (don't despair, there's still room for screaming), the high octane glam and horns of War On the Palaces and the metallic boogie banger Servants of Death. Perhaps the most divisive of the new experiments is Françafrique, with its heavy funk rock, children's chorus and somewhat silly "murder murder murder murder murder murder KILLKILLKILL" hook. It makes the song a bit uneven, but it's admirable in its audacity.
The most obvious difference between Freedom and what came before was inevitable, and that's the passage of time. Production wise, this record replaces the unhinged aesthetic of their '90s records with a more modern polish-and-pound; The Shape of Punk to Come was much more vitriolic and menacing, but Freedom is way louder, as is to be expected from modern mastering practices. If the songs aren't quite as vital sounding as the ones that came before, they're certainly not lacking in ideas or volume.
Then again, Freedom wasn't ever really going to be given a snowball's chance at challenging a record that's lauded as an essential classic, and Refused aren't those same angry, hungry young men. That said, it's not this album's job to make you forget about The Shape of Punk to Come, it's to reintroduce you to one of rock's most important bands. It's interesting and effective on its own merits and, though it doesn't always resonate, it's about as good a return as I could have hoped for given such a long absence.
June 30, 2015 • Epitaph
Highlights Elektra • Dawkins Christ • Servants of Death
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