IN REVIEW: Muse - "Will of the People"

 

Let's not bury the lead here; as popular as they've remained and as musically talented as they are, 2022 Muse are far removed from their creative peak. At this point in their career the stakes aren't exactly high, though; one could argue they've accomplished all they've set out to, becoming one of the world's most popular rock bands and leaving a string of hits in their wake. Muse don't owe anybody anything these days; having reached the pinnacle many album cycles ago, they've spent the better part of the last fifteen years or so coasting on goodwill from their best work (The Origin of Symmetry and Absolution, for my and most other fans' money), freely experimenting with musical styles and consistently dealing in the bumper sticker sociopolitical values that have become Matt Bellamy's modem operandi.

This means that, as static as the band's touchstones have remained, what they choose to augment their sound with has been the headline more often than not since they first made a concerted effort to subvert expectations with the synth-infused, defiantly pop-leaning bangers of 2006's Black Holes and Revelations. In fact, each album since has introduced a new and divisive whim for Muse to chase; 2009's The Resistance ended with a three part symphonic piece, 2012's The 2nd Law infamously inserted dubstep into parts of the track list, 2015's Drones saw them retreat to heavier fare for a preachy, ham-fisted modern warfare concept album and 2018's Simulation Theory broke out the synths and drenched everything in a thick '80s neon sheen.

So, what's the catch on their ninth album? Well, the catch is that there is no catch, at least not one so apparent; in a recent interview, Will of the People was alluded to as "a greatest hits album of new songs". This is just about the most presumptuous statement a band could make, as if to say the songs the members are writing from the other side of global conquest and a position of set-for-life recognition and success stand toe to toe with the ones they wrote when they were young and hungry. It's also a not-so-clever way of admitting that there wasn't really a clear direction of what they wanted to do this time and, as you take in the full breadth of the ten songs, any sense of flow is completely abandoned in pursuit of the next shiny distraction.

If there is a headline-grabbing detour, a "look what those crazy kids are getting into this time" genre exercise, it's metal; perhaps the song that garnered the most attention previous to the album's release is Kill Or Be Killed, an energetic and heavy number that garnishes a pretty standard Muse song with a squawking main riff that calls to mind Drowning Pool's Bodies, the occasional double kicks, some chunky riffs and a breakdown that features a guttural background growl. That said, I reiterate it's all there to accompany what is essentially not much different than what they've been doing all along, and throwing so much extracurricular activity in (including a weirdly sung, somewhat Middle Eastern inspired section) smacks of trying too hard. A better, more tasteful example is lead single Won't Stand Down, which marries some of these metallic leanings to a song that finds a way to make the Simulation Theory and 2nd Law eras co-exist, featuring synths throughout and a dash of the old wub-wub in the verses. It doesn't look like it works on paper, but the way it's brought together is really rather pleasant.

Those two songs cover a lot of ground, but are notable because "Muse goes metal", and that's a more favourable cover story than "Muse goes exploring in the weeds and completely loses sight of the path"; Will of the People is only like a greatest hits album in that it throws a little bit of everything Muse has tried (and a few new tricks, naturally) into the pot and hopes desperately that listeners will be too distracted by nostalgia to discover just how subpar this album is. It's head scratching early and often, opening with a pair of pre-release singles that confound more than they excite; Will of the People is a supremely dumb attempt at making a big opening statement that manages to crib from Summertime Blues and, more obviously, The Beautiful People (while we're at it, not so sure the world wanted a reminder that Marilyn Manson exists, but you do you). It's followed by Compliance, a thumping little ditty that sets synth to "stab", sung from the perspective of an entity of authority that's offering safety and comfort as long as you comply, and it's honestly not much deeper than that.

Liberation introduces another wrinkle in the form of some blatant, piano bashing Queen worship; of course, this isn't really a shocking new revelation, as they've been doing this to some extent for most of their career. This track does it well enough, although (like pretty much the entire record) it feels like they're piling on layers because they can and perhaps trying just a little too hard to wring magic out of a song that just doesn't truly have it. Then, after the aforementioned Won't Stand Down, the piano comes back as the only instrument on Ghosts (How Can I Move On), a heartfelt ballad dedicated to those who lost loved ones during the pandemic; even as a Matt Bellamy solo composition, it goes a little more widescreen than it needs to be, but it's nonetheless a welcome respite from the forced grandiosity elsewhere.

It only takes a few seconds to miss the relative quiet, as the B-side opens with You Make Me Feel Like It's Halloween, a song that is a crass attempt at getting spooky season airplay at best and a ghastly appropriation of Someone's Watching Me at worst. It does feature a pretty bitchin' guitar solo, but wading through all the goofy organs, flat falsettos and misguided effects is just too high a cost; this song may stand as the single most embarrassing thing Muse has ever recorded. Later, we get the synth-heavy, overwrought Verona, which tries to be an uplifting love song but offers utterly facepalm triggering lyrics; paraphrasing, it's about the song's protagonist not caring if he dies (though not specified, given the times it's safe to assume from Covid-19) as long as it means he gets to kiss the object of his affection. Considering that earlier we got the album's emotional high point in the form of a tribute to people dying from said virus, Verona comes off especially tone deaf.

Euphoria goes harder than it needs to (and freely reprises its opening riff from Knights of Cydonia and its pre-chorus vocal melody from Time Is Running Out), but it feels like the pieces come together more effectively, the feral and relentless synths matching Bellamy's guitar workout stride for stride; it's a swift tune that achieves the stated goal of sounding like Muse's greatest hits more so than anything else we're getting from them on this record (because, you know, obvious recalls to their past hits), and I'm not mad at it. The same can't be said for album closer We Are Fucking Fucked; amid the album's most abrasive and obnoxious mix, Bellamy sings about how "another world war, wildfires and earthquakes... a deadly virus (and) tsunamis of hate" are the reasons why "we are fucking fucked". Tell us something we don't already know, Matt; it's a decidedly negative ending for an album that had made attempts by times to offer glimmers of hope or, at the very least, calls for unity. It's likely intended as a blowing off of steam, a manifestation of society's frustration and anxiety for everyone to rally around and spit along to, but dropping twenty F-bombs and spewing flimsy, surface level platitudes isn't cathartic, it's lazy. 

Muse are no strangers to misguided ideas, creative missteps or dividing their fan base; over the course of their last half dozen albums, their checkered musical output has arguably been their most defining characteristic. However, until now I could at least give full marks for their commitment; the occasional step too far outside their comfort zone was still somewhat admirable because, even when the end result wasn't as bold or as welcomed as they likely wanted it to be, it was an unwavering decision that was made without fear. Will of the People, by contrast, feels like it's wavering all over the place, trying anything and everything to elevate weaker Muse songs that benefit far less from their added studio trickery and transmuting styles than they would from, say, a little quality control.

This is no greatest hits album, it's a sizzle reel at best, proof of all the things that Muse can do but shouldn't have done all at once manifested in one of the most scatterbrained, overconfident and willfully haphazard records I've heard in some time. An all-encompassing journey that ultimately leads nowhere, all of the reckless genre hopping and feverishly polished turds on the track list certainly make Will of the People notable though, rather than "Muse's war album" or "Muse's synth-pop album", it's sadly destined instead to be noted as "Muse's worst album".

August 26, 2022 • Helium-3/Warner

Highlights Won't Stand Down • Ghosts (How Can I Move On) • Euphoria