Dead Rebel Society, Blitzkrieg Reviews, Queensryche, Operation Mindcrime II (2)

I know. Don’t you fucking tell me, I already fucking know. “Operation: Mindcrime” (1988) was probably the second best concept metal album ever released, beaten only by “Abigail” of course, and how the hell these assholes figure they are going to follow up now, 20 years later, is a fucking mystery. Let me put on my gay little Sherlock Homes hat and straighten this the fuck out for you.

First of all, my little lambs… My editor BEGGED me on her bare knees that I would try and be serious in this review. BEGGED me. I unzipped and shoved my... (Editor: THAT is exactly what I am talking about, jackass!) ... Yeah, OK. Since this is such a monumental event in all our pathetic lives I will cook some Ritalin up on a spoon, shoot up and fucking try to stay on target here.

Fucking cry me a river already.

Queensryche is, of course, not the band they once were. De Garmo is gone, Tate apparently can’t sing that high these days, they haven’t written a decent song since "Empire", but at least they don’t dress like a gay rendition of Mad max on Ice anymore. The prospects for an “Operation: Mindcrime II” carrying any kind of punch don’t look so fucking good now, do they?

We shall see…

Concept albums are tricky bastards. You have to make sure the lyrics bring flowers and woo the music, and that the music spreads its legs on the first date, or there will be no complete album where everything has clicked to serve its purpose. That was what so fucking great with the original “Mindcrime”; it was a perfect ten. There was pretty much nothing, except for the gay ass production, that they could have done differently to improve that album in any way. Hell, Sister Mary? I‘d hit her. It was also one of the first real cross over albums. With its smart story and fucking excellently arranged music it attracted people who would normally never listen to metal, unless it was that or licking the door knob at a public restroom. Not that I really care about that shit. I like to feel “special”. Yeah, yeah. Funny. Shut up.

Anyway… Tough act to follow, kids. Nothing you just squat down and shit out.

This one, “Operation: Mindcrime II”, is set 20 years after the story of the first one. Nikki, the fuckheaded Dr. X apprentice, is out from prison and ready to go all Jihad on society again. Since this is not Story Hour with Beppo the Friendly Clown you will have to get the real fucking story somewhere else, I will just mainly check out the music. I don’t have the attention span to do both. Fucking sue me.

The album opens with two intros, just so you know this is gonna be fucking epic. “This album is so huge we have an intro for the intro!” That sort of thing. Gay, but what the fuck ever…

The first real song is “I’m American”. It has a certain “Spreading the Disease” touch to it, but only because it’s up-tempo. The guitars are pretty cool and Stone and Wilton even has some sort of Maidenesque twin solo going here in the middle. The song is not that bad actually. Way better than anything they have had the nerve to ridicule their career with for the last 20 years.

Then we have “One Foot in Hell” that starts off with really cool guitars. This is a great song. You know what was so fucking great with the original Mindcrime? Every song on there could ONLY have been on that album. If you heard them out of context they STILL could only ever belong on that album. This song has that groove to it to. It is a tru Mindcrime song. No fucking doubt about it. Mid-tempo, great Tate vocals, cool riff. I already have a fucking boner the size of my boner for this album. I hope they don’t fucking roll over and give me a softie as we progress.

Next up is “Hostage” which is one of those songs that Queensryche used to do so fucking well, starting out with intense drums and a cool riff – and then sliding into a verse with clean guitars and a pumping bass, carrying Tate’s soaring voice on a high throughout the story told. Whoa! Wait a minute! Back up… Did I just say that? What the fuck am I, Kerrang Magazine now? What I meant to say is that it fucking rocks. All in all so far I have to say all my high-as-fuck expectations (in every sense of the meaning of that phrase) have been met. I don’t even miss De Garmo! What the fuck? Imagine that.

“The Hands” carry the trademark of the deep dark Ryche riffing into an open song about all sorts of psychotic agony the main character is going through, I’m sure. Who the hell am I, Freud? Tate’s voice is surprisingly good overall. Well, fuck that. I saw them live with Dream Theater and Fates Warning in New York a few years ago and he could still hit those high notes. Maybe it was the competition that night, but he fucking belted out “Take Hold of the Flame” like it was 1986. On here he seems to have remembered what brand of fucking tea he used to drink or some shit. Anyway, he nails it. Cool riffs too. Almost Whitesnake/Zeppelinish guitars at times towards the end.

Speaking of Zeppelin and Whitesnake. What the hell? “Speed of Light” starts out as a welfare version of “Kashmir” meets “Judgment Day” in the line to the bathroom at Social Security, complete with the beat and everything. Were they having a sale down at the Salvation Army on recycled riffs? Foodstamps accepted? That’s what the fucking verse sounds like. Give me a fucking break here. Crimson Glory did a better job ripping off the classic Zep song on “Transcendence” with “In Dark Places”. At least the song ends with Sister Mary’s sweet voice, if only for the briefest moment. I used to fantasize about her, and I would take her sweet lily white hands in mine… and… Never you fucking mind. Fucking fags, stop staring at me like that.

“Signs Say Go” takes over and quite frankly lets me down. It’s a rather chaotic song with singing all over the place, without ever hitting a consistent flow. The riff is boring and I find myself floating towards the fridge to see if there is any Alpo left since Christmas. Can you say “fucking boring”? C’mon… Give it a try: “FUCKING BORING”. And on top of that I need to kill this headache now. Can you mix Tylenol and Methadone? We’ll just have to find out. There…

Bring on the Drama Llamas! We have the Psychotic String Orchestra in the building! Cool strings behind a really good song. Wow, motherfucking wow! “Re-Arrange”. Sounds like a title off “Promised Land”, huh? Tate sings, once again, like in days of former glory. That actually pisses me off. Why in the hell of Satan has he submitted us to the shit he’s laid down on recent releases then? If he can sing like this, I mean? Is he fucking with us? I don’t take that shit from my mother, and he thinks I’ll cut him some slack? Motherfucking Judas... I’ll cut him all right. GREAT song. A driving drum beat and really heavy guitars – AMAZING SOLO. How long since you heard Wilton actually play a real guitar solo? Did he ever? Yes, he did – De Garmo was not the shredder – and here he shows us he can again. (Now I know some dumbass is gonna tell me that it was the other guitarist, Stone, playing that shit. Shut the fuck up. I am trying to make a point here.)

The next song, “The Chase”, is… it’s just… a dream come true for a retard Beppo such as I. RONNIE JAMES DIO! The mummy and the daddy of all metal voices! Whoa, motherfucker! He’s plays/sings the role of Dr. X, the evil genius. He can still sing like he always did, and that seemingly pumps Tate up to deliver one of his best vocal performances since the duet with Pamela Moore in “Suite Sister Mary”. Fucking amazing song too, where the guitars have been reduced to accentuating muted interjections (dumbass translation: the occasional chuggga-chuggs) so to let the singers shine on their own. Motherfucker. I can’t believe this. Me, actually enjoying a sequel! This hasn’t happened since… since… ever! “Abigail 2” fucking blew mud like Old Faithful, and “Keeper of the Seven Keys 3” sucked like Jasmine St. Clair at a Guinness Book of World Records Convention. No, this is the shit. This album right here. I will be the first on line when it comes out in April.

“A Murderer?” kicks in with some “Della Brown” bass lines and is released by fervor drums and some annoying background vocals (that I’m sure are supposed to be all very clever, but since I don’t have the lyric sheet I can’t fucking make out what they’re hollering about). Cool up-tempo drives and theatrical singing from Tate. This is a Mindcrime song. Hands down, all the way. I can’t fucking wait to play both albums back to back. The transition will be much more seamless than I could ever have fucking hoped.

“Cricles” is like a slow motion intro. Some droning effects and guitars and Tate going on and on about something I am sure is most vital to the story. I will bear the fuck with him and just hold my breath here for whatever will come…

… which was worth the wait. Why? Well, "I Could Change It All" is a ballad for starters, and I am gay for good ballads. As long as they don’t show them on MTV, or it’s Warrant playing them. A good soft mellow song by a real metal band with an excellent singer breaks out my KY Jelly every time. The other reason this particular song was worth the wait is Pamela Moore, once again taking on the role as Mary. Nikki, the main character fuckhead (pay attention), reminisces about all the great shit he had with Mary the Twisted Nun-Whore (the concept – it’s fantastic). It’s like “Phantom of the Opera” with ghosts, voices and tributes to love and shit. I love it. Cool choirs too.

And it continues in “An International Confrontation”! More Pamela-Geoff singing and even though the song is more like some dramatic pompous metal movie score, or something, it’s still fucking great. I remember being a little Beppo and seeing “Suite Sister Mary” in concert on the Mindcrime tour. Best vocal performance I have ever seen, to this day, and this whole shit with Pamela Moore and Geoff Tate sure brings back some memories.

“A Junkie’s Blues”. Hey, that is my song. Motherfuckers. If I could sing or play that is. Just stop stealing my thunder, OK? Anyway… “Tribe” guitars trick us into thinking this will be a shit song, but once the verse kicks in we’re all happy happy again. Maybe the lyrics are “blues”, because there sure as fuck are no 12 bars or extended pentatonics here (dumbass translation #2: “Back in Black” it's not) – just a really cool song with great vocal choirs (are there any other sorts of choirs?) in the background, big fat open chords and solid drumming. It’s over before it even began.

We’re approaching the end of the ride, ladies and gentlemen. Please make sure all sexual reproduction organs are out of the stewardesses and safely tucked away in... I should have said that before take-off, huh? Well, what the fuck ever. “Fear City Slide” is like a mix between "Mindcrime" and "Empire" in its straightforward heavy solid beat with really vintage Ryche riffs in the verse. The chorus is typical Mindcrime with big passionate ecstatic singing about all the things that are running rampant in the main character’s head. All weird shit, of course. Very cool.

Last song on the album. All good things come to an end. “All Promises” features Pamela Moore again and is a really good closer. Just like when listening to the original Mindcrime I don’t have a fucking clue who did what here, but I am sure I can google for the synopsis somewhere. Is Mary alive or dead? Is this still her fucking ghost? It’s like playing Clue on the Monopoly board – I am too stupid to make sense of this shit, but the music is great. It’s a ballad with Nikki whining and crying about his, oh, so very poor life. Fuck him. I had concrete in my sandbox and all my toys were nailed to the floor. Give me a break.

Anyway…

I am stoked, psyched and relieved. This is more than a worthy follow up to one of the greatest concept albums of all time. Queensryche totally stepped up their game on this one, and while it pisses me off that they took their sweet ass time to do it, it also makes me happy to see they still had it in them to pull it off.

But what the hell are they going to follow up this album with in a couple of years? “Tribe II”? Just doesn’t ring the same, does it?

Whew. I made it. Sense, that is. Almost. Fuck it. Ritalin is wearing off anyway... Fucking Tourettes kicking in. Aahh, I'm fucking whole again. Motherfucker. Piss. Shit. I have to go crack out with my motherfucking porn collection now. "Midget Cocksuckers" or some shit. Little people, my ass. "Little People Fellatio" just doesn't seem... Where was I? I feel like... Or maybe I should just put on my hockey mask and go out and... er, I mean... Just fucking go away, OK? It's over. Nothing to see here. Clown. Bottle. Fuck.

Motherfuck.

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