Review Summary: "We were not making an album. For months, we'd been destroying and rebuilding our band."
I remember, back in the summer of 2010, when Linkin Park dropped the 'bomb' that would ultimately come to influence so much of their creative and commercial future. Fueled by aggressive synthesizers and an electronic backbone, the 5 minute glimpse into what was going to be their fourth release immediately polarized fans and critics alike, splitting fissures between even more factions within their fan base. Some praised the new direction, others hailed this as the end of Linkin Park. However, upon listening to the new record, it becomes fairly evident early on that this 5 minute cataclysmic insight into what would be found within
A Thousand Suns, also ended up being anything
but a representation of the album. Instead, this catalyst, if you will, exists to tell you one simple thing about the album: there is no turning back here. Everything you knew about Linkin Park has changed, and yet they are exactly the same band as before. Whether you embrace it, or reject it, is entirely up to you.
What follows the static ambiance of openers 'The Requiem' and 'The Radiance' is a journey through vulnerability and emotion, taking influence from as far as fear of nuclear destruction, anger and loneliness, and the Hindu scripture, the 'Bhagavad Gita'. It's ambitious material, coming from a band who's main musical output has been far simpler in structure, and far younger in nature, preferring to focus entirely on the angst driven side of things instead of stepping back and presenting a bigger picture.
Minutes to Midnight may have had some effect to that, but the reality is that it doesn't even come close. In fact, it's fairly obvious, from the moment that J. Robert Oppenheimer's famous quote pierces through the wall of noise left over from 'The Requiem', that what Linkin Park is trying to achieve here is quite far from anything they have ever done before.
Following the openers to the album, bleeds into focus what is the first actual structured 'song' of the album - the alternative rock-esque 'Burning In The Skies'. But the tone of the song is far more somber than previous Linkin Park efforts, with lyrics focusing on regret on a larger scale than angst; "blood and innocence, burning in the skies." Although driven by a soft rock sound that explodes into a gorgeous octave guitar solo that fits the track perfectly, it's still clear that change is Linkin Park's goal here, and the rest of the album follows suit in a display of experimentation and ambition. The tribal influenced rap track 'When They Come For Me' sees Shinoda lash out at naysayers, with lines such as "once you've got a theory of how a thing works, everybody wants the next thing to be just like the first," kicking out with attitude and the track is executed superbly. 'Robot Boy' and 'Jordana Del Muerto' drown listeners in ambiance and gang vocals and brings the album to a slower pace, albeit with risk of losing listener interest as they do drag on a little, but the synthesizer solo at the end of 'Robot Boy' is fantastic and ends the track spectacularly.
Bringing things back on track, 'Waiting For The End' continues 'Burning in the Skies' more soft rock driven sound, but the track is more uplifting, featuring a hip-hop backbone and with Bennington and Shinoda's back and forth vocals steering the track to a satisfying climax. In contrast to this lighter moment in the album, the next two tracks of the album brings forward a much more edgy and aggressive vibe, with Bennington's screams of "you push it back down - blood in your eye" searing through the piano and electronic styled 'Blackout', and a mechanical sounding dubstep inspired bass reverberating throughout 'Wretches and Kings', following Mario Savio's famous 'bodies upon the gears' speech and topped with angry rapped vocals from Shinoda and a killer chorus from Bennington.
The final third act of the album brings back the solemn tone of the first, with 'Wisdom, Justice and Love' slowly distorting its featured Martin Luthur King speech until bleeding into 'Iridescent', another soft rock driven track with delayed guitar notes trickling by and piano keys backing while Shinoda and Bennington share vocal duties. The song stays mellow and somber until a simple but effective guitar solo brings the track to an explosive conclusion. It is finally here that 'Fallout' serves as a building of swelling ambiance to lead into
A Thousand Suns lead single, 'The Catalyst', and the aggressive synthesizers with gang vocals and powering guitar octaves and a mix of electronic and acoustic drums explode in a spectacular fashion.
It is here that the album comes to a close with its biggest surprise; a fully open chord acoustic guitar track, 'The Messenger'. The piano keys play a solemn tune and Bennington's aching calls of "love keeps us kind" brings
A Thousand Suns to an end. The journey's over, curtain call.
It's now 5 years gone since
A Thousand Suns dropped, and it seems pretty clear that it will never be Linkin Park's most loved album; It polarized enough of its fan base to ensure that, and caused many to shake their heads and turn away, and yet it has all the staying power to become their second 'Hybrid Theory'. It is daring, absorbing, and experimental. Linkin Park brings an edge to their material that comes from a band that has matured and endured through something akin to an identity crisis. It's not a perfect record by all means, but it is at least a quality record that shows a band with ambition struggling to find their identity. More an exercise in experimentation rather than a collection of songs, perhaps Shinoda says it best in the album booklet:
"We were not making an album. For months, we'd been destroying and rebuilding our band."
