Review Summary: The good, the average... and the bad.
To say Dave Mustaine is a rock icon is an understatement - the man stands as one of the most influential heavy metal musicians of the past forty years; an institution in his own right, responsible for some of the genre's defining chapters (musical and otherwise). Insufferable
enfant terrible to some, charismatic idol to others, MegaDave has never left anyone indifferent throughout his troubled path. Be it classics such as
Peace Sells... But Who's Buying and
Rust in Peace, personal favorites like
So Far, So Good... So What!, or products of a new cycle -
Countdown to Extinction or
Youthanasia, Mustaine's work is carved in stone for posterity. It is the privilege of those who are in the right place at the right time. And whatever industry you're in, this means everything.
Although Megadeth's music has ceased to be artistically relevant since
Youthanasia, there seems to be a nostalgic element that keeps pushing the brand forward, like a steady, continuous stream too strong to be restrained.
The System Has Failed and
Endgame are accomplished examples that infused some excitement into an already well-known template. Even 2016's
Dystopia, without being brilliant, revealed a solid artistic direction with a handful of good songs. I stopped craving some sort of
Rust in Peace 2.0 for some time now, just gimme Dave's raspy vocals and a couple of tasty riffs and I'm good. It's a bit like Steven Spielberg's movies which, despite not having the magic of yesteryear, always deliver something more, if only small glimpses of a glorious past. We must keep our feet on the ground and understand what to expect (or not) from our heroes, otherwise we will always be disappointed with life. And a sixty-year-old Dave Mustaine, coming off a throat cancer battle, is no longer the rebel he once was, either as a man or a musician.
That being said, Dave knows what he signed on for. Megadeth is not a jazz or blues band that can drag on for eternity without losing its following. Even in a woke era, where appearances speak louder than talent, he must keep the fire alive with honesty and respect for the past, to avoid falling into the doldrums of an insipid majority who have only recently found "god" with all his moral virtues. He’s probably already stuck in the loop, yet the music must keep bridges with the past, if only to ensure the solidity and longevity of his megabrand. The singles 'We'll Be Back' and 'Night Stalker' (which features Ice T), consciously or not, keep this channel open by mimicking the band's early sound. Despite its lack of creative relevance, this cloning injects some irreverence into an overly institutionalized formula. The interesting Rust in Peace-ish bridge of 'Soldier On!' or the constant Friedman-esque solos by the talented Kiko Loureiro also mirror this collage with fragments of the past. While self-plagiarism is understandable, especially at this late stage of the band's career, the music takes on another color when Dave mixes things up, as in the hybrid end section of 'Dogs of Chernobyl' that fuses
Peace Sells(ish) guitar and tempo with narration a la
Countdown to Extinction. This clash of eras, working in parallel, should have been explored more often, rather than appearing separately, as in the verse and chorus of 'We'll Be Back'. Though its somewhat goofy wrapping, 'Mission to Mars' also offers some fresh fun by diving into catchy waters without resorting to generic mainstream formulas like 'Junkie' and 'Killing Time' that border on mediocrity. A top producer would surely help Dave evade this dissociative creative disorder by shortening spaces, thus pushing the songwriting into more focused and coherent grounds. The late Martin Birch could probably also persuade Mustaine to put more effort into the vocals on a track like 'Sacrifice' that calls for a more technically refined approach, or to remove unnecessary filler segments that add no value to the songs, such as the abrupt midway break in 'Night Stalker'. These ups and downs, while unsurprising in (modern) Megadeth, take some of the shine off a record with the potential to be substantially better.
MegaDave and his trusty war buddy, Vic Rattlehead, are back with a mixed bag that gathers the good, the average, and the bad. A melange of familiar echoes which, while not a symphony of destruction, still do enough damage to keep the brand alive and kicking. And that, my fellow metalheads, is reason enough for all of us to rejoice.
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