Review Summary: Theory of a Deadman’s latest outing proves they’re about as relevant in the present day as the prehistoric animal it’s named after.
Commonly referred to as “Nickelback Lite”, or “Nickelback 2.0”, Theory of a Deadman has had a rather interesting history. After signing with 604 Records (run by Nickelback frontman himself, Chad Kroeger) at the start of the 2000’s, the band would spend over a decade pumping out some of butt-rock's most “beloved” and “timeless” classics, including
Angel, Lowlife, and
Bad Girlfriend. The band was branded as a collective of misogynists for the entirety of their career, but they stooped to an all-time low with their last two releases,
Wake Up Call (2017) and
Say Nothing (2020). Although they would score the biggest hit of their career in doing it, those records were universally panned, and it became excruciatingly evident that the Canadian quartet's only purpose for making music was trend-hopping for relevance. Worse, was the dichotomy of attempting to create insightful music delving into the subject of politics, from a band whose second biggest hit opens with the line “My girlfriends a dick magnet”.
However, in producing the worst material in their discography, it gave the band the one thing they never deserved, a chance at redemption. They’ve been an easy group to dunk on since breaking into the mainstream, and they found themselves hitting rock bottom these past few years. But after producing what critics unanimously agree are the two worst projects in their discography, they had an opportunity to really step up and potentially reinvent themselves (without pandering to current musical trends, that is). Like other rock outfits who tried to cash in on the Imagine Dragons wave near the end of the last decade, they have since had some sense knocked back into them. The first notable change is that they are no longer branding themselves as “THEORY” like they did for their previous two records. Their lead-off title-track single for their newest outing,
Dinosaur, was pretty reminiscent of their last rock effort,
Savages (2014). In addition, just off that single, their worst attributes from their previous releases have been kept at bay, and it’s apparent that the band have ditched the pandering and returned to making their old fashioned brand of radio-friendly rock music. So is their latest record,
Dinosaur, any good?
Well, have they ever been good? No? Then there’s your answer.
Coming in at a measly ten tracks,
Dinosaur finds Theory of a Deadman doing the same thing they’ve always done since making it big. This half hour slog-fest comes with all the woman-hating, sappy ballads, and radio-tastic musical chops you’ve come to expect from the Walmart Nickelback. And yes, I’m aware that there are a good chunk of readers laughing at the idea of someone thinking a band like Theory of a Deadman would have tried to innovate, especially this late in the game. But you’d think that after being one of rock’s go-to punching bags for so long, they would try something new. Nope, just another case of playing it safe.
After hearing TOAD half-ass their music from day one, their latest album is more than just generic, it becomes a headache. After twenty plus years of rehashing the same two song topics, it becomes a disservice to other radio-friendly bands to even call them
average anymore. On top of that, they still find a way to come through with some embarrassingly awful cuts as well. They’ve been trying to pull off a more emotional side for decades, and
Stuck and
Sideways prove they’ll never be taken seriously in that regard.
Medusa (Stone) is just more of the anti-woman shlock you’ve come to expect. Or you get songs like
Ambulance, where Tyler tries, I *** thee not, rapping. (yes, it’s as bad as it sounds)
Along with tepid and predictable lyrics, the instrumental side of things tends to be a borefest as well, with sub-standard riffs and drum work throughout. Even their first record had glimmers of interesting guitar work, but the music has become so mundane that you will forget what you heard the moment it’s done playing. And the solos (if you can even call them that)? Well, if you remember
Hero from the Spider-Man (2002) soundtrack, you’ll know that Tyler Connolly played the first-day-of-guitar-lessons level guitar solo on that record. It’s been over twenty years since then, and there has not been an inch of progress. The best example is
Sick, with a solo so simple that it may not even register as one upon your first listen.
Dinosaur was written about the current state of humanity, but it would serve much better as a retirement anthem. Even after embarrassing themselves by rebranding themselves as a Maroon 5 clone, a “return to form” rock album couldn’t save them. You know it’s curtains when even Nickelback could come through with a more credible album after getting dunked on by adopting a poppier sound on previous releases. This band has been phoning it in for well over fifteen years now, so maybe it’s finally time for this group of unenthusiastic hacks to go out the way of the dinosaur.
