It goes against the core of the trend market, lives (almost) as if punk never existed, and is seen in love with its triumphant mirror image, much like Led Zeppelin in 1977, but Muse continues to deliver albums that captivate you. which infantry battalion. High-octane guitar metallurgy, larger-than-life blown choruses, galloping crescendos, highly motivated voices, and a pack of apocalyptic literature surround his new work, Will of the People, the sensory fraction of stadium rock that will blow your mind if yours is at its most physical.
The company reportedly decided that the time had come to deliver Muse some of the biggest hits the Devon band has resisted, opting instead to create an album with equal impact but new tracks. And the Will of the People does not go beyond the milestones set in its golden age (2001-09), but it does keep its gaze beyond the recreations of already known sources that may seem cliché to us. Maybe so, but in rock these licenses are often less forgiving than in pop.
This seductive totalitarianism
Muse’s notion of overproduction, even with its creative ups and downs, functions here as a rare response to Yupi’s world from Coldplay, with its warning cries against totalitarianism based on purely totalitarian instrumental dynamics. What you’re criticizing is, no one can beat Pink Floyd on the wall): There’s the capitol-inspired takeover attempt based on the glam rock riff that would make Marilyn Manson happy. Prior to the successful Harmony tune, it was powered by eighties synthesizers.
This is an enjoyable album, it must be said, in which Muse tries to bill the representative themes of the different profiles of his style by returning to the idea of anthology. This means we hit a strict Queen homage (that rococo operetta called Liberation, played by Ghoulish choirs) and paid the price of the intense ballad (Ghosts left us because of our loved ones).
The band thrives on the flamboyant and overwhelming theme Won’t stand down and the battle cry of Kill or be kill with the most metal guitars on the album (you make me feel like it’s Halloween, most predictable). A Matt Bellamy in charge left to show the smashing downhill and without brakes.
The world seems to have accepted Muse’s apocalyptic fantasies (viruses, cracks, wars) and now, as reality competes with fiction, the band resists pressure with an album that’s moderately effective and enjoyable with all its excesses. After all, in the league of deceptive experiences, this isn’t one of the worst.