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Friday, February 18, 2011

Between Hard Rock and a New Place: Appreciating Linkin Park

Just when you think you know what to expect from Linkin Park, they change it up. ROB O'CONNOR follows the band's  evolution, but will nu-metal fans go along for the art-rock ride?



W ith the exception of Led Zeppelin, who were an island unto themselves, hard rock bands have a tough time with appearing soft. It goes against their very definition: hard rock.

Agoura Hills, California’s Linkin Park have been gradually making that transition from your average mosh-pit variety nu-metal, rap rock band into an art rock band capable of U2-type seriousness and Pink Floyd-like conceptual heft.

Where tunes such as Hybrid Theory’s “In the End” and Meteora’s “Easier to Run” were the exceptions to their initial aggressive attack, years of mentoring under the production auspices of Rick Rubin have turned the group into a much more contemplative unit.

With that, critical respect for the band is ever so subtly changing. Where once the group was openly disparaged, according to Rolling Stone,  as “must have (being) designed in a laboratory as the consummate rap-metal band,” they have since begun receiving positive notices in The New York Times.

Linkin Park certainly know that all forms of hard rock have been ostracized upon initial impact. From Blue Cheer, Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath through Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Motörhead, it takes a ridiculous amount of persistence or patience for bands on the louder end of the spectrum to get any respect. If you’re Marillion or Black Oak Arkansas, you’re likely waiting for eternity.


The band’s latest studio release, 2010’s A Thousand Suns, solidifies the shift toward varied tunes and tones. The album emphasizes atmospheric shades, apocalyptic concepts and electronica interests just south of Radiohead. Linkin Park are steadily marshalling the troops towards the epicenter of “artistic respectability.” Do they need to?

Fact is, LP were doing just fine on their own. Their debut album, 2000’s Hybrid Theory, got called plenty of names resembling “derivative,” but the sales and audience reaction justified the existence of a band that had received multiple rejections from major labels before finally signing a deal.

The kids will always know what the adults never understand. Hybrid Theory wasn’t just an explanation of the group’s sound – a hybrid of metal and hip-hop exemplified by the melodic singing of Chester Bennington and the rapping of Mike Shinoda – but an accurate description of the band’s bi-polar emotional outbursts. Bennington ached to be loved and expressed deep insecurities while Shinoda launched to the front of the stage to fend off all doubters with his raps of defiance.

The band appeared to have a pinky swear with its audience to understand their grievances with growing up and the band’s second album, Meteora, further earned their audience’s trust with tunes like “Somewhere I Belong,” “Nobody’s Listening” and their concert fave “Numb.”

While the band spoke the language of youth in their lyrics, they also knew there were changes in the music world, subtle shifts that demanded remix albums and strategic alliances with others in neighboring genres. Their 2004 mash-up with Jay-Z for Collision Course, where Jay-Z’s raps are set to LP’s music, led to a hit and a Grammy Award for the track “Numb/ Encore.”  


A Thousand Suns, like its predecessor Minutes to Midnight, was produced by Rick Rubin, the man who gives new life to aging legends and a critical pedigree to everyone he meets. The resulting album plays as intended, as one long concept album concerning that most joyous of topics, human extinction, where songs segue from one another and sampled speeches give the album a feeling of, gulp, elegant power.  (Can fans forgive them for the piano ballad, “Iridescent”? Can critics get past the usual “extinction” clichés?)

The extra percussion and further reliance on keyboards suggest Linkin Park will continue to evolve. Sure, “Blackout” screams with the disgusted rage of yore, but even then it’s to increasingly computer-derived sound blocks that are far more futuristic than another guitar solo. That’s something you can’t say for many hard rock bands that believe mining the same territory, repeatedly, is the only way to get the job done.



LP’s audience may appreciate the doomsday scenario of “The Catalyst,” but can its Euro-disco aura really be any substitute for the tough gnarl of fan-favorite oldies such as “ Papercut,” “Points of Authority” and “Don’t Stay”?

Large audiences, though, have a way of surprising us often more than the bands they love. LP have always had serious musical undercurrents guiding their travels. Together, perhaps, they’ll discover a new musical planet. To hell with the nay-sayers.
 

Source : Fuse.tv

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A THOUSAND SUNS

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