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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