The woeful return of Rap-Metal
Thought rap-metal was dead? Well that depends on your definition of dead. First comes the news that Limp Bizkit are touring again, and now Stuck Mojo are back with The Great Revival. On this showing, however, rap-metal as an artform is very much dead; it is an ex-artform to paraphrase Python. Indeed this may well be the album that kills it.
With a revolving door membership policy Stuck Mojo have always flirted with a variety of sounds, and on this, their first album to be released on Napalm Records, they again showcase their myriad interests. Unfortunately none of their various musical hats appear to fit particularly well, even though permanent member, lead guitarist, and vocalist, Rich Hall clearly knows his way around a guitar. This album is part Korn, part Puddle Of Mud and part Faith No More with splashes of country thrown in, most horrifically on 'Country Road'.
Production wise the guitars are washed out, and sound computerised, which the drums actually are, giving the whole thing a tinny glean that isn’t rescued by interesting arrangements. Instead songs meander along with little direction, or are cluttered by having too many parts, each vying with the preceding one to provide the killer hook, which never arrives.
Lyrically they fare no better either. Ranging from the absurd rhymes of new vocalist Lord Nelson, (“I’m feeling all alone/ Like Will Smith in that film that everyone’s all going” being a case in point) to the ludicrously earnest. 'Friends' begins as a wah-guitar led track of no particular offence before segueing off into a chorus surely borrowed from High School Musical 4: “Sometimes when the world it drives me crazy/you’re there to save me/ you’re my best friend”. Uhuh.
Much of the album concerns itself with the pitfalls of fame, and those who seek it. The two-part mini rock opera that closes the album, 'Superstar', and opener '15 minutes of Fame' being the most notable examples. But such musings from a band that never truly made it themselves smacks of sour grapes. Not to mention the fact that as subject matter it’s well covered ground, especially by Rap-Metal bands. Cyprus Hill’s 'Rockstar' pretty much said it all.
The longer it goes on the greater grows the suspicion that this must be some Tenacious D-esque joke. Except of course it isn’t meant to be funny. But it is funny. Tragically so.