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Yeah, me too. Seems like Matt just rounded track length while "12 minutes" from Chris sounds more accurate.

 

12 minutes would also justify the 2 minute Morricone intro.

 

It would be interesting to read how the French reviewer describes the songs we know to get an idea of what their judgment is like... If someone could translate? :)

 

http://board.muse.mu/showthread.php?t=94231

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I'm kind of tired with all the "the narrative isn't subtle" "the topic is cliché/juvenile" stuff, honestly.

I feel like since it's supposed to be an uplifting story about human love and compassion, everyone feels like they have to put it down.

 

Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not putting it down. I don't care enough about lyrics as it is. I listen to Muse for the instrumentation and Matt's vocal deliveries. Showbiz has an entire verse where he repeats "visions of greed you wallow". Not exactly poetry, and it's one of my absolute favorites!

 

Edit: I just think Muse have opened themselves up to lyrical criticism with this album strictly because they came out and said it's a concept album. Generally speaking, I think the great concept albums are held to a higher standard in terms of lyrically content.

 

All this being said, I do not for a second think that Drones needs to be a great concept album in order to be a great Muse record.

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Isn't it 'Rhythms of greed'?

 

I think it's "visions" but funny you say that because I also thought for the longest time that it was "rivers of greed," and it still sounds like an "R" word sometimes, even after I looked up the real lyrics.

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Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not putting it down. I don't care enough about lyrics as it is. I listen to Muse for the instrumentation and Matt's vocal deliveries. Showbiz has an entire verse where he repeats "visions of greed you wallow". Not exactly poetry, and it's one of my absolute favorites!

 

Edit: I just think Muse have opened themselves up to lyrical criticism with this album strictly because they came out and said it's a concept album. Generally speaking, I think the great concept albums are held to a higher standard in terms of lyrically content.

 

All this being said, I do not for a second think that Drones needs to be a great concept album in order to be a great Muse record.

 

No, I totally agree that they opened themselves up to higher lyrical scrutiny, but I feel like a lot of people out there are criticizing the concept itself, instead of focusing on Muse's presentation of the concept.

 

I think they might deal with it in a straightforward manner, but I think it's still an important and valid topic.

And I see a lot of "omg, we're all controlled! What a juvenile view of the world!" and I think that's pretty unfair (and wrong.)

 

Similarly, when Matt was quoted talking about the direct democracy party (which, btw, is far from his original idea) it got ridiculed in the media quite a bit, under the "omg, crazy conspiracy Bellamy!" when in fact it's a very legitimate idea.

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Visions

 

I think it varies. Looked up some live versions, sometimes he sings 'visions' and sometimes 'rhythms'. Might be a mix of both on the record, hard to tell. First one (on the album) definitely sounds like 'rhythms' to me.

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Just read that Italian one, not much new, my translation was very poor. Said they would be in Italy in March, in Milan for about a week, the stage setup for the tour will allow them to get closer to the crowd. Chris says there are some similarities between The Globalist and Citizen Erased, in particularly the guitar.

 

Thank you :)

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Drones was co-produced by elder statesman Robert John ‘Mutt’ Lange, famous for his multi-platinum collaborations with AC/DC, Def Leppard, Bryan Adams and more. It’s an unexpected choice for Muse, perhaps, suggesting a move away from their baroque-and-roll sci-fi overdrive towards rock’s centre ground. There are still Queen-sized fanfares, maximalist flourishes and striking sonic experiments here, notably a hymnal a cappella title track composed purely of overlapping vocals. But the overall sound is polished and conventional, as Bellamy sets aside his past flirtations with pounding dubstep and punky electronics. Shame.

 

The sleeve design is also – how can we put this politely? – laugh-out-loud awful. Muse have always favoured ostentatious album artwork in the Pink Floyd tradition, even working with Floydian legend Storm Thorgerson. This time they opted for photographer and video director Matt Mahurin, who has previously done great work with Tom Waits, Marilyn Manson, Bon Jovi and many others. But Mahurin’s image of a giant Orwellian hand operating a faceless human joystick just looks amateurish and adolescent. The figure’s resemblance to a Peperami sausage only adds to the air of unintended comedy. Not a promising start.

 

The tracks loosely follow a fall-and-rise arc in which the narrator descends into totalitarian mind-control hell, before finally breaking free and fighting back. His journey begins with the U2-ish sparkle-rock shimmer of Dead Inside and the walloping fuzz-bass glam-rock groove of Psycho, a crudely effective workout for the band’s powerhouse rhythm section Chris Wolstenholme and Dominic Howard. The latter tune is prefixed by the short spoken-word track Drill Sergeant, which shares some of the same lyrics, and plays on stale movie stereotypes of the cruel military taskmaster: ‘your ass belongs to me now... your mind is just a program and I’m the virus.’ Subtle as a punch in the testicles.

 

Lyrics are admittedly not Bellamy’s strongest point, but he has never crammed quite so many ungainly, clichéd and po-faced lines onto a single album before. Over the fluid, Coldplay-ish ripples of Mercy he envisages ‘men in cloaks trying to devour my soul’. On the fightback anthem Revolt, he claims ‘we live in a toxic jungle, truth is suppressed to a mumble.’ Ouch. At least Russell Brand would throw in a few knob gags to keep it interesting.

 

Midway through the album sits JFK, a long extract of John F. Kennedy’s landmark 1961 speech in which he warned about a “monolithic and ruthless conspiracy” against democratic freedoms. He was talking about the Soviet Union, of course, though Muse believe this Cold War relic will resonate in our new mass-brainwashed Dark Ages. It’s a bold ambition, albeit fuzzy in intent, the rockstar equivalent of posting inspirational Morgan Freeman quotes on Facebook.

 

Bellamy concedes there is “not a lot of love” on Drones. He’s right, but two stirring power ballads in the album’s closing stages warm up the overall emotional temperature. Aftermath begins very much like U2’s One, a slow-burn lament with a gently imploring circular guitar hook and a lyric full of battle-scarred, world-weary tenderness. Lovely.

 

But Muse save their full 1812 Overture arsenal for The Globalist, a majestic finale which begins with whistles and twangs worthy of Ennio Morricone, erupts into a tumescent speed-metal riff monster midway through, then ends on a soaring Lloyd Webber-sized show-stopper about the imminent death of mankind: ‘A trillion memories lost in time forever!’ Bellamy howls as planets collide and stars implode. This is the way the world ends: with a bang and a whimper. And a symphony orchestra.

 

Epic melancholy romanticism has always been one of Muse’s saving graces, a glorious rebuttal to snooty critics who hear only bombast and bluster in their music. But there is too little of it on this album, and too much middling Muse-by-numbers.

 

Great in parts, but flat and clumsy in others, Bellamy’s bid to become more serious appears to have stunted what he does best, which is operatic excess fuelled by volcanic emotion. To stretch a metaphor, Drones sometimes feels like it is flying on autopilot, and too often misses the target.

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Could you maybe post it or any relevant points in text form? The site says you need to sign up to read the whole thing.

 

"Lyrics are admittedly not Bellamy’s strongest point, but he has never crammed quite so many ungainly, clichéd and po-faced lines onto a single album before. Over the fluid, Coldplay-ish ripples of Mercy he envisages ‘men in cloaks trying to devour my soul’. On the fightback anthem Revolt, he claims ‘we live in a toxic jungle, truth is suppressed to a mumble.’ Ouch. At least Russell Brand would throw in a few knob gags to keep it interesting."

 

"Bellamy concedes there is “not a lot of love” on Drones. He’s right, but two stirring power ballads in the album’s closing stages warm up the overall emotional temperature. Aftermath begins very much like U2’s One, a slow-burn lament with a gently imploring circular guitar hook and a lyric full of battle-scarred, world-weary tenderness. Lovely."

 

"But Muse save their full 1812 Overture arsenal for The Globalist, a majestic finale which begins with whistles and twangs worthy of Ennio Morricone, erupts into a tumescent speed-metal riff monster midway through, then ends on a soaring Lloyd Webber-sized show-stopper about the imminent death of mankind: ‘A trillion memories lost in time forever!’ Bellamy howls as planets collide and stars implode."

 

"Great in parts, but flat and clumsy in others."

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Drones was co-produced by elder statesman Robert John ‘Mutt’ Lange, famous for his multi-platinum collaborations with AC/DC, Def Leppard, Bryan Adams and more. It’s an unexpected choice for Muse, perhaps, suggesting a move away from their baroque-and-roll sci-fi overdrive towards rock’s centre ground. There are still Queen-sized fanfares, maximalist flourishes and striking sonic experiments here, notably a hymnal a cappella title track composed purely of overlapping vocals. But the overall sound is polished and conventional, as Bellamy sets aside his past flirtations with pounding dubstep and punky electronics. Shame.

 

The sleeve design is also – how can we put this politely? – laugh-out-loud awful. Muse have always favoured ostentatious album artwork in the Pink Floyd tradition, even working with Floydian legend Storm Thorgerson. This time they opted for photographer and video director Matt Mahurin, who has previously done great work with Tom Waits, Marilyn Manson, Bon Jovi and many others. But Mahurin’s image of a giant Orwellian hand operating a faceless human joystick just looks amateurish and adolescent. The figure’s resemblance to a Peperami sausage only adds to the air of unintended comedy. Not a promising start.

 

The tracks loosely follow a fall-and-rise arc in which the narrator descends into totalitarian mind-control hell, before finally breaking free and fighting back. His journey begins with the U2-ish sparkle-rock shimmer of Dead Inside and the walloping fuzz-bass glam-rock groove of Psycho, a crudely effective workout for the band’s powerhouse rhythm section Chris Wolstenholme and Dominic Howard. The latter tune is prefixed by the short spoken-word track Drill Sergeant, which shares some of the same lyrics, and plays on stale movie stereotypes of the cruel military taskmaster: ‘your ass belongs to me now... your mind is just a program and I’m the virus.’ Subtle as a punch in the testicles.

 

Lyrics are admittedly not Bellamy’s strongest point, but he has never crammed quite so many ungainly, clichéd and po-faced lines onto a single album before. Over the fluid, Coldplay-ish ripples of Mercy he envisages ‘men in cloaks trying to devour my soul’. On the fightback anthem Revolt, he claims ‘we live in a toxic jungle, truth is suppressed to a mumble.’ Ouch. At least Russell Brand would throw in a few knob gags to keep it interesting.

 

Midway through the album sits JFK, a long extract of John F. Kennedy’s landmark 1961 speech in which he warned about a “monolithic and ruthless conspiracy” against democratic freedoms. He was talking about the Soviet Union, of course, though Muse believe this Cold War relic will resonate in our new mass-brainwashed Dark Ages. It’s a bold ambition, albeit fuzzy in intent, the rockstar equivalent of posting inspirational Morgan Freeman quotes on Facebook.

 

Bellamy concedes there is “not a lot of love” on Drones. He’s right, but two stirring power ballads in the album’s closing stages warm up the overall emotional temperature. Aftermath begins very much like U2’s One, a slow-burn lament with a gently imploring circular guitar hook and a lyric full of battle-scarred, world-weary tenderness. Lovely.

 

But Muse save their full 1812 Overture arsenal for The Globalist, a majestic finale which begins with whistles and twangs worthy of Ennio Morricone, erupts into a tumescent speed-metal riff monster midway through, then ends on a soaring Lloyd Webber-sized show-stopper about the imminent death of mankind: ‘A trillion memories lost in time forever!’ Bellamy howls as planets collide and stars implode. This is the way the world ends: with a bang and a whimper. And a symphony orchestra.

 

Epic melancholy romanticism has always been one of Muse’s saving graces, a glorious rebuttal to snooty critics who hear only bombast and bluster in their music. But there is too little of it on this album, and too much middling Muse-by-numbers.

 

Great in parts, but flat and clumsy in others, Bellamy’s bid to become more serious appears to have stunted what he does best, which is operatic excess fuelled by volcanic emotion. To stretch a metaphor, Drones sometimes feels like it is flying on autopilot, and too often misses the target.

 

Just as expected. It will be shit

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