What prompted this review was the Internet fan reaction; they're severely outraged at all critics of the album. They feel we don't understand the complex layers and raw emotive evocations of their music. They see a landscape of vast vistas and rich imagery. And they hear something that reaches down and shakes the very foundation of their being — which happens to be a urinal cake for the recording industry.
This album is a eunuch of rock. It's been sterilized for your safety, and it's devoid of any controversy or original thought. And while I would love to sit here and musically analyze each track, I can barely tell them apart. I now remember it as one bland, redundant song. And that somewhat describes the fans. They are mostly unremarkable people who express themselves by parroting each others' intellectually devoid and unimaginative thoughts.
Living Things sounds like a compilation album of contrasting session artist collaborations: Nasally boy band rocker vs Disney rapper, bored guitarist vs a midi file — an entire collection of annoying tracks by tired musicians taking orders from a suit. And even if they were doing something more than following their own paint by numbers pages, it would still sound gimmicky ... because it is.
I do still have a tiny nostalgic soft spot for them. Linkin Park was practically the soundtrack to the early 00s arcade scene. And songs like Crawling and One Step Closer really spoke to my teenage dirtbag self. But this album is just proof that the rap rock / nu metal fad is on its last leg as aging angst rockers struggle to appeal to anyone, anymore.
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