Muse Makes Us Their "Drones"

It has been fascinating to watch Muse evolve during their career from a fizzy mixture of alt-glam with a decidedly electronic edge to now graduating near the top of their class as full-blown arena superstars. With their latest album, "Drones," they have successfully tweaked the formula that made them famous, and the school of rock is back in session.

The sweep and scope of Muse's recent albums -- 2009's "The Resistance" and 2012's "The 2nd Law" -- were benchmarks that raised the bar for the band and their contemporaries. This entry in their discography is on par with them artistically, but in terms of the sound, it hews a bit closer to the straightforward nature of their earlier works. Admittedly, the structure of the album is something of a puzzle. An already short track list includes two brief interludes, "Drill Sergeant" and "JFK," that are thematic reinforcements but hardly necessary. Meanwhile, "The Globalist" clocks in at just over 10 minutes, so the run time more or less balances itself out.

Lyrically, themes of technology, paranoia, oppression, and revolution have been common for the group in the past, but never as explicitly as they are here. What exactly is Muse so afraid of? In this era of instant information and connectivity, "Drones" provides a daring and highly relevant analogy, deciphering the fate of personal relationships through the macrocosm of the fate of the free world. Thankfully, fans and critics seem to enjoy them, so at least they don't have to worry about that!

Muse songs tend to have a pop sheen (some thinner than others) to make their rock vibes glisten for a mainstream audience. More often than not, that layer is gleefully scraped away here. The grinding, industrial guitar squeals and insistent bass lines that ignite many of the tracks make the album sound big, but its target is small and on-point. There's enough modulation and variety in the music to keep it from ever feeling like a one-note assault. As usual, vocalist Matt Bellamy is in fine form, matching the tone of each track from passionately plaintive ("Mercy") to a defiant falsetto ("The Handler") and daring the listener to doubt his convictions. In the rock genre, I definitely respect that Bellamy remembers to use his voice as an instrument. His singing is powerful enough to snarl the snark and satire of his lyrics without resorting to the showy vocal tics that can doom otherwise potent performers.

The sound and perspective of the album have a genuinely cohesive impact, but almost to a fault. Oddly, there isn't a standout track that can be isolated for casual listening. Even the singles released to radio so far, "Dead Inside" and "Psycho," are solid on the album but not overly catchy on their own merits. While the later tracks loosen their grip enough to lighten the mood a little, the album still functions better as a whole, so one would be remiss to skip around in search of favorites. In the end, "Drones" becomes an album in the truest sense of the word: a collection of songs specifically designed and compiled to convey a message, or perhaps an experience. In Muse's case, they have once again proven that they are capable of doing both.

Among other things, this album as well as the band itself exist to warn us against being mindless followers -- of people, political parties, or even music industry trends. Ironically, I'm ready to enlist without reservation for whatever Bellamy and friends have planned next. Their cautionary vision of the future is far more compelling than most of what passes for entertainment today.