Ever stop to consider all the mind-numbing tribute albums circulating amongst the confused and mystified record-buying public? How many of these so-called tribute albums generate anything more than dull apathy, if not outright revulsion? I hereby propose that no more tributes of this sort be allowed until the artist being paid tribute to is dead, or has at least hinted at an imminent death.

This craze began in the form of tributes to people that actually mattered-- the 13th Floor Elevators, the Velvet Underground, Leonard Cohen. Now, get on your knees, knaves, and all hail spooky industrial- dance gods Ministry. What next? An Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians tribute? Michael Hutchence, maybe? Say, is he really dead, by the way?

Here, the never-changing moods of Al Jourgensen and his Ministry incarnations are represented by a cast of amateurish dark synth-meisters and mini-Ministry rip-off bands we all obviously know and enjoy on a daily basis: Pig, Hate Dept., Meathead, and Not Breathing, among other non-notables. Adequately reproduced is the sound of Ministry's Depeche Mode period, which produced the listener-oriented dance-pop of "Everyday is Halloween," and the classic Goth gloom-disco of "Effigy," from 1983's With Sympathy. These songs were, admittedly, the perfect 80's odes to juvenile outsiderness and shameless self-pity-- a valid "why can't I dress in black and still be socially acceptable" sort of stance.

Soon enough, though, Jourgensen learned that it would require more than just a little melancholic protest to frighten the little ones into buying his product. He had to resort to more extreme measures, both in his music, and his band's image. Maybe Jourgensen learned great stylistic lessons from the hardest working hate machine in show business, Trent Reznor. Who knows? Regardless, Jourgensen became, arguably, an even darker version of the exceedingly pitch-black, night-like Reznor.

Beginning with the metal-laced shock-rock of The Land of Rape and Honey in 1988, we were initially exposed to the "advanced" and mature version of Ministry. They'd moved beyond their previously semi-gloomy outcast-rock and aligned themselves with what the kids really wanted: self-obsessed songwriting, suicide, metallic musical sterility, fatalist doom-posturing, empty nihilism, petty Paganism, and romantic death-wishes.

Yep, they re-cast themselves as black-clad hardcore heroin and death-fixated fiends, getting rid of whatever hint of musicality they'd previously possessed and opting for a more one-dimensional death-metal crunch, robotic rhythms, and raspy, evil vocals reminiscent of Linda Blair in "The Exorcist." Of course, after the commercial industrial thrash of Psalm 69 hit big in 1992, Jourgensen & Co. were rolling in evil dough. Meanwhile, their music was fulfilling its grand purpose-- Psalm 69's harsh metallic strains served as a surrogate cry for help from countless inarticulate, persecuted 12-year olds sent to bed without dessert one too many times.

Now, judging by my incredibly lengthy and cynical overview of Ministry's music and history, one would naturally assume I was procrastinating. "Listen, asshole, just tell us web surfers whether or not we should buy the goddamn tribute disc," you urge. Well, kids, I don't really have much to say about Wish You Were Queer, specifically, because the content of the disc demands to be ignored or, at best, ridiculed and quickly forgotten.

Although TRS-80's interpretation of "Everyday is Halloween" stands up to the original, it doesn't really deviate from the Ministry version much. In fact, none of the cover versions here offer much beyond boring, faithful hero-worship. Eco-Head does cook up a frenzied but monotonous break-beat re-working of "Isle of Man" off 1986's Twitch. "Isle of Man," is another one of those predictable dark, industrial-dance songs in which the vocalist insists that we, you, or someone will "get what they deserve," at some point.

Female industrialists Death Ride 69 do a ridiculously overwrought version of a particularly pathetic excuse for a song, "Burning Inside," from 1989's The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste. "Burning Inside" could easily be a less tuneful, single-chord version of INXS's "Devil Inside." And certainly, deep, cerebral songwriters like James Hetfield and Trent Reznor must be floored by lines like, "I'm scared of the darkness and the light/ I scare myself because I know I'm right." Oh, and wait until you hear the synthetic industrial version of "Lay Lady Lay," which as you may know, is a cover of Ministry covering a Dylan song-- obviously, it's about female submission and sexual subservience, and, y'know, S&M; in general.

And please, someone explain to me the origins of a title like Wish You Were Queer and how it relates to the band Ministry. As my girlfriend wondered, astonished: "They're not queer, are they?" I ask you, how could such a tough, ornery-looking band not like women? Nevermind.

-Michael Sandlin