Mike Patton is running for president. He's going to get John Zorn to be his Secretary of State, the Melvins to be his army and Dave Lombardo to kick the shit out of all the people who didn't vote for him. He's also going to slowly gather all his other fave pals and give them cush jobs at the Ipecac Centre for Intellect and Freak Metal-- and all of this in the name of balancing karma in an oh-so homogenized world. Unfortunately, it's not as easy as it sounds; President Patton can't deliver quality freak metal just by snapping his fingers. Just like other idealistic young over-achievers (Zorn, Makoto Kawabata of Acid Mothers Temple), his desire to break through the paltry provisions afforded most new music only means that he'll get an A for effort, if not necessarily for output. Alas, Patton will never be president. Though if this record is any indication, it's just as well.

Millennium Monsterwork is one of the more surprising disappointments I've heard this year. Theoretically, a meeting of last century's most notorious sludge thrashers and one the most promising groups bringing experimental metal into the new century should be guaranteed goes-to-11 gold. Wrong. The "Big Band" runs through a repertoire of Melvins tunes and songs from Fantômas' most recent release, The Director's Cut. But the problem here isn't the material; it's the execution. Chiefly, despite a valiant effort by the principal players, the sound is so muddy that it's almost as if it was recorded by an audience member; what energy there might have been is strangled into second-hand perfunctory 'wackiness' and indistinct bashing. Even the audience sounds worn out from the tedium by the time this disc clocks out.

The concert starts with the guitar warning sirens of "Good Morning Slaves" and seems poised to takeoff, only to run headfirst into a monolithic wall of cloudy drums (a serious offense when Dave Lombardo and Dale Crover are on the thrones) and annoyingly non-essential Patton (as he seems throughout) accents. Even the good stuff, like the potentially intense rave-up "Ol' Black Stooges" and the spooky, just-experimental-enough-to-be-interesting "Me and the Flamer" are stripped of much-needed fire by the bootleg ambience.

It's probably unfair to lay all the blame on Patton for this record, though it's very tempting because: 1) it came out on his label (more than a year after the actual show, I might add-- when the most noteworthy thing about a performance is its date, is an album really required?) and Faith No More pension aside, I wouldn't figure he has lots of room for non-essential discs; and 2) it takes some doing to turn a show with Fantômas and Melvins into something so, well, lame. Studio records and boots will have to do until the next round, which will hopefully include a better mix and something to keep Patton busy.

-Dominique Leone, September 16th, 2002