Bad Religion
No Substance
[Atlantic]
Rating: 6.5
Alas, my friends, I fear the Bad Religion empire may be crumbling. Oh, we
saw earlier signs of deterioration. A highly suspect decision to sign to
Atlantic Records (how many times have they warned us about the dangers of
corporate America?), the departure of guitarist/songwriter Brett Gurewitz
(founder of the Epitaph label), and 1996's lackluster release, The Gray
Race all foreshadowed this once-pioneering band's fall from grace.
Hoping that I'd been intentionally led to anticipate the worst so as to make
the realization of an unaffected genius all the more impressive, I offered
to sell my body to receive an advance copy of Bad Religion's newest offering,
No Substance. My wish was granted, but preliminary rotations have
led me to pose the very serious question: is this all my creamy buttocks are
worth?
My worst expectations are immediately challenged by the opening track, "Hear
It." Here we have all the makings of a classic Bad Religion opener-- the
song is passionate, impatient, and best of all, it gets the job done in
under two minutes. What follows are a bunch of decent songs, though most
fail to maintain the same intensity. But the real problems don't begin until
we hit the title track. "No Substance" is an appropriate criticism of the
song itself-- the overall feel is far too lackadaisical to convince. And
after the stage has been set for disappointment, we're served "Raise Your
Voice," quite possibly the worst Bad Religion song ever recorded (naturally,
the band plans to release it as The Single). Here, the drawbacks of using a
big-time producer become most apparent-- the chanting, the drum breakdown
before the final chorus, and the desperate attempt at a pop hook all point
towards the impersonal and contrived strains of the music that spawned punk
rock in the first place.
These shameful shortcomings are thankfully isolated from the remainder of the
album. "The State of the End of the Millennium Address" is a thoughtful
satire that hearkens back to the band's first major release, How Could
Hell Be Any Worse? "The Voracious March of Godliness" proves that Greg
Graffin's penchant for "thesaurus rock" is still intact. "At the Mercy of
Imbeciles" is driven by the quick-paced rhythms that my friends and I
affectionately refer to as "the Bad Religion beat." The band's trademark
harmonies are divinely sprinkled throughout, though the frequency seems to
be more sparse than normal.
Admittedly, my first overall reaction to this album was one of disappointment,
but consecutive listens have caused me to reassess my position. Still, since
this is a band that's constantly encouraged fans not to settle for mediocrity,
why shouldn't we expect the same from them?
-Kevin Ruggeri