ROB ZOMBIE

When faced with the prospect of a new ROB ZOMBIE album, I am always reminded of what the man himself said to me during an interview some years ago. While bemoaning the fact that the internet had successfully destroyed any notion of mystique or otherworldly allure from the world of rock'n'roll, Rob simply noted that, "nothing is cool anymore." He had a point. With so many bands at pains to stress how ordinary and relatable they are, particularly via the loathsome platform of social media, genuine, mind-blowing rock stars have become harder and harder to find. And while there is certainly some value in the gritty, unpretentious approach that many prefer, it takes a rock star of Rob Zombie's caliber to fly the flag for something more exciting, otherworldly and free from the mundane preoccupations of boring, everyday life.

Thankfully, "The Great Satan" confirms that his statement still rings true. Like a fire-breathing, cartoon warlock from a dimension much more bizarre and inspirational than our own, he has made another album that dares to dream of crackpot excesses and kaleidoscopic insanity. Simultaneously futuristic and old school, "The Great Satan" is a rock 'n' roll record belched from the swirling depths of one unusually creative man's imagination: And it rocks like an absolute motherfucker.

There have plainly been times over the last 25 years when ROB ZOMBIE has seemed more interested in making movies than pursuing a musical career. But while his celluloid exploits have always been polarizing, his intermittent musical endeavors have somehow retained the strength of focus and eccentric commitment to detail that first endeared the great man to a global audience, back in the days of WHITE ZOMBIE. "The Great Satan" follows a run of albums that may not have achieved the staggering success of his biggest triumphs ("Astro-Creep: 2000 – Songs Of Love, Destruction And Other Synthetic Delusions Of The Electric Head" (1995) and 1998's solo debut "Hellbilly Deluxe") but that, upon further inspection, were just as militantly original and unhinged. For those who enjoyed "Venomous Rat Regeneration Vendor" (2013),"The Electric Warlock Acid Witch Satanic Orgy Celebration Dispenser" (2016) and 2021's "The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy", "The Great Satan" offers a fresh take on the same thrillingly perverse ingredients. Aside from having a more manageable and less deranged title, ROB ZOMBIE's eighth studio album echoes its predecessors in the best way possible. It is cool. It is funny. It is heavy. It is, in the best possible way, profoundly fucked up. Most importantly, "The Great Satan" is overstocked with great songs, great riffs and plenty of evidence that its creator was beamed to Earth to make our musical lives more eventful and enjoyable. If nothing is cool anymore, at least ROB ZOMBIE is fucking trying.

It begins with a brutish restating of principles. "F.T.W. 84" is a classic ZOMBIE rocker with a shout-along refrain that should resonate with most sane people: "Fuck the world! Fuck it all! This is 1984…" The guitars are monstrous but processed in such a way that they sound deliciously alien and gnarly, and the singer's sheer disdain for politicians and the anti-human system they perpetuate is practically chewable. Next, "Tarantula" weaves fidgeting electronics and groovy thrash machine-gun fire into the mix, with menacing, goofy lyrics sprayed over the riffs like toxic insecticide. "(I'm A) Rock N Roller" and "Heathen Days" follow, both with hooks big enough to snare a sperm whale, and a persistent undercurrent of quasi-industrial, futuristic kitsch that revels in macabre synth squiggles and oceans of distortion. This is vintage ROB ZOMBIE, and it is absurdly entertaining, particularly at an obnoxious volume. The stage show will be wild.

Elsewhere, "The Great Satan" harbors plenty of twisted surprises. "Black Rat Coffin" is as grimy and gut-wrenching as its title suggests; "Sir Lord Acid Wolfman" is a slithering, shuffling exercise in shadowy menace and drugged-out, hip-hop-tinged sludge; "Punks And Demons" is fast, furious and uncompromising; and the mid-paced, monster stomp of "Revolution Motherfuckers" is a feast of sardonic one-liners and rabble-rousing pugilism, with the striking image of our protagonist "hiding in the closet with a baseball bat". "The Black Scorpion" is another gem: 93 seconds of snotty hardcore punk, it belies the notion that, at age 61, Rob Zombie is heading towards cozy retirement. On this evidence, he seems to be picking up steam again. Nothing was cool anymore, so someone had to do something.

"The Great Satan" is a devilish rock 'n' roll delight.