11 Songs, 46 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

Rob Zombie spends as much time behind the movie camera as he does the mixing board, therefore it’s no surprise that his albums have a cinematic sound and scope to them. Somewhere there’s a beach-party gore film with his name on it. “Jesus Frankenstein” is the sound of marching metal warriors with the standard metal chug expanding into a downward spiral. “Sick Bubblegum” adds an extra jumpcut bounce to its Judas Priest riff-rhythm, its ‘80s guitar solos and intimations of industrial music’s cold mechanics. “What?” suggests a demented surf-rock as the sea turns ugly. “Mars Needs Women” sounds like Zombie channeling Alice Cooper. “Werewolf, Baby!” and “Virgin Witch” throw some boogie riffs into their death grip. “Death and Destiny Inside the Dream Factory” puts a garage-rock raunch to Zombie’s kind of grinding pop tune. “Werewolf Women of the SS” jets right back onto Zombie’s sonic superhighway with motoring guitars and anxious rhythm.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Rob Zombie spends as much time behind the movie camera as he does the mixing board, therefore it’s no surprise that his albums have a cinematic sound and scope to them. Somewhere there’s a beach-party gore film with his name on it. “Jesus Frankenstein” is the sound of marching metal warriors with the standard metal chug expanding into a downward spiral. “Sick Bubblegum” adds an extra jumpcut bounce to its Judas Priest riff-rhythm, its ‘80s guitar solos and intimations of industrial music’s cold mechanics. “What?” suggests a demented surf-rock as the sea turns ugly. “Mars Needs Women” sounds like Zombie channeling Alice Cooper. “Werewolf, Baby!” and “Virgin Witch” throw some boogie riffs into their death grip. “Death and Destiny Inside the Dream Factory” puts a garage-rock raunch to Zombie’s kind of grinding pop tune. “Werewolf Women of the SS” jets right back onto Zombie’s sonic superhighway with motoring guitars and anxious rhythm.

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