Muse, and
Matt Bellamy in particular, make no bones about
Drones: their seventh album is political through and through, a bold statement concerning the dehumanization of modern warfare. As
Muse is not a subtle band -- any suspicion they were is erased by the artwork depicting a hand controlling the joystick of an office drone controlling a joystick directing drones -- it's hard to avoid their conclusion that war is bad, but this inclination to write everything in bold, italicized capital letters is an asset when it comes to music, particularly here where they've teamed with legendary hard rock producer
Robert John "Mutt" Lange. Always a sucker for oversized guitar riffs and bigger drums,
Lange also allows the trio to indulge in a bit of
Floydian fantasies -- the made-to-order dialogue of "Drill Sergeant" is straight out of
The Wall -- but he spends much of
Drone sharpening
Muse's synthesis of every arena rock idea ever essayed. Echoes of other bands can certainly be heard -- an early
Radiohead influence still lingers, due largely to
Bellamy's vocal phrasing, but that can soften into a glimmer reminiscent of
Coldplay, while elsewhere they aim for the majesty of
U2 and the showboating velocity of
Van Halen ("Reapers" opens with an erupting hurricane of finger-tapping pyrotechnics), but this absurdly overstuffed synthesis is unmistakably
Muse's own, so thunderous it drowns out any good intentions the band may have had.