White Zombie: Astrocreep 2000 (A Review)

I read an old interview with Rob Zombie the other day (circa '96), and he was asked if he thought that White Zombie would last another ten years. He said no in a rather blunt manner. He predicted that he would be directing movies by then. Quite the fatidic prophet, no? While I loved House of 1,000 Corpses and The Devil'sRejects, a part of me wishes that White Zombie were still a functional unit. Rob is a totally gnarly dude, but his solo material didn't sit well with me. It's far too formulaic and homogenized. He also seems to have lost his throaty growl in favor of a strident whine that I can barely stomach. Just look at the song titles for further proof that White Zombie should reunite. What's cooler? "Never Gonna Stop" or "El Phantasmo and the Chicken Run Blast-O-Rama"? I won't use the "l" word, but Rob has been getting lazy with his musical output over the past few years. Well, I used it anyway.

Astrocreep 2000: Songs of Love, Destruction, and Other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head (I'm only typing that once) helped spark a trend that still hasn't died out. I'm referring to the brand of "dance metal" that bands such as Static-X and Powerman 5000 have aped. This recycled banality has bled over into the godawful Scum of the Earth and the why-do-so-many-goth-chicks-dig-this-guy Wednesday 13. No one has come close to replicating the heady, unlaundered energy of White Zombie. While I'm not sure if I prefer this album to La Sexorcisto, I can safely say that it's addictive. It opens with a boffo sample to get you in the mood and then administers a protective layer of pipe organs to lubricate your horror senses. "Electric Head Pt. 1 (The Agony)" thumps your skull with little to no warning. The barebones simplicity of this track can be trying, but it's the perfect tune to inaugurate a Halloween Party with.

"Supercharger Heaven" is easily one of my favorite songs in the White Zombie catalogue. It's just straightforward rock 'n' roll without the techno enamel that plasters the rest of the album. I don't mind Astrocreep 2000's electronic mise-en-scene, but I do miss La Sexorcisto's organic vibe. The upside to this downside is that the production is clearer than something really clear. The album sounds like it was recorded yesterday, which is a stark contrast to La Sexorcisto's muffled production. "Creature of the Wheel" is another keeper, what with its churning groove and its glottal, rumbling riffage. It also features a guitar solo of sorts. Unfortunately, Astrocreep 2000 is sorely lacking in leads, but perhaps tinsel axework wouldn't have meshed with the helLP's (worst demonstration of word play of all time) demonic disco sonancy.

And then there's "More Human Than Human." Who hasn't heard this song? Even unborn children have heard its raunchy intro, its distinctive slide guitar, and its headbang-conducive rhythm. I don't know how to rate it objectively, but I thought that it was neat-o in 1995. As this ghoulish collocation of camped up threnodies draws to a close, the energy level begins to abate. "El Phantasmo" and "Blur the Technicolor" blend into one another, and neither song is particularly memorable. "Blood, Milk, and Sky" caps things off the right way, however, with soothing Middle-Eastern melodies and hypnotic percussion courtesy of John Tempesta. Wait, soothing? Yep, soothing. Taken out of context, it might not seem worthwhile, but this doomy dirge is an ideal album closer. A White Zombie reunion? Don't hold your breath, unless Leslie Nielson buries you up to your neck in sand. Hey, it could happen...