Here come the drones: Muse return to Birmingham in grand form

Where next? Short of featuring inter-dimensional portals or a functional greenhouse onstage, Muse have readily fulfilled what it means to be an all-conquering stadium-slaying band. The Teignmouth trio, out in force supporting last year’s discography-uplifting Drones, have taken their already quite fucking mental stage show to new ceiling-punching heights.

A decade ago, the Black Holes & Revelations show was a retina-wrecking spectacle in its own right; the following Resistance tour featured three blooming towers in which Matt, Dom and Chris stood; while The 2^nd Law tour had a giant ensemble of dynamic screens that gradually closed over the band. Toss in a fair few stadium-swallowing treks and scorched-earth festival appearances and you’ve got a seriously formidable act.

As title-track Drones filled the Barclaycard Arena, the promised computer-controlled "swarm" of drones finally revealed itself. Only slightly sinister (so not completely in accordance with the dark imagery of the album and the rest of the show), they are in fact floating ping-pong balls, gently sashaying around the arena in an almost David Copperfield-esque moment of open-mouthed wonder.

The drones in flight, during Supermassive Black Hole.

In another Copperfield moment, the levitating ostrich eggs line themselves up peacefully down the stage’s runways, and we realise the act is introduction but also magical misdirection, as Muse finally emerge and swing into the gloriously punchy Pyscho.

Eager to please, the hoary old Plug In Baby is wheeled out and administers a good arse-kicking to everyone not already moving. Slightly irritatingly, classic notions of keeping the pacing are thrown to the wind as Dead Inside then lumbers into view, followed by The 2nd Law: Isolated System and another new'un, The Handler. 

All are objectively fine, but slow the show down and stand in the place of, say, New Born.

As if responding to this impression, Supermassive Black Hole moonwalks through the arena, bringing the drones out with it, wafting over the crowd. Bizarrely, the orchestral prelude to Survival then precedes the irresistibly anthemic Starlight, but the pair - now ten years old! - have become staples in their own right. 

The juggernaut that is Citizen Erased then thunders out from Muse’s back catalogue, pacifying any old-time fans and answering desires for several classics in one go, with Bellamy taking to the grand piano for its emotional wind-down. It is a treat indeed, possibly a magnum opus and always welcome. 

Note Bellamy's red 7-string guitar for Citizen Erased. The potato loved it.

While the intervals aren't as annoying as, say, the instrumental jams and guitar solos employed by Guns N' Roses in previous years, they make the fine line between presentation of art and a blast-through of songs wobble slightly. Happily, Muse are old hands at this and get the balance right, even if the more nuanced moments are nearly drowned out by mindless chatter from surrounding blithering boar-faces bores in the standing area, for no gig of this size is free of these eternal twats.

After the traditional drum-and-bass jam, Muse finally approach an uninterrupted run-through: the unashamed pop of Madness and giddying space-rock of Map of the Problematique are dealt out, only for another interlude: the John F. Kennedy speech sampled in the Drones album that precedes uplifting stomp-rocker Defector in its tracklisting - this is revealed to be another bit of misdirection when two of the old guard in Stockholm Syndrome and Time is Running Out get the crowd almost jumping high enough to knock the drones out of the sky. 

A couple of after-song riffs (including Led Zeppelin's Heartbreaker) and fist-pump anthem Uprising are given well-received airings, then Muse try out their arguably proggiest undertaking since the Exogenesis symphonies: The Globalist, referenced by Bellamy as something of a sequel to Citizen Erased. A hydra-headed musical beast, it is perhaps the greatest showcase of the new stage show and its themes, not least when a slightly wanky drone plane flies over the crowd and Matt revisits his piano. 

Ticker-tape tomfoolery for Mercy.

Before saying goodnight, the slow burning of Take a Bow and Muse's newest anthem, Mercy, with its accompanying ticker-tape explosions, set the stage for the immortal clarion call of Knights of Cydonia. 

There are probably around five artist and bands with anything approaching Muse's statesmanship, showmanship, and absolute dominance of the arena-show in the universe right now. While it's mind-boggling to think of how they can top this, in the meantime one of the great acts of our time are still readily available for your delectation. Got your ticket yet?

Review: Muse - 'Drones'

The world continues to resemble an appallingly-written sci-fi movie by every passing day, so it feels especially righteous to have a fresh slab of music from popular rock's most endearing riff-wielding commentators, Muse. 

Album number seven, with the band noting a marked return to the primal guitar-bass-drums setup of their earlier works, comes with its own narrative: indeed, Matt, Dom and Chris have even expressed enthusiasm for Drones to be adapted into some form of musical.

Possibly to nix the allure of potential album leaks, Muse have pre-empted the release of Drones with not just the expected slew of singles, but approximately half the album. Psycho was the first out the gate, providing a musical home for a guitar riff that Bellamy has been throwing around for almost all of the band's history. 

The Drill Sergeant barking that precedes it is one of two interludes on the album, recalling Tool's fondness for such between-song pieces that allow the listener to breath and take a detour through disembodied planes before stumbling directly back into the album's narrative. 

Dead Inside followed, despite this Undisclosed Desires-turned-nasty stuttering disco stomper actually opening the album, possibly to allay fears of Bellamy talking a load of bells about the supposed return to Planet Rock. When received by the masses, it prompted confusion - it wasn't pureblood rock, but wasn't meat-and-potatoes either, proving Muse hadn't lost their appetite for exploration.

Next up, in both pre-album releases as well as Drones' actual running order, cometh Mercy and Reapers, which history may pinpoint as the overall album's standout tracks. Mercy proudly shows off its musical lineage, carrying several elements from past songs such as Starlight, Follow Me as well as setlist cornerstone Stockholm Syndrome, juicing the ingredients into a fantastic slice of glittercannon pop-rock.

Reapers takes the madness further with a so-so verse that gives way triumphantly to Rage Against The Machine-turned-glam guitar work, featuring a fabulously jubilant  - and dare I say it, sassy - guitar solo with the greatest chorus of the whole album. A surefire gem.

The Handler sits stubbornly at the album's core, guitar riff reaching out in several directions like a drowsy belligerent octopus. It provides the uneasiest experience amongst the tracklisting, but not without showcasing Muse's songwriting prowess.

The second of the interludes, JFK, features the great man himself blathering before Bellamy and co kick the door down with Defector, (yet) another monstrously rocking track that wields its hammerblow riffs and Queen-esque backing vocals, Matt in a pleasingly defiant mood that contrasts with the negativity preceding it over the course of some of the album's first half. 

After the usual dizzying carousel of thick-stringed riffery, bombast and epic themes, Revolt is a not entirely unpleasant prospect but its city-stomping predecessors leave such a mark that it nearly drops the baton. It may please those who wish for a simpler song, but history may consign it to the dusty corner of unloved filler tracks (see also: Explorers and Guiding Light).

Then again, it may be the intention to wind down the musical intensity as the narrative reaches its conclusion. Aftermath almost recalls the woozy sway of past tracks such as Blackout and the three-part Exogenesis Symphony, but is slightly too watery and ultimately fails to make a meaningful impression.

Ten-minute-monster The Globalist pointedly defies any notion of bringing things to a gentle halt with a heady mix of unadulterated fearlessness, albeit with slightly wobbly execution. Whilst not the greatest thing Muse have ever committed to tape, it inarguably succeeds in marking out Muse as one of the most interesting acts to tap the Top 10 on the shoulder before lending it a copy of 1984. 

Closing this chapter in Muse's history is the album's title track, in which Bellamy clones himself and forces the assembled Matts at Manson-point to all sing at the same time. It's a strange soup of the man exploring the different levels of his still-brilliant voice, but also sounds like several vocal warm-up takes being played at the same time. As album closers go, only time will have the final word on whether it truly works or not.

A cabal of longtime Musers wait, agonised, for Muse to return to the form they built their career and legend on. Drones doesn't completely hark back to those times, because nostalgia is a backwards glance and Muse have never done anything else except march into the future. For that, they cannot be criticised. 

7.5/10

Review: Muse - 'Mercy' (Single)

As new songs from Muse's upcoming seventh album Drones break out like laser beams burning through the brick walls of the muscle museum, Matt Bellamy's claims of stripping back all the Queen-preening operatics, theatrics and vocal acrobatics in favour of good-old meat & potatoes rock is slowly being met with puzzlement from ardent fans.

First up was Psycho, a long-awaited musical home for a guitar riff almost as old as Muse itself, frequently tagged on to the end of certain songs live. It appeared to fulfil Bellamy's announcements of a grand return to planet rock, but was derided in some parts by whinging twats for being boring. Evident that you cannot please every bastard - especially when you're at Muse's level and can level entire stadia in virtually city in the star system, recruiting innumerable followers with every squealing slice of gargantuan lightsaber pop-rock.

Following this was Dead Inside, seemingly an about-turn from Psycho's primal riffery. Sounding like Undisclosed Desires' evil brother with its stuttering drums and bass, with Bellamy's guitar arriving late to the disco, it promptly split a lot of onlookers down the middle: either a disappointing continuation of the electro-pop leanings that turned off a few fans, or a relief to hear that Muse were not about to cut off their musically curious side. Whatever indication it might have been of the eventual full-length, it was still pretty damn good.

Finally, we come to the very latest offering: Mercy. Referred to by one wag as 'Starlight Syndrome', referencing its gleaming pop sheen and teasingly chugging guitar forming part of the tapestry beneath Bellamy's ironically merciless soundcannon wail in the chorus, Mercy appears to perch between those two while clutching the severed central hook of Follow Me, air-punching single from previous long-player The 2nd Law.

The vocal-following piano notes of Starlight are present, with a dazzlingly bright production lifting the proceedings into the air and into the raised hands of the tour-following disciples. It veers off from there, however, by simply being more up-tempo, with one hand firmly around the listener's neck and another on their balls. 

But is it rock? Pop-rock, yes. Those looking forward to the promised balls-out ROCK may have to hope there are riffy gems posted deep amongst the Drones tracklisting, because Mercy doesn't appear to fit that bill.

What it does do, however, is provide Muse with (yet) another OTT pop-rock monster that features traceable lines back through their dynasty of increasingly signature brand of this sort of thing, shooting glitter-guns in several musical directions at once: a worthy successor to Starlight and Follow Me, perhaps as Drones' grand continuation of their process.

Long may it continue - who else manages to sound this big nowadays?


'Drones' is released June 8th.
Muse will bring Christ only knows what to the main stage at Download Festival 2015 on Saturday 13th June.

Listen to Mercy below:

Review: Muse - 'Psycho' (Single)

So. Matt Bellamy warned us (or soothed us) with tales of a stripped-back sound for the new Muse album, now absolutely, totally, properly confirmed as the blunt-sounding Drones. It's interesting to see that even the title retains the same minimalistic feeling as the music is supposed to, and the tracklisting for the impending album is almost entirely made up of equally blunt one-word song titles. So far, more blunt than a James Blunt family gathering.

It's some surprise, then, that new track Psycho is a musical long-awaited home for a guitar riff (known as the '0-3-0-5-0 riff') that Bellamy has been dicking around with for several years, Muse often launching into it by means of an outro to Stockholm Syndrome in concerts. This opens a debate: if the lead single is a queasy mixture of new and old, what can be said for the rest of the album?

Anyway, on to the single itself, which is pleasingly rocking, and feels like a spiritual successor to 2009 single Uprising in its steady fist-pumping pace. A drill sergeant features throughout, yelling at a soldier, while Bellamy yells 'Your ass belongs to me now!', a line which finely treads between being acceptable and just a bit cringeworthy - as is the swearing, which is either Muse flopping their balls on the musical table or trying slightly too hard to be edgy.

It may seem that they cannot win, as some will inevitably find Psycho's meat-and-potatoes approach boring, missing the sonic explorations of previous singles Madness and Follow Me, excellent songs that drew a collective 'Oh' from a large portion of the fanbase.

Here's hoping that Drones will be a blend of Muse's best traits; much-loved past albums such as Absolution and Black Holes & Revelations have successfully blended their ASDA-sized riffs, orchestral backings and sense of adventure immensely, while the subsequent The Resistance and The 2nd Law saw the quality barrier dip slightly. 

Muse have proven themselves as world-beaters several times over - hopefully they'll get right back where they belong, at the top of the pile.