“World’s Apart”, the Trail Of Dead’s fourth album and second for a major label, is an ambitious project in just about every sense. There’s the packaging for a start (and this is one lavishly packaged disc) which contains extra live tracks, a bonus DVD and gatefold Hieronymus Bosch-style cover that even Rick Wakeman in his pomp might have passed on as just a tad excessive.
And that’s not even taking into consideration an opening track, “Ode To Isis”, that consists of little more than bombastic orchestration and an Omen choir incanting the names of Egyptian gods. Hey, ho, lets go: “Isis! Horus! Ra!”. What we’re dealing with here is the left-field equivalent of Green Day’s unfathomably-praised “American Idiot” – a song cycle struggling to understand the vacuous appeal of modern life, albeit one that alludes to some fantastical medieval netherworld.
This is summed-up pretty effectively by lead singer Conrad Keely on the bilious title track which encompasses 9/11, soccer moms and the BBC: “Look at those c*nts on MTV with their cars and cribs and rings and sh*t – is that what being a celebrity means?”
Banging further nails into the American Dream, he concludes: “We’re so f*cked these days, we don’t know to hate or who to praise, yet we consider this our suffering and pain when we’re so privileged.” In other words: buck up you lily-livered sack of Generation X-er’s…didn’t you know there’s a war on?
Quite how seriously we should take this from a trio of nihilistic Texan slackers best known for destroying their instruments is another matter. But, this aside, “Worlds Apart” is a frequently astonishing album that combines bruising rock and limp-wristed flourish in almost equal measure. Having been handed the keys to Interscope’s kingdom you’ve got to congratulate them for making hay like this.
Their excessiveness is immediately apparent on “The Rest Will Follow” which switches from a staccato riff of maximum ferocity to the sweetest pop song (possibly something by the Red House Painters) at a wrist’s flick, or “Caterwaul” which alternates between similarly macho thrash and a soft piano breakdown. There’s even hints of shoegazing (“Let It Dive”), Queen (“All White”) and a comical string interlude (“To Russia My Homestead” ).
Like the Flaming Lips’ “Soft Bulletin” – although sounding nothing like it – the whole project feels like a minor band being mistakenly allowed to spend far too much major label money. Not so much a case of being unable to find the brakes, as not looking for them in the first place.
Which isn’t to say “World’s Apart” punches above its weight. Despite the occasional whiff of indulgence, it mostly connects just fine.
