Unravel? They sure did after Will of the People. Muse has been in an abysmal state for a few years now. Unravelling, the lead single from a yet-to-be-announced album sure to underwhelm, continues that mediocrity the band is synonymous with. A decade-long decline of studio relevancy has been buoyed by exceedingly bigger shows. Muse tries to build a big comeback with the muffled grunting which opens Unravelling, but they slip into dangerous territory. When the world has rejected your woeful electropop and hollow cultural commentaries, the only route available is one littered with nostalgic reminders. Unravelling is a chance for Muse to make their way back to a time when their sound was progressive. But twenty years is a long while to wait, and now the Matt Bellamy-led trio are headed down memory lane, they are keen to seek out the comfort of familiar tones.
They are damned if they do work on a new sound, and damned if they do not. Part of the problem comes from the band not having anything of interest to back the noise they make. Simulation Theory and Will of the People were both miserable, not because Muse departed from their tried and tested sound, but because it has taken them as far as they can go. Unravelling hears the band stick themselves in reverse, backtracking their way to so-called better times. The worst person you know will headbang to this as though it has unlocked a new part of their soul. As if the fog has cleared by listening to a repetitive guitar which plays out those redundant few notes always associated with Muse. This is a stock option for Muse, who remain an unconvincing outfit relying on loudness and instrumental angst to make up for their lifeless lyrics.
Bellamy brags about his love for another being unique, yet his lyrics work in with a set of conventional, easily identifiable cliches. A hymn for his love without the beauty of intimate clarity. That inevitable quiet, loud, and quiet again momentum does very little for those sick of hearing the same sound from a scattershot of other alternative rock bands. Muse is no longer standing out from the pack. They have reached the ceiling of their talent, a bungalow-height understanding of instruments. It is not as though they are trying to blow into the neck of their guitars or plucking at a microphone, though they may as well, given how little emotion is on show here. Unravelling feels like further stock. An excuse to take the band back on the road rather than an intense or passionate display of love.
Bellamy has at least left off his interpretations of a dystopian world. His puddle-deep musings on the world around him hit the end of the road on Will of the People. Chanting the title of a disappointing album is very much his Nineteen Eighty-Four. You can tell he was inspired by the word Orwellian and a side glance at Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep because most Muse covers (and his solo album) feel like cheap rips on A Scanner Darkly. Muse returns with Unravelling, and our ears, hearts, and minds are worse for it. Their grasp of the dystopian landscape, their tone of love in the face of horror, falls massively short of what a band with this longevity should be capable of making. Muse were never great lyricists, but even turning to their instrumental work on Unravelling leaves much to be desired. Bellamy and company sound as though they are scraping at our souls. Noises made from cracking forks across a plate are much more desirable.
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