25 Years of Hellbilly Deluxe

Recently I had occasion to see Rob Zombie in concert, and he was talking about the 25th anniversary of his album “Hellbilly Deluxe” and it got me to thinking: what is it about that album? It still resonates after so many years without fading.  Certainly it’s surrounded by contemporary albums of similar or even greater success (some of the works of Marilyn Manson come to mind.) Rammstein, Korn, a few others that were contemporaries of Rob Zombie at that time all had their moment or moments.  But it’s interesting that most of them have faded, or been forgotten, and even Rob to some degree isn’t at the apex that he used to be.  It should be noted for context, it’s easy to forget that at the time of the release of “Hellbilly Deluxe,” there was a brief moment for the next two or three years where Rob Zombie was on an even playing field with names like Metallica.  Now, Metallica was at the nadir of their mainstream popularity at that moment. Even so, Rob Zombie was in the same sentence as the mighty Met, and a large part of that was due to the release of “Hellbilly Deluxe,” which, of course was possessed of such superior singles as “Superbeast” and the omnipresent “Dragula” and “Living Dead Girl.”

There’s a certain gray area within “Hellbilly Deluxe” that obfuscates, albeit unintentionally, the transmutation of White Zombie into Rob Zombie.  After all, the transition into Rob Zombie as a solo artist seemed then, and seems now perhaps, like a lateral move whose motives even 25 years on remain somewhat unclear.

Well, the differences between “Hellbilly Deluxe,” and say, the hearty crust punk of “La Sexorcisto” are apparent, but much less evident to the undiscerning music fan would be the subtle variances between “Hellbilly Deluxe” and “Astrocreep 2000.” It’s entirely possible that there is little to no difference between those latter two albums, excepting the fact that there’s a different name on the cover, and that Zombie’s solo effort certainly stays more true to a single theme

Nevertheless, the fact remains that when one thinks of Rob Zombie, with the exception of the superlative single “More Human Than Human” and maybe, maybe for learned fans “Thunderkiss 65,” all of Rob Zombie‘s most memorable moments come from “Hellbilly Deluxe.“

Fine, I will allow that there is a case that “Feel So Numb” belongs on the list of Rob‘s most memorable musical moments, but even that fails to gain the popularity of even White Zombie’s pinnacle hits.  (And boy, “Feel So Numb” has a great video, but man, it is a product of the precise moment when it made.)

With that said, then, what is it about hillbilly deluxe that makes us remember it as a separate paragon of the Zombie catalog?  What establishes it as being just as vital and unique as it was then?  Contemporaries that we’ve already mentioned notwithstanding, no one had ever really heard an album like this in 1998 and yet it seems to be the apex of what it was that Rob was building from his early days slugging it out in dirty punk clubs in New York City.   Even with that, so much of the metal from the late ‘90s hasn’t aged particularly well (looking at you, Fred Durst,) and has to some degree become the subject of satire, while “Hellbilly Deluxe” sounds just as nouveau now, and remains in a class entirely unto itself.

One of the things that Rob Zombie has always been so adroit at is the ability to make his music discernible by more than its riff.  “More Human Than Human” is the classic example of this, a radio-ready metal banger known for its beat, but that momentum carries forward into all of the greatest moments of the album we’re talking about.  And with the exception of “Superbeast,” known so well for the screaming held notes that fly over the top of the proceedings from jump, that really remains the case for all of Rob‘s first solo effort especially when you get into the lesser known tracks like “Demonoid Phenomenon” or “Meet the Creeper.” Yes, it’s true, the riffs are part and parcel to the beat in many ways,  but it’s not the rift that creates the idiomatic chug, the rift merely emboldens it.

And there were, as we mentioned, plenty of artists who were experimenting with the same basic principle at the same time, and this was even before djent became a popular and much debated topic. But what makes “Hellbilly Deluxe” stand out from all those albums around it, and I think what makes it withstand the test of time is not just the majesty of unusual sampling and indecipherably absurd lyrics about demons and wizards and possession, is that there’s a sense of joy here.  Whether or not you agree that this is Rob Zombie‘s best musical album (even I personally don’t believe it. I prefer “Astrocreep 2000” as a top to bottom effort,) it’s undeniable that what we see showcased here is Rob Zombie exhibiting alpha Rob Zombie.  That’s really how we got here, if we’re being honest.  Rob’s spirit lends the album a character that none of those contemporary albums had, and that even Rob Zombie would never be able to replicate fully.  Nothing else from that time has that same sense of pure bliss coming from the mind of the creator.

And it seems insane to suggest that it could be something as indefinable as that which gilds this album around its edges, and prevents it from rusting, rotting, or decaying with the passage of a quarter century.  Yet I can find no other tangible explanation for why “Hellbilly Deluxe” should feel this way. 

With all that said, perhaps I’ve taken all of this time and valuable column space to say nothing.  Reading this back, it feels like there’s not really a central theme to my argument other than I enjoy this album, and a lot of other people do as well, and maybe that’s the purpose of this essay if I dare call it one.  “Hellbilly Deluxe,” with whatever formaldehyde seems to pump through its veins preventing its dissipation into the background void of music from days gone by, is simply a fun album that has few if any peers and is the pristine example of a sound that many others try to imitate, but nobody ever really found.  Certainly it makes one pine, however cynically, for the days when Rob’s music career was at the forefront of his mind. In the meantime, if you haven’t listened to “Hellbilly Deluxe” recently, go back and listen to it again you’ll be surprised how good it still sounds.

Album Review: Rob Zombie - The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy

Any attempt to decipher the motivations of twenty-first century Rob Zombie may well be a fool’s errand.  Admitting this is hardly revolutionary; this has largely been the case since ever since his film career, once burgeoning with great promise, intersected and subsequently became inextricably tied to his music career, circa 2003.  It is difficult to see what inspires him more as an artist, and above that, more difficult to ascertain what he’s trying to prove.

The unfortunate upshot of all these branches growing increasingly tangled is the distinct reality that Zombie has become a jack of all trades and a master of none.  He has yet to produce an album that speaks to the legacy-defining accomplishment of either “Hellbilly Deluxe” or its follow up “The Sinister Urge.”  However, there seems to be some belief in camp Zombie that the more verbose and nonsensical an album’s title is, the greater the chance it will rekindle past glory.  Thus, “The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy.”

The album departs with great promise.  After the customary scene-setting open, the first jet out of the hanger is “The Triumph of King Freak (A Crypt of Preservation and Superstition.)”  This track romps and rattles with the throaty rumble that so capably identified all the greatest moments of Zombie’s musical history, be they White or Rob.  This kind of thundering, chaotic distortion fest that abandons craft in favor of impact is the hallmark of Zombie that was often duplicated but never replicated.

And then….nothing.

The album first of all, is too long.  It is bloated with throwaway narrative tracks – six of them to be precise.  This adds roughly five minutes to the total proceedings, which isn’t much in the grand scheme, but obliterates any sense of flow or pacing.  Far too often, the listener is asked to stop their immersion to take in some ambient Pro Tools track or piece of esoteric dialogue. 

In keeping with strange trends that don’t matter singularly but point to a perturbing trend overall, Zombie again chooses to write a song that does not feature common English language words in prominent sections of the chorus.  His most famous of these was the single “Ging Gang Gong De Do Gong De Laga Raga,” and now he occupies the same space with “The Ballad of Sleazy Rider,” which showcases an even more nonsensical chorus than the title would suggest.  At best Zombie is, for some inexplicable reason, trying to inject scat singing into metal, and at worst has become too complacent in his writing to bother putting together compositions with actual verbiage.

For all that, the worst sin, and perhaps the most damning thing that’s ever been said about a Rob Zombie project of any kind, is that it’s boring.  There is no urgency, no hunger to the proceedings of “The Lunar Injection.”  It seems sacrilege to even suggest, but this sounds for all the world like the album of an artist who is comfortable sitting on his laurels.  The prominent single “Crow Killer Blues,” meanders without real direction or purpose.  Even the irrepressible talent of guitarist John 5 seems throttled back – there is some evidence of his versatility in spots, but it is worth nothing that unlike Zombie’s previous album, John does not seem to merit a writing credit this time. 

Zombie is, as far as his musical career is concerned, a prisoner of success.  White Zombie changed the way we think about the presentation of popular metal, and theorized, whether through intention or accident, that metal could be beat-based rather than guitar-based.  Rob Zombie, as a solo artist, forever raised the bar for the presentation of the music, both in the production and in the live setting.  It’s been a long time since either permutation of Zombie has produced an album that resonates with any frequency remotely close to those hallmarks.  Looping back to the top, the question is being begged – why is Rob persisting, and what is the intent?  Only he knows the answer.