Being the creative force behind Ministry for 35 years has taken its toll on Al Jourgensen. He’s cracked. He’s checked out. The mind truly is a terrible thing to taste and this, the first Surgical Meth Machine album, represents the remnants of Jourgensen’s brain broth.
Sit down and relax with this record. Seriously. Make sure you’re on the receiving end of a full body massage when you press the play button or you might have an aneurysm. This is brutish, bloody industrial metal that doesn’t let up until track seven.
The first six cuts are the heaviest pieces of music Jourgensen has written since he picked up a guitar. Everything, from I’m Sensitive to Smash And Grab, batters the listener into submission with endless samples, static-laden screams, jarring to and fro and the catchiest choruses he’s peddled since ‘Rio Grande Blood’.
What Uncle Al created with ‘Psalm 69’ or even the dark, depressing pits of ‘Filth Pig’ and ‘Dark Side of the Spoon’… it’s gone. Done. He’s fucked it. He’s flattened it. This is a man in his late 50s churning out extreme, confrontational noise just because he can.
Comparisons to recent Ministry records are obvious in the later tracks, though. Gates Of Steel and Spudnik roll with a guitar hero, southern rock edge that could easily slot in among the lighter moments of ‘The Last Sucker’. Unlistenable is lyrically ludicrous but succeeds where Ministry’s Side FX Include Mikey’s Middle Finger (TV4) went awry, deploying a cut and paste aural assault that aims to confuse and leaves the jaw grinding dust. It’s nigh on unlistenable and that is, well, kind of the point.
Lard co-conspirator Jello Biafra pops up for a ridiculous vocal on I Don’t Wanna, while Rich People Problems shreds with an almost Lynyrd Skynyrd solo and features lyrics that make Byron look like Suzanne Collins: “He doesn’t seem to remember that I’m allergic to tap water. I only drink the bottled water from France, he knows this.” What were you expecting? It’s called ‘Surgical Meth Machine’.
Just Go Home and Just Keep Going pay homage to proper industrial in the form of latter day Front Line Assembly, leading into I’m Invisible, where spooky keyboards and crooning bring us full circle, referencing the puerile synth pop Jourgensen was doing on Ministry’s ‘Twitch’ 30 years ago. There are countless other projects he’s worked on, but ‘Surgical Meth Machine’ is a tour of Ministry’s career at breakneck speed. No, scrap that. Breakeverything speed.
It’s not for everyone. It’s not a barbed attack on a presidency, nor is it anything particularly new. It’s what you love about Ministry but jacked up on every upper it can get its hands on. It’s insane. If you want chunky riffs, lyrics ranging from Facebook to heroin and melodies that worm their way into the brain holes on first listen and refuse to leave, then ‘Surgical Meth Machine’ is for you. And if you don’t like it, here’s some words from the man himself: “I don’t fucking care.”
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