New Garbage album lacks gothic sound
By Ethan Dougherty
Old Gold and Black Reviewer

Garbage burst onto the national music scene in 1995, driven by the sexy hum of Scottish singer Shirley Manson’s unique voice and the drumming of lauded producer Butch Vig (the Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana), and became an almost-instant hit with their surreal single “Stupid Girl.” The band’s sophomore effort, 1998’s Version 2.0, combined Manson’s furious singing with referential lyrics and sprawling synthetic sounds to make a brilliant, if not groundbreaking, piece of madness. All signs were in favor of their third release, beautifulgarbage (Interscope, 2001), being an even edgier and louder follow-up. Unfortunately, these signs were a bit premature.

The album spans 13 tracks and almost as many styles. The gothic synth-rock that Garbage made its trademark has been pushed aside in favor of an odd mix of pop ballads, trite love jaunts, inspirational anthems and downright annoying electronica. The opener, “Shut Your Mouth,” has the sound expected of Garbage, but Manson croons about how rough it is to be a rock star and her dream of having a family. The follow-up track, “Androgyny,” is an over-produced indictment of social sexual norms, a topic Manson has breached extensively in the past. However, where she once would have angrily told the male world to go to hell and ogle her on the way, the song pushes for the sexes to get along. Other notable tracks include “Cup of Coffee,” a ballad of heartbreak with absolutely no edge; Manson is again the depressed woman desperate for love and affection.

As painful as parts of the disc are, beautifulgarbage has a few bright spots. “Shut Your Mouth” whets the appetite for the hard-rocking Garbage of old, and “Silence is Golden,” a powerful bit of craziness, is a stunning and ambitious tale of sexual assault. It offers a brief glimpse of Manson’s maturity as a songwriter, with lyrics like, “My body is a temple/something was stolen/I have been broken.” The vocals and instrumentation are both first-rate. “Cherry Lips,” probably the only pop song the band has ever recorded, is a one-dimensional tribute to a beautiful woman, but there’s something fun and almost addictive about it. Manson develops a new affinity for melody, and there is definite use of a tambourine, an idea which would have once sounded as ridiculous as an a capella rendition of your favorite Judas Priest song. “Nobody Loves You” has the sound of the old Garbage, complete with brooding lyrics, Manson’s signature snarl, and loud guitars layered over seamless production. Sadly, one great track and three somewhat mediocre tracks don’t make a great album.

As a whole, there’s just something that doesn’t work about this album. It is admirable that the band tried to lend their unique sound to different styles, but Garbage filled a niche as a well-produced fusion of electronic beats and rock power with sultry vocals very well. Manson’s shedding of her supervixen persona leads to lyrics that aren’t very compelling or interesting, and the synthesized sounds are more obtrusive than innovative. The old adage “stick with what works” was obviously ignored by the band as they entered the studio, and everything that made them the perfect band to listen to on an angry midnight drive is gone. The album itself is good, but it’s just missing something. If you’ve always thought Garbage was a little too depressing and loud, then you’ll probably fall in love with this album, but if you loved Version 2.0 , you’ll find yourself asking, “What happened to all of that deliciously attractive rage?”