Metal Blade Records - 2003
9.5/10
Following the complete snoozefest that was a sequel to Abigail, one might assume that King Diamond's time to shine has come to an abrupt end. Thankfully, the 21st Century run of albums seems to have several paths in how it wants to recapture the glory days, and it turned out the aging front man had not only a refreshing outlet prepared in terms of actual music, but in unique identity too. The Puppet Master is sometimes considered a throwback, but I don't think the band has made a single record like it. Not only has the music never felt this operatic and all over the place before, but it's also never felt this horrifying.
Let's discuss that for a minute. King Diamond has long dealt in ghosts, hauntings, and possessions, with mild deviations from this in the likes of The Spiders Lullaby to questionable success and House Of God to great success. This time, a different idea is fleshed out entirely in a witchcraft-meets-body horror sense that's not only terrifying in concept, but delivered in a way that captures all of that fear as if you're watching a movie. A story around gutting out humans, holding their shells of a body for marionette-type props, and preserving their consciousness for the profit of some grotesque antagonists is in line with some of the worst nightmares I've ever had. Ha, maybe there's also a discussion around metaphors for robbing workers of their humanity and leaving them a vehicle for someone else to exploit for personal gain, but I'll save that for another time.
All of this means nothing if the music itself can't convey it properly, but holy fuck, I don't think any other approach beyond the fierce riffwork meeting operatic vocal passages aided by Livia Zita would have been appropriate. Though King utilizes his deeper snarl more than normal here, it trades haunting emotion for grizzly terror, with falsettos being more of a topping to work aside Zita's paralyzing voice than a main driver for melody. Moreover, while the band often used synthesizers for effect more than anything, this time they carry a lot of rhythm and melody beside the riffs, adding even more depth to the proverbial stage presence. "Magic" absolutely nails this to a tee early on, driving crushing chops that collapse into the following "Emerencia," one built on steadier flow but arguably scarier delivery with its unnerving minor tones and chilling operatic layers.
"Emerencia" might also introduce another factor that truly sells this; the usage of typically comforting tricks put into a context that instead makes them feel even more grotesque than something openly demonic or ghostly. Soft, clean, and melodic vocals emulate an unclean feeling that I've not seen done this well since Alice Cooper's Welcome To My Nightmare. "Christmas" may have single-handedly ruined "Little Drummer Boy" for me, as I can no longer hear that song without picturing a carved up human-doll containing a conscious soul forced against its will to sing it for eternity (Sorry, Bowie and Crosby). "Blue Eyes" lays down the theatrics in a way I think even the best King Diamond records of early days couldn't quite achieve to the same effect; this isn't to say the classic albums aren't great (or even better), but I still can't take them seriously the way I do this one. Closer "Living Dead" may be another ode to that, however this works as more of a conclusive paraphrase of the horror we just experienced than anything else.
And perhaps that's the final point, how genuine everything in The Puppet Master feels. As immaculate as Abigail and Conspiracy are, most self-aware fans know there's still a tongue-in-cheek aspect to those that I just don't get with this record. "No More Me" details the body horror a la Alice Cooper without dropping a single hint of uncertainty nor awkwardness; its slow descent into a melody falling apart paints the gory mutilation into my mind like a brush and canvas. "The Ritual" and "Blood To Walk" bake in full-on thrash riffs that melt into the general vibe of this record without feeling out of place at all, once again being enhanced by the deeper snarl. "So Sad" works in emotional heart-tugs in the form of a funeral-like ballad that sneaks sorrow into what's otherwise terrifying, following the classic stomp-meets-epic footing on "Darkness." The pummeling drums in the latter somehow feel even more compelling than they do in the thrashier numbers, which was truly a one in a million shot of working with Zita's vocals so wonderfully. God, even the title track paired with the "Midnight" intro oozes terror in projecting that sinking gut ache of an otherwise harmless puppet show just feeling "a little off."
I don't know where this came from. In one sense, I think The Puppet Master is a complete realization of everything tried throughout the entire era without an era. The overly tacky tricks that didn't land at all on The Graveyard; the obvious attempt at recapturing old feelings that didn't land on Abigail II: The Revenge; the thrashy drive that wasn't quite there but was clearly thought of in Voodoo; the unique angle that miraculously worked wonderfully (possibly by accident) on House Of God, etc. They all meet, shake hands, and give their all to bring out something that's been in the works for over a decade, and fucking smokes everything in its path. In another sense, maybe King and co. just truly shackled down, were struck with inspiration, and ran far with it; you be the judge.
All I know is that this many cannons firing in so many different directions probably wouldn't have worked so well without the operatic overcast, the unique story, the different (but consistent) vocal work, and the bending of something innocent like a Christmas play into a grim and cursed disfigurement that feels like Sid's bedroom in Toy Story for adults. Alice Cooper already did that well enough several decades prior, but it was easy to dismiss that as spooky fun. King Diamond took it and decided to write an actual horror movie built on gore, psychological terror, and grotesque disfigurement. Well fucking done, man. Well done!
No comments:
Post a Comment