Linkin Park: A Thousand Suns

It was the first Christmas of the new millennium when I found Hybrid Theory in my stocking. I was a mere 10 years old. In my case, Linkin Park’s debut graced a distinctly impressionable boy’s portable tape player before Sum 41’s ‘All Killer...’ and before I’d heard of Blink 182. It even proceeded my ‘Now That’s What I Call Music’ phase when I realised Sisqo’s thong-inspired raps really didn’t do it for me after all. Having been part of the generation who witnessed ‘Papercut’ on what must have been Top of the Pops – the third single from an album which is now the 26^th biggest selling album of all time – I was lucky enough to see the birth of one of the world’s most exciting bands.

Minutes to Midnight, for me, was utterly rubbish. After enduring four years of two albums worth of material, this was their 2007 comeback. Gone were the chugging guitars and screams of self loathing, and in their place were half finished power ballads and the odd profanity. It seemed the band who took the world by storm had sold out to Michael Bay. That was three years ago and the Californian sextet have taken another musical direction entirely. And, with a concept based on inhumanity and nuclear warfare, it’s been done to explosive effect.

The album opens slowly with ‘Burning Skies.’ Following an integrated speech from the father of the atomic bomb, it acts as a clear indication of where album number four is heading. Turn up the bass and take it with a pinch of salt and ‘When they come for me’ will sound truly original and be etched into the brain before you know it. ‘Waiting for the End’ has a chorus with a heart-warming reggae feel and the simple but powerfully placed and sparsely used riffs come with a bizarre appreciation. Almost like they were taken for granted for years before. Blackout is still lead by night club-like samples and a simple piano, but Chester’s screams of ‘f**k it are you listening now?’ add another dimension to an already eclectic range of tracks.

‘A Thousand Suns’ is peppered with fillers – pretentious noises and samples that would be the downfall of many other bands. But it flows so well here without a dull moment - a highlight being Wisdom, Justice and Love, which could almost be the final words of Optimus Prime. Lead single ‘The Catalyst’ sounds better on the album than as a stand-alone, as it brings the album to a beautiful close. An acoustic ballad from Chester isn’t something old school fans would ever expect but the front man effortlessly forces everything he has into closing track ‘The Messenger.’ His vocals have never been so crisp and the rock star image he’s gained over recent years seems far more deserved - if still a little unorthodox.

There is a distinct lack of hard guitars throughout, which would seem a futile move for a band once considered the pioneers of Nu-Metal. But Linkin Park have said themselves that they’re striding into the unknown. Their abrupt change in song writing style is a daring move that - in the eyes of an old school fan who has resigned to the fact that we may not hear the likes of Closer to the Edge and Faint again - has paid off with huge reward.

To the world their landmark first albums were brilliantly predictable; to some, Minutes to midnight was predictably awful; but with time ‘A Thousand Suns’ will be seen by many as unpredictably brilliant. Amongst the speech and recordings is a solid album and this time round the six-piece should be really proud of what they’ve created.