Simulation Theory

If a Muse album isn’t meant to make you laugh, gasp and double-take in its ridiculousness, then we don’t wanna hear it.

Muse’s most approachable and most ruthlessly broad record yet, it is an attempt to replicate Scorpion’s Spotify omnipresence, so on the nose the first track is called “Algorithm.” Even singer Matt Bellamy has taken off the shutter shades to take a good look in the mirror and admit that, despite Muse’s operatic ambitions, they have always been a pop band.

Muse's foray into '80s retro-futurism, while at times uninspired and gaudy even by the band's standards, has resulted in their most palatable album this decade.

Muse’s eighth studio album, Simulation Theory, is certainly not their best—but it still serves the same Cinnabon-esque function as every Muse album, which is tickling your brainstem with sensory pleasure until you’ve got to stop, disgusted by your own indulgence.

Simulation Theory is the most honest album that Muse has created in quite some time. It’s clearly leagues below what they’re capable of, but they’re at least moving forward with the styles of music that they want to create, uninhibited by expectations rooted in the past. This is essentially a synth-pop album, one that is at times exciting and unconventional and at other times tasteless and rudimentary.

Whereas certain songs allow the bevy of nuance that Simulation Theory presents to achieve a natural state of cohabitation, others bombard the ear with excess — forcing the musical duality with a heavy hand rather than letting it naturally manifest. It is clear from Muse’s past work that they are indeed capable of really delivering, but this time, they just didn’t do so as strongly.

Simulation Theory seems to fall into two territories – songs are either half-hearted nods to the best of their heavier rock-opera back catalogue, or futuristic, electronic pop-heavy tracks that borrow from bands more adept at that particular sound, and the vast majority of which are burdened with Bellamy’s political paranoia. For a new listener, it’s baffling. For a former, diehard fan, it’s disappointing.

Muse are a platinum rock band working their way through a trend about seven years too late.

Muse prove, once and for all, that they are so much better than Radiohead on the future-shock, instant classic, Simulation Theory.

There’s obviously still an audience for Muse, given by the size of the venues they still sell out, and this will definitely please the die-hards, but most of Simulation Theory simply fizzles out without leaving much of an impression.

As art, it is immature and vacant. As fun, it barely registers. It's less of a step-up from Drones than a step sideways, if only because the self-parody here feels deliberate.

Let’s face it, Muse are never going to grow up and face the real world, which happens to be so rich with people and forces to fight against at this moment. And it seems increasingly unlikely that they’ll be able to regain their goofy sense of fun, either.

Simulation Theory is all smoke and mirrors and arrives completely without substance, while a real ‘80s synth-driven LP would go beyond simply compiling a series of pitched noises that achieve little more than serving as an effective cure for insomnia.