“Fuck the world/Fuck it all/This is what you’re waiting for?/This is 1984.” So go the lyrics to “F.T.W. 84,” the opening track on Rob Zombie’s eighth solo album. The artist formerly known as Rob Cummings typically refrains from political commentary, but such are the times we live in. Still, The Great Satan is festooned with all the staccato metal riffs, electronically enhanced power grooves, and exploitation/horror samples Zombie is known for. On “(I’m a) Rock ’n’ Roller” and “Punks and Demons,” Zombie reaffirms the musical roots beneath his second career as a successful horror-movie director. “Tarantula” and “Heathen Days” rumble and roll like White Zombie tunes of old, complete with Little Richard-isms on the former and industrial guitars on the latter.
With bassist Rob “Blasko” Nicholson and guitarist Mike Riggs back in Zombie’s lineup after nearly 20 years, it’s tempting to view The Great Satan as a throwback to his 1998 solo debut, Hellbilly Deluxe: 13 Tales of Cadaverous Cavorting Inside the Spookshow International, but that’s also how his label is pitching it. And it’s not a hard sell: The Great Satan feels like a return to that bygone era before he teamed up with well-traveled guitarist and fellow Kiss superfan John 5 and pivoted into slightly less direct songwriting.
“Sir Lord Acid Wolfman” combines three of Zombie’s obsessions—’70s hard rock (see Sir Lord Baltimore), drug references (even though he personally abstains), and horror films—into a lurching paean to a B-movie villain of his own creation. Back in semi-political mode, “Revolution Motherfuckers” seems to make fun of would-be protestors with a chorus that goes, “We do what we want, and we wanna get wasted!” What are they protesting? Nobody knows.
“The Black Scorpion” is a short, sharp proto-thrash tune that counterbalances “Unclean Animals,” a churning psychedelic dirge that rolls to conclusion with synth strings programmed in the style of Led Zeppelin. Anchored by obscure dialogue samples, interludes “Who Am I,” “Welcome to the Electric Age,” and closer “Grave Discontent” help tie the retro room together. And Satan, laughing, spreads his wings.
