Otep: Smash the Control Machine
After three albums of pure nu-metal aggression, Smash the Control Machine is Otep’s attempt at a political statement. The idyllic ‘50s suburbanites on the cover are unaware that they are part of such a machine, even though the symbols are ostentatiously arranged on their dining room table: Drugs, money, television, beauty and violence. It’s like we’re all bricks in a wall, where the teachers won’t leave the kids alone. Haven’t we heard this before?
Subtlety is not Otep’s strongpoint. Smash the Control Machine is an album of gloomy guitar riffs punctuated with lead singer Otep Schamaya’s guttural screams. Schamaya has always been Otep’s main selling point, because her screams are freakishly low. She is able to morph her voice at will. One moment she’s singing in a girlish purr, the next she is producing howls from the bottom of her diaphragm. It’s an impressive parlor trick, but she doesn’t know how to use it to her advantage. She switches her range so frequently that the change never means anything. Instead of waiting with baited breath to hear her growl, it becomes gimmicky.
Schamaya’s approach is effective on the opening track, “Rise, Rebel Resist,” which begins with the almost obligatory slow burn. The guitars churn slowly and methodically, with Schamaya’s throaty vocals swirling in and out, before the usual chaotic mix of furious guitars and pounding drums. Schamaya’s vocals are faster, with her voice going into the upper register at the end of every line. This technique is reminiscent of Kittie’s debut a decade ago. It’s not innovative anymore, but it works in small doses.
Since the album is called Smash the Control Machine, you would think that the title track is a rallying cry to rage against said machine. Instead, it’s just a generic radio rock song with a western twang. Schamaya’s voice is the trait that sets Otep apart from a million other bands, and she drains it of all its character. It’s an obvious concession for radio airplay. For a band that wants to smash the control machine, they certainly want to be a part of it.
Ultimately this is what makes Otep so frustrating. Otep Schamaya has an extremely interesting and versatile voice, and covers it up with bargain basement nu-metal riffs. Riffs are the fundamental core of heavy metal, and Smash the Control Machine seems to have come from a metal tab book. The songs follow two basic structures. The first is a slow intro followed by furious riffing (“Oh So Surreal,” “Head,”). The title track and “Run for Cover” follow the second structure, which dives headlong into the riff. In the end, the approaches don’t matter, because it all sounds the same.
The exception is “Ur A WMN Now,” a surprisingly tender ballad. The guitars and drums are pushed aside in favor of piano and strings. Schamaya’s performance is vulnerable and subdued. Her voice is totally stripped of the anger that defines the rest of the album. She sends a positive message to her female fans, letting them know that marrying someone you don’t love isn’t love at all. Marriage is not required to be a woman. Her message comes through quite clearly, and she doesn’t even have to scream.
The prevailing message in Smash the Control Machine is that we Americans are locked in a world of corporations, poor self image and all around depravity. It’s easy to get on board with that message, until you open the disc and are greeted by a slip of paper advertising Otep t-shirts. Irony is delicious, isn’t it?
