Given that every live show is basically a gargantuan, horror-themed party, it’s somewhat surprising to note that Rob Zombie remains largely unique. A thrilling blend of industrial stomp, New York grime, Kiss-meets-Alice-Cooper showmanship and occasional bouts of musical what-the-fuckery, he remains very much his own entity with few, if any, direct competitors. This could perhaps explain why, despite a flawless debut (Hellbilly Deluxe) and a nearly-as-good follow-up (The Sinister Urge), Rob Zombie’s subsequent albums have rarely seemed essential, often treading water and lacking the almighty hooks that pushed the likes of Dragula, Living Dead Girl and Feel So Numb into rock clubs the world over. As such, it comes as something of a surprise that The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy is a damn good album and, whilst it might not scale the heights of Hellbilly Deluxe, it nevertheless has a number of surprises up its grimy sleeve.
We start in familiar territory, a short scene-setting opening track pairing twisted samples and arena-sized percussion as we hurtle towards The Triumph Of King Freak. A genuine belter, The Triumph Of King Freak harks back to the days of White Zombie with its Eastern-tinged production and crushing riffs. It certainly makes you sit up and take notice, and The Ballad Of Sleazy Rider (which sounds like Rob spent time jamming on Load-era Metallica and Ministry simultaneously) maintains the pace. So far, so Zombie, you might say and, as another short interlude whizzes us into the disco-in-hell stomp of Shadow Of The Cemetery Man, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the album will remain in cheerily predictable territory for the duration.
Zombie, it seems, has other plans. The creepy industrial atmospheres of A Brief Static Hum And Then The Radio Blared paves the way for the wholly unexpected Ghost Train, a track that sounds like a Butthole Surfers’ offcut, complete with chicken-pickin’ riff and red-neck narration. It’s pretty much the last thing you’d expect on a Zombie album and yet, with its savagely distorted chorus and schizophrenic switches it’s a hell of a lot of fun and a track I’d like to see played live, if only to witness the utter bafflement of the audience. A nod to Return Of The Phantom Stranger is to be found in the mad organ-mutilation introduction to Eternal Struggle Of The Howling Man, only for the track itself to cleave closer to Superbeast with its hyper-speed riffing and foundation-wrecking production. Of course, just to keep you on your toes, Zombie and co. throw in a random porno-funk interlude because, you know, why not? And, in truth, it’s these little digressions that mark this album out as one of the better entries in Zombie’s storied canon.
Continuing in his mission to confuse the bejesus out of the audience, Zombie and his compatriots offer up a briefly beautiful piece of music that is more Morricone than Manson, although it’s essentially a lengthy wrong-foot designed to emphasise the power of garage-rocker The Satanic Rites Of Blacula, which recalls the long lost early days of White Zombie. The queasy noises found on Shower Of Stones sound like the soundtrack to a sci-fi c-movie, but the track soon gives way to the sleazy Shake Your Ass Smoke Your Grass, a track custom built for the dingier strip clubs. The countrified Boom-Boom-Boom does creepy as only Zombie can, his low-pitched rasp equal parts mirth and menace, making for an album highlight that conjures images of House Of A Thousand Corpses. With the album hurtling past, another interlude distracts us briefly, but Get Loose is classic Zombie just waiting to be discovered, while the album ends with the twin highlights of The Serenity Of Witches – a surprisingly chilled instrumental – and Crow Killer Blues, a psychedelic monster-piece that brings the album to a tumultuous conclusion.
Honestly, The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy is a whole heap of fun. With a number of legitimate crackers on the track-listing, some sweet artwork harking back to the hallowed days of White Zombie, and a series of bizarre interludes giving the whole thing a creepy soundtrack feel, it’s arguably Zombie’s most successful album since The Sinister Urge. With some fun digressions on hand (for my money, it’s the Butthole-Surfers-esque madness of Ghost Train that wins big here) and typically foundation-threatening production, The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy comes highly recommended. 8.5/10
