Review: Linkin Park – From Zero
Even beyond the various controversies orbiting From Zero, Linkin Park‘s new era unfortunately doesn’t add up to much.
Post-reunion, Linkin Park is a band with heavy baggage. Reforming after the tragic passing of lead singer and nu-metal powerhouse Chester Bennington was never going to go over well with a large segment of the fanbase, as, in many ways, Chester Bennington was Linkin Park. This isn’t meant to take away from the talents of the rest of the group, who were responsible for the instrumental ingenuity of classics like Hybrid Theory and Meteora. Still, we are lying to ourselves if we don’t acknowledge how much Bennington’s vocals came to represent the band in the collective cultural mind. Even then, the band’s replacement for him, Emily Armstrong of the alt-rock act Dead Sara, proved to be more controversial than anyone could’ve expected.
Armstrong’s family is historically active in the Church of Scientology (specifically her mother, who was accused of being a part of the secretive inner circle of the “religion”). Emily herself had supported and potentially been friends with now noted sex criminal and fellow Scientologist Danny Masterson (which she has since then apologized for, stating that “Unimaginable details emerged…” – take this how you may). As for whether or not Armstrong is still a part of the church is anybody’s guess, but it’s important to keep in mind that Scientology is an infamously controlling and manipulative cult—Emily publicly speaking out on her time in the “church” could serve to potentially put herself in danger. Seeing as she was born and raised in the cult, it’s hard to judge how these details reflect on her as a person.
Regardless of one’s perspective on this contentious situation, replacing Bennington with someone with a history like this would always loom heavily over the rollout of a new record. Beyond the band’s new singer, long-time drummer Rob Bourdon’s place in the band is now filled by Colin Brittain, whose credited history includes production/session-work with 5 Seconds of Summer, Mothica, and Andy Grammer (not exactly the most encouraging back-catalog). Replacing one, let alone two, of the band’s essential members with (this is going to sound a lot meaner than I intend) nobodies is not usually a great sign for a band. Just look to Extreme frontman Gary Cherone’s ill-fated time in Van Halen or the various hired guns that Queen has wrangled up in the wake of Freddie Mercury. All this to say, From Zero was set to be a divisive release before anyone even heard it.
Despite claims of a “new era” for the group, the 11 tracks that make up From Zero strike me as a band stuck in stasis. These new songs largely consist of painfully obvious retreads from their own back catalog. Singles like “The Emptiness Machine” and “Over Each Other” feel like Linkin Park crafted via synthesis, complete with forgettable hooks and a bland instrumental palette. Other moments, namely ones like “Heavy Is the Crown” and “Two Faced,” strike me as more specific derivatives (the former being a weak take on a Meteora track like “Faint,” the latter sounding like a substandard Hybrid Theory cut with a blown-out breakdown aping “A Place For My Head”). This level of self-cannibalization indicates major writing issues, much like the multitude of aging acts losing their touch before them.
As for what is new to this record, it doesn’t fare much better. Far too many songs (“Overflow,” “Stained,” “Cut the Bridge,” etc.) sound like filler made specifically for some loud rock Sirius XM station. These songs still have remnants of what defined the classic output, but mostly it’s the infectious rot of modern alt-pop-indie-rock-muzak that haunts the remnants of America’s FM stations, hollowed out by the scourge of IHeartRadio. So much of the short run time of From Zero resembles a bland mush, lacking much of the heart, muscle, catchiness, and power that a record like Hybrid Theory or even Living Things had in spades. The heavier moments feel forced and contrived, while the poppier cuts have me missing the oft-maligned songs from One More Light (at least that album had Pusha T on it).
It’s pretty disappointing to see the sum of these parts, as it’s not like the members of Linkin Park have fallen into the the depths of ineptitude. The technical proficiency of Shinoda, Delson, Farrell, and Mr. Hahn are still there (I’d argue Hahn’s DJing is probably the best part of this record). Likewise, despite everything said prior, Emily Armstrong has a strong, versatile voice that allows for some decent growls and soaring vocal hooks—she specifically sounds great in the last third of the closer, “Good Things Go.” Regardless, her talents are being held back by the pseudo-Chester-impression that she spends the bulk of the record in.
But even if it’s clear that Linkin Park can still put an album togethe, the end result fails to accomplish half as much as any of their best records. It’s not as powerfully cathartic as Hybrid Theory and Meteora, it’s not ambitiously conceptual and innovative like A Thousand Suns, it’s not fist-poundingly anthemic like Minutes to Midnight and Living Things; it’s just kind of there, treading ground already covered time and time again. A few songs (“Two Faced,” “Good Things Go”) have their moments where they resonate, but even those songs fail to come together into anything stronger than a fine song with a cool moment or two.
Writing this review has honestly been painful. I’ve spent 2024 falling back in love with the Linkin Park discography; revisiting the first band I ever loved and remembering the memories associated with them (good and bad). No matter how corny it may sound, songs like “Somewhere I Belong,” “Papercut,” “Given Up,” and “The Catalyst” still move me due to that personal history (they’re also just great fucking songs). Even after growing apart from their music and replacing it with brutal death metal and girly-pop, Linkin Park was always a part of my musical DNA—whether I knew it or not. That same emotional power doesn’t feel like it’s there for this new band incarnation. The 31-minute run time flashes by without leaving much of an impression, resulting in an empty-feeling full-length. From Zero feels like a band reunion on auto-pilot, plain and simple.
I hope I’m wrong, though. There will always be troubled kids who need this kind of music. Hopefully, they’ll find more to like here than I did.
2/5 Flaming Toilets ov Hell
From Zero is out now through Warner Records.
