Blue Öyster Cult returns "The Symbol Remains" is a Dystopian Labyrinth of Old Curses & Modern Chaos

 

One day not long ago, someone sitting in some room somewhere must have asked, “what artist would consider writing an album for the end of days; a tome of music to describe the insidiousness of our current culture, our pronouncement as failures to be the caretakers of the world and our imminent demise? Anyone?” Meanwhile, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, the waters began to boil and foam with an electric indigo squid-ink black light glow. The waters rose as if being pulled by a dark and powerful force below.  The waves began reaching such heights that it’s tsunamis fled from it in terror. With a purposeful grimace and a terrible sound, a long absent creature; a force of nature, a rock and roll behemoth stood in the torrid waters, bearing the symbol of the long-forgotten gods of 70’s hard rock, fantasy and science fiction reality. The figure breathed smoke, dripping with electric blue slime as it shot lasers from its eyes. Helpless people in nearby capsized fishing boats screamed bug-eyed as the creature glared at them. It roared in thunderous pain and said in a great voice with much reverb; “We got that covered.“

 

On October 9^th, the tsunami hit the world shores and “The Symbol Remains” was unleashed onto the population of earth. Blue Oyster Cult has been writing music, recording and touring nearly as long as this 54 y/o Brooklynite has been alive. “The Symbol Remains” serves as their first release in nearly two decades and its opener, That Was Me, wastes no time reminding us that this badass band knows what they’re doing. With bullet holes, broken bottles and fires blazing, this Eric Bloom opus (the first of many on this album) is as perfect a Machiavellian opener to a hard rock album or a Scorsese film as one could ask for. Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser’s bouncy and infectious Box in my Head, follows up, firing on all 80’s prog-rock cylinders. Written as homage to the complexities of the human mind, it made this listener wonder whom Roeser had been reading before writing this flirty little toe-tapper. Alan Watts, “The Chinese Box” from his book “Beyond Theology” quickly snaps to mind, but after reading the liner notes, turns out that the song was co-written by science fiction author and long-time collaborator, John Shirley (the first of many on this album). Word of warning:  don’t listen to this song before bedtime; you’ll never get the hook out of your head.

 

These first two songs remind us that Blue Oyster Cult has a unique sound all their own. Like an artist painting his or her own indelible stamp onto the canvas, to the observer or listener, Blue Oyster Cult’s sound is often instantly recognizable. Just ask anyone who’s heard Ghost’s Ritual lately and they will tell you. You will find louder bands, faster bands, angrier bands and craftier bands but what Blue Oyster Cult has consistently brought to the table, besides all of the creature-feature gore, is intelligence and musical sophistication, which may or may not be on everyone’s rock/metal scratch list. This listener appreciates that Blue Oyster Cult do not dumb-down their material and they never apologize. They have always entertained through their music, erring on the side of the mysterious; using grotesque and complex themes, plucked straight from the darkest corner of the very back of your closet. “The Symbol Remains” is no exception. With haunting dystopian finesse, the album literally takes us “down the rabbit hole” of both the known and unknown, then plunks us down in the nightmare pool of today’s world of fake news, cell phone and opioid addiction, while taking aim at the meme, “Florida Man.” This haunting song of the same title, starts with a Seminole curse of the Conquistador but quickly moves to the more universal and modern strip malls and sad dusty tales and ruins of drug addiction. Even while luring you in with a pop twang, BOC never lets you forget their dark interior. “The Symbol Remains” has an equal array of the more familiar themes of alien invasions, sorcery, black magic and tainted vampire romance.

 

Speaking of vampires, Richie Castellano soars on this album and quite literally; he can bite my neck any day of the week. Tainted Blood, which was co-written by Bloom, jumps off of the vinyl in a crimson velvet/blood-splattered love ballad that’s infectious, sexy and makes me want to drop a Flashdance bucket of blood on myself. Just kidding. Or am I? Castellano’s presence on this album, along with bassist Danny Miranda and drummer Jules Radino complete the apocalyptic air of “The Symbol Remains.” The band flies high on rock riffs and catchy vocals with the very “Cagey” The Return of St. Cecelia, which has found me, hair brush in hand, singing along with the back-up vocals (the first of many on this album). Also catchy AF is The Machine, the disturbingly accurate reminder that you are indeed addicted to your cell phone whether or not you want to admit it. Castellano’s songwriting and vocals prove an equal match for his powerful guitar playing on this album. Being a huge Priest and Maiden fan, it was glorious to hear the guitar duos with Buck Dharma on songs like The Alchemist, which also serves as a spotlight for the all-illuminating Bloom in his finest element. Growling out vocal riffs reminiscent of BOC classics such as Heavy Metal (Black & Silver), Dominance and Submission and Veteran of the Psychic Wars, Eric Bloom has never sounded better. I look forward to also hearing the very Metallica-Cooper-like Stand And Fight live and in all of it’s metal anthem glory but it’s Castellano’s Edge of the World, with Bloom on vocals, with it’s sad, honest farewell to humanity, that pulled me in and got me coming back to “The Symbol Remains.” With its lyrics overflowing with alien abduction imagery, Edge of the World is pure science fiction porn, complete with a hook not unlike the ominous Don’t Turn Your Back from their 1981 release, “Fire of Unknown Origin.”

 

By now, “The Symbol Remains” should be creeping into your brain for a long, dark winters nap, due in large to the archangel of this Long Island outfit, Donald “Buck Dharma” Roeser, who never seems satisfied with keeping inside that musical box in his head. Be it the infectious Train True (Lennie’s Song), a countrified triptych through glorious New Jersey or the hauntingly timely and aforementioned Florida Song, or the Footloose-meets-Thin Lizzyesque Nightmare Epiphany, it’s Buck Dharma’s masterful guitar and phrasing that make the Americana in these story songs come to life. Each song seems carefully woven with his guitar and trademark background vocal tracks throughout “The Symbol Remains,” almost as if it’s there as an exercise in trust. I will listen and it will comfort me. Seriously, since the basic message of Secret Road is that we’re all basically screwed, then I prefer to hear it straight from Buck Dharma. Secret Road looks you in eye and sings it to you; complete with the Blue Oyster Cult trademark “haunting slow-groove harmony vocal track,” running steadily behind and it comforts and you just trust it.

 

So cheers everyone, we live in a horrible world. I’m just grateful that Blue Oyster Cult and “The Symbol Remains” are a product of that world too. As we all move forward into the darkness of the unknown, this music fan will step to the edge of the world to watch it all burn with “The Symbol Remains” in my headset because I want a Buck Dharma haunting slow-groove harmony vocal track comforting me as I move forward in the dark. I trust it.