All My CDs, pt 72: Hybrid Theory

Hybrid Theory – Linkin Park

A few years after I got Meteora, I got into my head that I should own more albums by some of the artists in my collection, to deepen rather than broaden my collection (I continue to have weird ideas about how my musical experience can be improved, this review project being the latest). Linkin Park was on the list of artists I only had one album by, so I found another and bought it.

I can’t say this one stands out much. In a lot of ways it seems like more of the same, although I must recognize that Hybrid Theory came out first, so it really was Meteora that was more of the same. But after a while the angry lyrics just start to sound whiney, and there is only so much that the synthesized rhythms can dress up an overused theme. It’s not Hybrid Theory’s fault; there are many things I like about it.

Some songs explore the theme of emotional abuse and its aftereffects in ways that Meteora may have neglected. Papercut focuses on the insecurity and lack of self-confidence that may result from constant undue criticism:
Like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face that watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall

With You shows the inescapability of such a relationship:
It’s true the way I feel
was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
even if you’re not with me
I’m with you

A Place for My Head finally describes the need to escape, somehow:
You try to take the best of me
Go away
I want to be in another place
I hate when you say you don't understand
I want to be in the energy, not with the enemy
A place for my head

That particular song also led me to an interesting revelation: there are music fans who enjoy having a singer scream “Go away!” repeatedly into their ears as part of a song. And apparently, I am a part of that group.

Crawling is possibly the catchiest and most beautiful song on the album, and one I remembered hearing on the radio throughout my adolescence. To this day I might describe it as the quintessential Linkin Park song. All the elements of their music that I enjoy most are present there: the memorable synthesizer riff that starts it off. Vocals that waver with emotion without ever plunging fully out of control. Lyrics full of compelling metaphors linking mental anguish to physical sensations (Crawling in my skin / these wounds, they will not heal).

In this case, it’s not a very big deal that this album isn’t especially distinguishable from Meteora. Both albums are so short that they both fit on an 80-minute CD, and both can be listened to one after another without a great investment of time. So I can, if necessary, just treat them as a single album.

Next: Christmas Disk