#12: Muse - Showbiz (1999)

1. Sunburn
2. Muscle Museum
3. Filip
4. Falling Down
5. Cave
6. Showbiz
7. Unintended
8. Uno
9. Sober
10. Escape
11. Overdue
12. Hate This And I'll Love You

I wasn't even sure what today's review was going to be until about 2am this morning, when this review began to form in my head while I was listening to 'Uno'. I personally find it difficult to tell people where to start with Muse if they haven't been following the band's progression, but as I'll probably end up covering all their albums eventually I may as well start at the beginning - especially as that's where my head's taken me right now.

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When bands graduate to titanic, arena-filling status, it can be easy to forget that there was a time when they were just like every other band - such is the case with Muse. It may seem like an age ago (indeed, it's getting on for a decade now), but in a time before sold-out Wembley Stadium shows, space-prog opuses, and even before 'Plug In Baby' was terrorising radio playlists, there was Showbiz.

And yet, from the haunting opening piano line of 'Sunburn', you can sense the ambition to be something greater than a band who've "played in every toilet" (a reminder that the road to success can be long and hard, even for a band like Muse). Lyrically, it's a clear indicator of the album's overriding themes: "She burns like the sun... and I can't look away!" Matt Bellamy howls as the piano takes a crashing turn. 'Muscle Museum', meanwhile begins with a menacingly brooding bassline, before the chorus sees him "begging for so much more than you could ever give." - it's a good introduction to the band's dark, emotionally-charged rock.

'Falling Down' is a more relaxed moment, although it can't contain itself for too long, with Bellamy's singing "Too late, I already found what I was looking for..." before breaking down into a roar of "you know it wasn't you!" towards the song's climax. Later on in the album, 'Escape' pulls much the same trick, beginning with plaintive sentiment before suddenly switching to weighty guitars. 'Filip' and 'Cave', on the other hand, reverse the format, starting out energetically before breaking down mid song.

'Showbiz' is the perfect centerpiece for the album, building up slowly from an echoy drumbeat before working itself into a frenzy of feedback, distortion, and gutturally howled vocals: "They make me dream your dreams! They make me scream your screams!" comes the cry from Bellamy, like the sound of a man driven insane by some twisted new form of mental torture.

Indeed, the mid-section of the album offers up some of the band's best work: Not just on this record, but in their back catalogue as a whole. 'Unintended' is still one of Muse's most tender moments, the fragile sound of a man struck so hard by love that he's got to scrape the shattered pieces of his heart from the floor before he can carry on with his life. Completely different, but no less brilliant, is 'Uno', which operates a perfect loud/quiet dynamic, opening with a squall of guitars before quietening down to little more than ominous guitar strums as Bellamy's malicious vocal cranks up the tension. And then it explodes once again in the chorus: "You could've been number one, and you could've ruled the whole world, and we could've had so much fun: But you blew it away!" screams Bellamy, his voice somehow encompassing both seething bitterness and wailing heartache. This leaves 'Sober' with a lot to live up to, and it just about manages it without being overly spectacular, but the thrashed-out guitars and wailing falsetto of the chorus do enough to keep it reasonably memorable.

As the album draws to a close, 'Overdue' storms through its two and a half minutes with Bellamy seething "I'm young, but I know when I'm aroused!" before his soaring falsetto returns on the chorus. Finally, in a fitting climax, 'Hate This And I'll Love You' alternates between strained, yearning vocals and a bombastic chorus that almost feels like a hint of what would come in the band's future, before presenting a tear-stained finale: "You lead me on," weeps Bellamy, before the guitars fade out to the chirping of crickets.

Looking back, Showbiz represents Muse before they had the intention of creating galaxy-spanning space rock or filthy intergalactic hip-shakers: Raw, visceral, and heartbroken, it's not aiming for the stars, but rather to hit you straight in the heart. In the context of their back catalogue, it represents somewhat of a paradox: It's not their most accomplished work, and yet some of their best songs are contained within it. Although it may have been difficult to see it at the time, in retrospect this album did contain a level of embryonic promise of the grander heights that the band would move on to - and in that sense, it's definitely worth your time to take a listen to it.