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Repeat at your own peril: Muse, "Drones"
"Revolt." "The Handler." "Dead Inside." An entire track of a JFK speech. You can't accuse Muse of not committing to concept, of their paranoid, dystopian conspiracy theories and sirens to the revolution. What one can conclude about the prog-rockers' new album "Drones" (K, WE GET IT MUSE) is their paralysis by these very binds, the cliched lyrics of thousand-yard stares, Bellamy's so-so falsetto mixed blandly into guitars that are always playing at eight, eight, eight, eight. "Mercy" wails with sarcastic hope in a major key, "Psycho" pounds with eager bile, but after a while with every note jammed with urgency, nothing feels urgent at all any more. For fans, this is Muse with laser focus. For detractors, a single-note slog.