Linkin Park, a name synonymous with a generation’s angst and musical innovation, holds a special place in the hearts of many, including myself. Growing up, their albums were the soundtrack to my high school years, a constant companion on my CD player and a source of identity through their merchandise. Like many, I gravitated towards their sound after being immersed in the heavier tones of bands like Slipknot, finding in Linkin Park a unique blend of raw emotion and musicality. Even now, my appreciation for Linkin Park Band Songs remains strong, though my perspective on their discography has evolved. While not every album hits the mark, even their lesser-praised works contain tracks that resonate deeply and carry significant personal meaning. Their ability to craft songs that were both emotionally relatable and incredibly engaging is a testament to their enduring appeal. Becoming a fan after the tragic passing of Chester Bennington, the band’s iconic lead vocalist, I, like many others, assumed the chapter of new Linkin Park music was closed. His voice was so intrinsic to their identity, and his loss was a blow that seemed insurmountable.
However, 2024 brought a surprising announcement: Linkin Park was not only back but revitalized with a new vocalist, Emily Armstrong, and a forthcoming album, “From Zero.”
While the circumstances surrounding the band’s reformation and the discourse around it are complex, and for those interested, Mariah Lansing’s article offers a detailed perspective, my focus remains squarely on the music itself. Unfortunately, the initial singles released ahead of “From Zero” left me underwhelmed. They seemed to prioritize a safe, radio-friendly sound, a departure from the raw energy that defined much of Linkin Park’s earlier work. While the band has always navigated the line between artistic expression and mainstream appeal, these new tracks felt devoid of the spirit and innovation that once characterized their music. The lead single, “The Emptiness Machine,” arguably the strongest of their new material, attempts to recapture the energy of their nu-metal origins but falls short, hampered by a somewhat lackluster production and an emotional landscape that feels more manufactured than genuine.
A significant factor contributing to my disappointment with this new Linkin Park era is the lack of emotional connection. The band’s power, for me and many fans, stemmed from the palpable emotion poured into their songs. Even “One More Light,” their 2017 pop-infused album that faced criticism for its stylistic shift, contained moments of vulnerability and sincerity, particularly in the title track. While “One More Light” isn’t a personal favorite album, it offered more emotional depth than “From Zero” manages to convey.
Beyond the subjective realm of emotional resonance, “From Zero” feels sonically uninspired and predictable. It sees Linkin Park revisiting familiar musical territory, but with a noticeable decline in songwriting quality. The tracks sound like echoes of classic Linkin Park songs, but also bear a resemblance to the numerous bands that emerged in the 2010s, emulating their sound to fit modern rock playlists and SiriusXM Octane rotations. While glimpses of the band’s former brilliance occasionally surface, they are often overshadowed by tired clichés, weak lyrical moments, and a general sense of tackiness that detracts from the album’s overall impact.
“The Emptiness Machine,” despite my reservations, has grown on me over time. It features a classic Linkin Park song structure, and the vocal handoff from Mike Shinoda to Emily Armstrong at the song’s outset is a compelling introduction to the new vocalist. It stands as the album’s strongest track, and the band’s choice to lead with it was strategic, capturing some of their signature energy, even if the lyrics remain somewhat generic.
However, tracks like “Cut the Bridge” exemplify the album’s weaknesses. The verses possess a sterile, awkward groove, an odd rhythmic choice for a hard rock song. The repetitive, almost chanted chorus of “cut it down, cut it down, down, cut it, cut it down” feels forced and out of place, making it arguably my least favorite track on the album. It’s not unlistenable, but it veers into a level of tackiness I hadn’t anticipated from Linkin Park.
“Casualty,” intended as the album’s heaviest offering, suffers from a sense of artificial aggression. Armstrong’s strained screams, combined with Shinoda’s foray into a punk-style vocal delivery, make the track feel like an over-the-top attempt at intensity. The lack of genuine anger renders it performative, all sound and fury but lacking genuine impact. Regardless of one’s opinion on early Linkin Park, songs like “Don’t Stay” and “By Myself” undeniably possessed a raw ferocity. While I don’t expect the band to replicate that anger, if they aim to project aggression, it needs to feel authentic.
“Overflow” presents a different kind of misstep. The song attempts a grander, more atmospheric sound, reminiscent of tracks from their “A Thousand Suns” album. However, the ambiance it constructs is flat and unengaging, and the track maintains a monotonous energy throughout. Shinoda’s peculiar vocal inflections and a jarringly distorted guitar that enters at the song’s conclusion leave me puzzled about the band’s artistic intentions. It feels disjointed from the nu-metal revivalism and radio rock formulas that dominate the rest of the album, and instead of offering a moment of respite, it simply feels out of place.
The most overt attempt to recapture their early 2000s nu-metal sound comes with “Two Faced,” a track that bears a striking resemblance to their classic hit “One Step Closer,” a connection many fans have already noted. While it may evoke a sense of nostalgia, the question remains: why settle for this when the original, superior version exists? “One Step Closer” might be considered melodramatic or even cheesy by some, but its strong production, genuine angst, powerful vocals, and timeless quality set it apart. “Two Faced” feels like a diluted “One Step Closer: Part Two,” a cheaper imitation. The band even self-references with the bridge, featuring screams and turntables over heavy riffs, echoing the original song with slightly altered lyrics – “Stop yelling at me!” replacing “Shut up when I’m talking to you!” Sadly, this track, despite its derivative nature, comes closest to evoking the feeling of their older music, yet still falls significantly short.
Much of this review involves comparisons to Linkin Park’s past work, a critique that might be deemed unfair. However, when a band establishes a reputation for producing exceptional music and then releases an album that is a weaker imitation of their past glories, it’s a relevant point of discussion. Had “From Zero” been released under a different band name, my perception might be different. But under the Linkin Park banner, expectations are inherently higher. Ultimately, I find myself disliking most of these new songs. The issues are compounded by the overly polished production and Armstrong’s vocal performance, which, despite her range and talent, occasionally falters. Her scream-singing sounds strained, and her straight screams often lack impact. While it’s unfair to expect her to replicate Bennington’s unparalleled versatility, her performance here doesn’t consistently hit the mark, and there are moments where vocal processing seems to further detract from her natural voice.
Perhaps my reaction is due to unfamiliarity with the new vocalist, or the shift in my own perspective as I’ve aged since my initial Linkin Park fandom, or perhaps it’s simply a case of heightened critical standards. It could be a combination of these factors, or something else entirely. Based on the singles, I anticipated a decent but ultimately unremarkable album. However, “From Zero” falls short of even those modest expectations, becoming, in my view, their weakest release. It feels like a nostalgic cash grab, relying on echoes of past successes rather than genuine artistic passion. Much of the controversy surrounding the band’s return might have been mitigated had they released this music under a different name, signaling it as a separate entity formed by the remaining Linkin Park members. This might have lessened the perception of a commercially motivated move.
To be clear, “From Zero” is not a terrible album, but it lacks any compelling reason for repeated listens. While most of it is listenable in the moment, is that sufficient? Shouldn’t a band with a history of creating albums that fans revisit time and again be capable of more than just meeting the bare minimum standards of a “passable rock album”?
This critique is not intended as animosity towards the band or those who enjoy the album. Albums like “Meteora” and “A Thousand Suns” remain among my favorite rock records, and I will always cherish the comfort and solace their music provided during my formative years. However, “From Zero” simply doesn’t feel like it originates from the same band. In a sense, it doesn’t; beyond the new vocalist, the band members are now older, different individuals from the angst-ridden 20-somethings who penned songs like “Numb.” But the shift feels deeper than mere aging. Many bands have aged gracefully, but Linkin Park, in this instance, seems to have simply aged, losing the very sincerity that fueled my initial love for their music. Should they release another album in the future, I will approach it with an open mind, hoping to reconnect with their music. But with “From Zero,” they’ve missed the mark. It’s a lackluster reflection of their better songs, and when given the choice, I will undoubtedly return to the Linkin Park band songs that genuinely resonated and continue to endure.
