Every Rob Zombie and White Zombie album ranked from worst to best – Louder

Whether you got into Rob Zombie through his movies or his music, one things for certain: man knows a tune. Since forming White Zombie in 1985, the creature born as Robert Bartleh Cummings has rattled through ten albums of gore-soaked ditties, leaving in his wake a trail of cobwebs, ectoplasm and whatever leaks from a person when they die.

Its a chunky catalogue, and given his new record, The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy, comes out next March, nows as good a time as any to get acquainted with Robs aural abominations. Here they are, ranked worst to beast - step into the spookshow, baby.

Rob Zombie may have become one of metals most recognisable figures, but White Zombie crawled out of the New York underground noise scene. Their debut album really is the sound of art school students finding their feet. The riffs just dont stick, the beats dont move you, and Robs signature drawl sounds like its been numbed after extensive dental surgery - youll occasionally gobble up an earworm like Die Zombie Die, but this is a curio more than anything else

Robs third solo album and his first since playing dress-up as a Hollywood director, Educated Horses fatal flaw is its sandpapered edges. The bite, the pizzaz, the razor-sharp repulsion across much of his solo work is what often makes it so appealing - he can flit between industrial metal and rocknroll wooziness like the flick of a switch/stick of a witch. This record unfortunately leans too much on that glammy excess and comes off rather bloated as a result, Foxy Foxys T. Rex-ish swagger being the main casualty. But when he gets it right, as with Lords of Salems spooky spaghetti Western storytelling, its testament to Robs willingness to experiment.

If youre tracing the roots of Rob Zombie, this is where his signature sound truly begins. White Zombies second attempt goes hard on that groove metal stomp, and while Bill Laswells paper-thin production firmly locks the record in the late eighties, you cant deny the strength of these songs. Those southern-fried riffs dancing through the thrash on Demonspeed, simultaneously evoking Ministry and Metallica; the double-kick fury spurring Godslayer on, abating for some triumphant guitar wankery from John Ricci - lovely stuff. Its excessive, eccentric and electrifying. Just not the finished article yet.

Robs flair for the dramatic dominates solo album number four, Jesus Frankenstein kicking things off like the opening credits to a Ridley Scott epic but, well, with zombies. Its a welcome return to the rotten after Educated Horses detour, the likes of Sick Bubblegum and Mars Needs Women pumping out metal-tinged choruses that make no sense and dont need to, such is their stickiness. Rob ends the record on an even more dramatic note than it started, The Man Who Laughs nerve-wracking strings pulled straight from the closing scenes of a slasher flick - if only for the tension to be sliced in half by Tommy Clufetos, um, four minute drum solo. No need for that, mate.

White Zombies third full-length saw Rob and the gang stuff Make Them Die Slowlys grooves through a mince-grinder of bluesy guitar licks and exploitation film samples, tightening their offering and ensuring every song dug into your brain and set up camp there. Theres the obvious stuff like Thunder Kiss 65 and Black Sunshine, but this record is nearly an hour long - even tracks like Grindhouse (A Go-Go), tucked right at the arse-end of the disc, will be stuck in your head for weeks. The samplings reminiscent of the days hip-hop; the psychedelic, drugged-up vibe fit right in with the likes of Soundgarden and Alice In Chains dark take on alternative rock. Le Sexorcisto inadvertently straddled the zeitgeist and ended up going two-times platinum in the US.

Despite a title that reads like a Rob Zombie parody, Electric Warlock is surprisingly succinct. Clocking in at thirty-one minutes across twelve songs, his sixth solo outing is essentially the Zombie version of punk rock. Its all vibrant, dayglo, sharktooth-sharp riffs backed by the hammiest of keys and John 5s Tom Morello-isms on stuff like Medication for the Melancholy. And theres still room for left-hand-path turns: Well, Everybodys Fucking in a U.F.O. has Rob go full-on Les Claypool with one of his catchiest vocal lines ever, while album finale Wurdalak climaxes with some properly gorgeous piano. Electric Warlock is horny, heavy and, in its final two minutes, genuinely heartfelt.

Basically a more boneheaded, muscular cousin to Electric Warlock, Robs fifth record is industrial metal through a keyboard-laden kaleidoscope reflecting, dunno, bench-pressing werewolves or something. Its so fun - Rock And Roll (In a Black Hole) drives a dirty Rammstein riff through equally Germanic techno beats, with White Trash Freaks not trailing far behind. Of all his 2010s output, Venomous Rat is undoubtedly the most enthusiastically bug-eyed - the hippy-dippy energys so infectious, it doesnt even matter that Teenage Nosferatu Pussys chorus wholesale rips off Demonoid Phenomenon.

The Difficult Second Solo Album? Nah. Rob Zombie jettisons that concept into space like the Xenomorph at the end of Alien, with pretty much every song on The Sinister Urge justifying him as a star in his own right. Slightly more metal than what came directly came before, the album doesnt skimp on the accoutrements that make Rob one of heavy musics most idiosyncratic songwriters: spooky-dooky movie samples, 4/4 drum beats to cave in the dankest of dancefloors, and ludicrously over-the-top industrial anthems about death, dying and the dead. Whether its the table-flipping primal energy of Scum of the Earth or Feel so Numbs irresistible refrain, its all just so immediate. Urgent. Not very sinister, mind.

Its everything La Sexorcisto was but leveled-up. Astro Creep served as White Zombies fourth and final album, and yeah, they really did save the best till last. Produced by Terry Date, the record pulls no punches, just flesh from haunches - you dont need us to remind you how perfect More Human than Humans slithering slide guitar is. Youve already remembered. There it is. Across 11 songs and 52 minutes, White Zombie rattled through enough grooves, gabbering and gut-twisting heaviness to rival any metal band in the 90s.

This is it. The hit factory. The goldmine. Every song on Hellbilly Deluxe could be a single, all packing chant-along choruses to bury a body to. Youve got Dragula, Living Dead Girl, Superbeast - but what about deeper cuts like Demonoid Phenomenon and Spookshow Baby? All just as valid, just as vital.

Robs debut solo album and White Zombies break-up both happened mere months apart, and Hellbilly Deluxe is truly Robs: he took the White Zombie sound and futurised it, all industrial metal choppiness, bastard-heavy beats and timeless horror movie keys. Even the interludes are warranted - it all plays out like a creature feature, a demonic drive-in through which youre blindfolded and subject to some of the most instantaneous, pulse-piercing metal anthems of the nineties with a man screaming Yeah! every other line. To say its a body of work mainly concerning the undead, it does a cracking job at making you feel alive. Absolutely essential listening.

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Every Rob Zombie and White Zombie album ranked from worst to best - Louder

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Reviewed and Recommended by Erik Baquero
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