Review By

Todd Martens

Shiny and Oh So Bright goes down relatively easy—a pleasant if innocuous listen. Working again with famed producer Rick Rubin, the man behind the boards for the Smashing Pumpkins’ still-underrated dreamy dreariness on 1998’s Adore, the music certainly sounds terrific. The strings on “Knights of Malta,” provided by the rock-influenced orchestral ensemble the Section Quartet, provide a lovely counter to leader Billy Corgan’s trademark upper-register tartness. The Motorik rhythm on “Silvery Sometimes (Ghosts)” comes across as irresistibly propulsive, and when the band flashes guitar muscle on “Solara,” it’s clear the group can still rage. Only everything appears slightly constrained. The song attempts to switch into a higher gear—drummer Jimmy Chamberlin does his part with a spazzy turn near the end—but it ultimately settles for air-guitar riffage rather than Smashing Pumpkins-like shifts in dynamics and tone.

Of course, no one should expect Siamese Dream II. The Smashing Pumpkins in 2018 are an easy target, especially when the act’s interpersonal drama goes public. Plus, the group’s recent arena tour largely represented what Corgan always pledged to avoid: a nostalgia-based reunion trek. If the band’s brand is no longer as potent as it once was, it can be argued Corgan helped dilute it by way of the self-indulgent multi-year project Teargarden by Kaleidyscope and erratic, contradictory interviews.

Yet while Shiny and Oh So Bright falls short of a peak return to form, it’s far from a train wreck. It contains a few forgettable moments—the borderline rock ballad of “Travels” feels part Smashing Pumpkins, part Goo Goo Dolls, and “Alienation” symbolizes outdated grunge angst—but the signs of life outweigh any dead zones. Besides, even if one doesn’t give the Smashing Pumpkins a pass for the fact that Corgan, Chamberlin, and James Iha haven’t played together for more than 15 years, the slick comfort of “Silvery Sometimes (Ghosts)” and surprisingly bluesy hard rock of “Marchin’ On” cannot be denied. (You also may wonder what Shiny and Oh So Bright would have been like if the band recorded it after the tour—coming at the material road-tested and battle-worn instead of still learning its way.)

Shiny and Oh So Bright also still manages to feel like an event, at least when it comes to the vinyl packaging. A handsome, hefty, and graphically attractive gatefold sleeve holds the vinyl and contains a deluxe-worthy 16-page booklet. The album cover’s futuristic, Roman sculpture-inspired art continues inside the insert, with each Smashing Pumpkin member’s face drawn to resemble a stone figure. Each song also gets a full page with legible lyrics. So say what you want about Corgan. He clearly views music as sacred—and worthy of meaningful visual accompaniment.

Too bad, then, several songs largely lack the sonic depth of the Smashing Pumpkins’ finer efforts. Particularly given the midrange heft and front-and-center vocals conveyed by the LP, which would sonically rate even higher if not for occasional barriers preventing Chamberlin’s drumming from fully exploding. Captured at Rubin’s Shangri La Studios in Malibu, California, the recording nonetheless has room to breathe—as if waiting for Corgan and company to start adding layers. And only on the opening moments of each side did I hear any betrayal of the LP’s otherwise flat and quiet qualities.