Barnes & Noble
Following the Smashing Pumpkins' atmospheric, electronically-embellished last record, ADORE, MACHINA: THE MACHINES OF GOD is being hailed as a return to the band's ass-kicking, guitar-rockin' roots. In some ways it is, as evidenced by the ripping opener "The Everlasting Gaze" and the tongue-in-cheek "Heavy Metal Machines," which gallops like Roman soldiers storming into battle. But MACHINA also has its softer moments, like the delicate "Try, Try, Try," the sprawling "Raindrops and Sunshowers," and the pop-y "Eye of the Mourning." Even the most elegant and tender passages are graced with urgency, thanks to the drumming of Jimmy Chamberlain, who recently returned to Pumpkin-land after being banished in 1996 for his inability to kick drugs. While Corgan is still the Pumpkins' ringmaster, crafting all the melodies, guitar parts, and bass lines, Chamberlain and guitarist James Iha settle into a groove that supports Corgan's vision in a way that the drum machine and samplers on ADORE never could. As a result, MACHINA is heavy enough to reattract old-school fans without losing the more sonically adventurous crowd that gathered for the last round of Pumpkin pie. Jon Wiederhorn
All Music Guide
Any record called MACHINA/The Machines of God couldn't be a pure rock album. The title suggests this is a concept album, which are at least a little progressive. As it happens, MACHINA is a lot progressive. Though it's damn near impossible to figure out the story line, the album plays like a concept album, with each track floating into the next, winding up with an album artier than Adore. That's not a liability, since the Smashing Pumpkins were always arty, yet Billy Corgan was very clever in camouflaging his artiness. "The Everlasting Gaze" rocks more overtly than anything on Adore, and the storybook-styled artwork deliberately evokes memories of Mellon Collie. Enthusiasts will find moments to admire throughout MACHINA, but ultimately, they might be disappointed with a record that crosses Mellon Collie with Adore without relying on the strengths of either. MACHINA appears to be ornately straightforward, yet as it progresses, it becomes increasingly insular. By the time it gets to "Heavy Metal Machine," designed as the record's crushing centerpiece, its weaknesses become apparent. "Heavy Metal Machine" should be a brutal, bruising experience, yet it's toothless, processed within an inch of its life. It becomes clear that the chief strength of the album is production. Not once does MACHINA ever feel like the work of a band; it feels as if it was painstakingly assembled by Corgan and Flood. The Smashing Pumpkins have always been Corgan's band, but they've never sounded like a solo vehicle the way that they do here. Stephen Thomas Erlewine