Six years is a long time, about one-and-a-half generations in
pop
music and a fairly large chunk out of anyone's life, two sentiments that come into play on
the Beastie Boys
' sixth album, 2004's
To the 5 Boroughs
. When
the Beasties
last delivered an album, it was in the summer of 1998 as the
Clinton
impeachment scandal was heating up, and just as that sordid saga closed the curtain on the swinging '90s,
Hello Nasty
served as both a culmination of the New York trio's remarkable comeback and as a capper to the
alt-rock
boom of the '90s, the last album of the decade to capture what the '90s actually felt like. Not only is the political and cultural landscape of 2004 much different than that of 1998,
are a different band in a different position. They're no longer on the vanguard of pop culture, setting the trends and styles, nor do they embody their time; like it or not, the po-faced, humorless brooding of
Coldplay
and
Wilco
is an appropriate soundtrack to the drab, dark days of the early 2000s. No,
are no longer groundbreakers; they're elder statesmen, operating outside of the fashions of the time. This has as much to do with maturity as it does with changing times. Now that
Ad-Rock
,
MCA
, and
Mike D
are all nearly 40, they're not as interested in being the world's hippest group, as evidenced by their abandonment of their
Grand Royal
empire at the turn of the decade, and that suspicion is borne out by
. Like many musicians at middle age,
are a little set in their ways, ignoring modern music nearly entirely and turning to the music of their youth for sustenance. For
, this means heavy doses of
old school rap
spiked with a bit of
punk
, which admittedly isn't all that different from the blueprints for
Check Your Head
Ill Communication
, but the attack here is clean and focused, far removed from the sprawling, kaleidoscopic mosaics of their '90s records. In contrast,
is sleek and streamlined, with all the loose ends neatly clipped and tied; even the
influences are transformed into
hip-hop
, as when
the Dead Boys
'
"Sonic Reducer"
provides the fuel for
"An Open Letter to NYC."
Given the emphasis on
, it may be tempting to label
Boroughs
as an old-school homage, but that isn't accurate, since nothing here sounds like a lost side from the
Sugarhill Records
stable. Still, old-school rhyme schemes and grooves do power the album, yet they're filtered through
' signature blend of absurdity, in-jokes, and pop culture, all served up in a dense, layered production so thick that it seems to boast more samples than it does. Apart from an explicit anti-
Dubya
political bent on some lyrics, there's nothing surprising or new here, and the cohesive, concise nature of
only emphasizes the familiarity of the music. Familiarity can be comforting, though, particularly in troubled times, and there's a certain pleasure simply hearing the trio again after six long years of silence, particularly since
are in good form here, crafting appealing productions and spitting out more rhymes than they have since
Paul's Boutique
. If there are no classics here, there's no duds, either, and given that
' pop culture aesthetic once seemed to be the territory of young men, it's rather impressive that they're maturing gracefully, turning into expert craftsmen that can deliver a satisfying listen like this. That's a subtle achievement, something that will likely not please those listeners looking for the shock of the new from a
Beastie Boys
record, but judged on its own musical merits,
is a satisfying listen, and convincing evidence that the trio will be able to weather middle age well. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine