"Always judge a band by its covers," says Ministry frontman Al Jourgensen. Indeed, covers have forensic value, revealing what a band has ingested. They also have sartorial significance; whose mantles do bands wear, and how do they fit? On Cover Up, Ministry rev up bluesy chestnuts, mostly from the 1970s. 2007's The Last Sucker was the band's final album of original material, but this odd coda may be more of a statement.
Ministry have gone through so many phases-- synth-pop, industrial dance, industrial metal, digital grunge, political thrash-- that their only connecting thread is Jourgensen. Even early on, he defied genre expectations. While his industrial peers wore fishnets, Jourgensen donned a cowboy hat and threatened to record a country album under the name Buck Satan. Amid Ministry's thunder lay flashes of humor: the scat-singing thrash of "Jesus Built My Hot Rod"; a strangely affecting cover, included here, of Bob Dylan's "Lay Lady Lay"; and scabrously edited soundbites of George W. Bush, Jourgensen's anti-muse on Ministry's final three records.
On Cover Up, Ministry send up heroes, not villains. The results are quite fun. Whether political or personal (Jourgensen's 20-year heroin addiction begrimed his late-90s/early-00s output), clouds have always hovered over Ministry; hearing them lift is refreshing. This is the afterparty for Ministry's career, and Jourgensen has brought out his oldest bottles. The Rolling Stones' "Under My Thumb" gets a tinkly intro that recalls Ministry's synth pop days. In 1990, Jourgensen covered Black Sabbath's "Supernaut" under the name 1000 Homo DJs; his howl was younger and more caustic then, and its inclusion here contrasts his lower, almost death metal-like growl on a bullheaded version of ZZ Top's "Just Got Paid". In its range, Cover Up subtly assays Ministry's decades-long run; a hidden track roasts their own hit "Stigmata" as an easy-listening a cappella.
In the last half of their career, Ministry loosened up, fuzzing up their guitars and slyly slipping in blues licks. After his seminal Wax Trax! days in Chicago, Jourgensen relocated to a Texas ranch which had formerly been a brothel. He refers to his current recording studio as a "compound"; Cover Up only reinforces his outlaw image. Instead of preaching the apocalypse, he now runs a circus inside it. Jourgensen sets the Doors' "Roadhouse Blues" to machine-gun thrash, yet warms it up with Hammond organ. On traditional work song "Black Betty", he revisits Ram Jam's classic, disco-tinged arrangement, but with huge, metallic riffs. Guitarist (and Prong frontman) Tommy Victor sings on two raucous cowbell workouts, Mountain's "Mississippi Queen" and Deep Purple's "Space Truckin'". Hearing the voice of Prong belting out Deep Purple over Ministry's hyperactive drum machine is simply sublime.
Cover Up completes Ministry's transformation from industrial icons to beer-chugging humans. On Louie Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World," Jourgensen emits a lovably Tom Waits-esque croak over teary-eyed barroom piano. Then the song inexplicably becomes a British punk raveup, albeit with battering ram percussion and walls of digital distortion. It's elegiacal yet triumphant, crazy yet logical, ironic yet sincere. One can practically see Jourgensen's musical life flashing before his eyes.
