In 2000, not only was recovering from his fans' rejection of , he was scarred from Columbine and, worst of all, he was no longer America's demon dog. What was to do, standing on such uneasy ground? As a smart man and savvy marketer, he knew that it was time to consolidate his strengths, blend Omega with , and return with a harsh, controversial, operatic epic: a vulgar concept album to seduce his core audiences of alienated teens and cultural cops. The resulting album, , is intended as the third part of the trilogy beginning with , and its convoluted story line is fairly autobiographical, but the amazing thing isn't the story -- it's that he figured out to meld the hooks and subtle sonic shading of with the ugly, neo- metallicisms of . Consequently, it's easy to see this as the definitive album, since it's tuneful and abrasive. Then again, much of its charm lies in trying so hard, perfecting details in the concept, lyrics, themes, production, sequencing, the tarot card parodies in the liner notes, the self-theft, the self-consciously blasphemous cover art. There's so much effort, winds up a stronger and more consistent album than any of his other work. If there's any problem, it's that 's shock seems a little quaint in 2000. 's vibrant, surrealistic white-trash fantasias were the sound of 2000, while 's operas, religious baiting, and goth gear are from an era passed. It's to 's credit as, yes, an artist that works anyway. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine