What a strange little time capsule of the 90s. Methods of Mayhem’s debut album is a fascinating blend of industrial, nu-metal, rap-rock hybrids, and funky, futuristic DJ tracks, offering a vivid reminder of the chaotic musical landscape of the era. At the center of it all is Tommy Lee, at the peak of his fame post-Mötley Crüe, trying to maintain relevance while living out his outrageous, headline-grabbing lifestyle. It’s as if Tommy threw every popular musical trend of the time into a blender, added his personal turmoil, and this chaotic record emerged.

Unfortunately, the result is far from polished. The album is rife with bad lyrics, poor production, and dated sounds that only amplify its '90s era quirks. The ultimate offender here is the lead single, "Get Naked." Upon revisiting it, it’s hard to believe this was the track chosen to promote the album. The lyrics are cringeworthy, focusing on crude and juvenile themes like "sitting in cum," while the production feels empty and the beats are weak. It’s difficult to see how this track ever became a highlight.

Other songs on the album suffer from similar issues, though none quite as painfully as “Get Naked.” Tracks like “New Skin,” “Crash,” and “Metamorphosis” all share the same fundamental flaw: Tommy Lee's vocals. They’re muffled, low, and at times nearly inaudible, and his vocal stylings—often trying out odd singing techniques—just don’t suit his voice. Instead of coming across as edgy, they feel forced and awkward.

That said, the album isn’t entirely without merit. There are a few moments where the rock-rap hybrid approach actually works, like on “Proposition Fuck You.” Here, the production feels more cohesive and natural, with catchy hooks that actually pull you in. Likewise, “Hypocritical” stands out as a track where everything falls into place. The production and style are solid, and while the lyrics are a bit cheesy, the overall vibe makes it easy to overlook those shortcomings.

Then there’s “Spun,” a cool, trance-like techno track that would have fit right in with early 2000s electronic music, and—refreshingly—doesn’t feature Tommy’s vocals at all. It’s a welcome break from the chaos of the rest of the album and offers a taste of something different.

Ultimately, Methods of Mayhem is a product of its time, reflecting the frenetic energy and experimental spirit of the late 90s. While it may have served its purpose when it was first released, it doesn’t really hold up today. It’s an album that doesn’t need to be rediscovered or put back on heavy rotation. It’s a curious relic of an era that, for better or worse, is best left in the past.