The all-too-obvious sentiments on this album — what kind of people are we really, underneath our skin? — sit oddly on music as darkly inventive as anything any coven of witches ever brewed. But then witches use organic ingredients: bats’ eyes, frogs’ claws. Danny Elfman, the guiding genius here, uses lots of synthesized stuff, producing a result teeming with the artificial life of an electrified black plastic jungle.
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