At 14 epic tracks, Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell III: The Monster Is Loose certainly is a monster of a record. It's aptly titled if the "monster" Meat Loaf refers to is overcooked balladry and cringe-inducing lyrics as well as the bombastic rock we've come to expect from the trilogy.

Granted, these elements were present on the first Bat Out of Hell, an unorthodox masterpiece that defied time-period and genre classification. From their grandiose covers — all of which incorporate a muscled biker soaring over some fiery landscape — to their arena-sized, rock-musical excess, the first two episodes of the trilogy are custom-made to shock and awe listeners with their complete lack of subtlety or pretense.

On his latest installment, Mr. Loaf achieves mixed results with these same ingredients, though it's not a bad album in the traditional sense. But he's rusty in all the little details, to the point that some songs are no longer so bad they're good, but rather just mediocre.

After all, it's been nearly 30 years since Bat Out of Hell was first released, and although the album remains in the top 200 on the UK charts to this day, the artist formerly known as Marvin Lee Aday has had his ups and downs. Following his success with Bat I, the singer suffered through second-rate solo albums, voice loss, bankruptcy and general obscurity.

Then, sixteen years later, Meat Loaf joined up again with collaborator and songwriter Jim Steinman to make Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell, a worldwide smash hit that earned Loaf a Grammy for rock vocal performance.

Recent years saw the Meat man occasionally touring and making small movie appearances, like his performance as the big-bosomed cancer survivor Bob in Fight Club.

Now, he's back with Bat III, a revamped version of the classic Bat sound. Whereas the original played like a '50s high school musical on Viagra, Bat III attempts to take the winning formula (something like "Phantom of the Opera" plus an overabundance of lewd rock 'n' roll behavior that no conscientious principal would ever allow) into the 21st century.
The influence of the new blood in Loaf's small army of backup musicians, more than 100 in all, is evident right off the bat (pun intended) with some crunching industrial-rock riffage that owes more to the neo-prog/metal of Tool and Porcupine Tree than it does to Grease. Throughout the rest of the album, it's clear that artists like Motley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx, Rob Zombie guitarist John 5 and guitar virtuoso Steve Vai have all had a chance to help shape the new material along with producer Desmond Child. Queen guitarist Brian May even lends his signature sound to "Bad for Good."

The album is in many ways a group effort, with songwriting contributions from these artists, as well as Bat I producer Todd Rundgren and Steinman, who contributed seven of the album's songs.

Child, Sixx and 5 penned the tile piece, which opens the third resurrection of the Bat promisingly enough with eerie, ambient drones, which are soon burst in upon by an aggressive, chugging, distortion guitar part. It's less than original, but Meat Loaf's vocals have always been more integral to the Bat albums than the music. Unfortunately, when the vocals come in on this tune, they're sure to disappoint many listeners — the beefy singer's sonorous bellow has been wussified by slick production values reminiscent of latter-day Britney Spears albums. It's unsettling in this context, a sickening hybrid of "Oops!… I did It Again" effects and Luciano Pavarotti-esque vibrato.

The voice that once reached the back rows of Broadway theatres during Meat Loaf's early days as a stage actor has been reduced to a weak warble on many of Bat III's slower songs. On several songs, Meat Loaf's voice has retained all of its operatic whine without any of the bluesy howl that previously tempered it. His vibrato-drenched bleating nearly kills "Cry Over Me," and duet partner Jennifer Hudson easily overshadows his forced passion on "The Future Ain't What It Used To Be," which also features the most egregious use of a gospel back-up choir in recent memory.

Too often the lyrics are to blame. Granted, the Bat trilogy is loosely based on the story "Peter Pan," but if Meat Loaf can't sell the listener on a cheesy song, nobody can.

Steinman's absence is felt on tracks like the self-righteously dramatic "If God Could Talk," a sub-par breakup song on which Meat tells his lover God would want her to come back to him. "What About Love" sounds like a song from "Rent" that didn't make the final cut; without poignancy of the AIDS and drug themes, it has all the bite of a contemporary church hymn.

Steinman's presence isn't the tipping point, however, considering that he wrote the abysmal "It's All Coming Back To Me Now," a loathsome piano-driven duet between Loaf and Marion Raven, whose alt-country stylings are completely uninspiring. Steinman and Meat Loaf have had success with duets in the past, most notably with the tongue-in-cheek teenage love song "Paradise By The Dashboard Light," sung with Ellen Foley and featuring a play-by-play of Meat Loaf's attempt to score courtesy of baseball announcer Phil Rizzuto.

And while Meat Loaf has never shied away from a big ol' Bolton-style ballad or duet, the Texan always managed to get in plenty of his own rough-around-the-edges personality. But "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" features none of this humor or personality, instead following in the footsteps of Celine Dion (who had a hit with the song in 1996).

The album doesn't hit its stride until the more rocking songs midway-through. "If It Ain't Broke, Break It" finally breaks some new ground with a high-octane mash-up of shredding hard rock guitars and huge, honking horns that hearken back to the original Bat Out of Hell's "All Revved Up With No Place To Go." The band members try to outdo each other on each roaring reprise of the main riff, with wailing metal guitars vying with processed drums and squealing trumpets for the glory of the old-meets-new blues/hard rock tune.

After a symphonic introduction of feature-film proportions, "Seize the Night" collapses into a simple piano riff, then goes into a tribal groove before taking off with a badass raunch-rock guitar part. Six-and-a-half minutes in, a boy choir suddenly chimes in with a segment of completely unnecessary "sanctus-domini-requiems." Once the schizophrenic odyssey ends after nearly ten minutes of pure excitement, any listener familiar with previous Bat's work will remember why Meat Loaf's the man.

It's hard to top a success like the first Bat, which sold over 34 million copies in 1977 and spawned seven hit singles, one for each track on the album. But Meat Loaf tries, and even though he fails on several of the songs, we still have a monster on our hands here.

Alec Luhn is the Associate ArtsEtc. Editor and a sophomore intending to major in journalism. Want to talk music with him? Direct any questions or comments to [email protected].