Serj Tankian’s solo debut, Elect the Dead, makes no conscious effort to stray from the eclectic, sonically dynamic, and politically charged style that made his former band, System of a Down (SOAD), famous.

However, due to the fact that Tankian plays virtually every instrument on the album except for strings and drums (the latter was recorded by SOAD band mate John Dolmayan), he is inevitably able to put his own personal mark on SOAD’s Armenian brand of hard rock.

The soft-hard-soft dynamics that Tankian is so fond of remain. However, the album contains an extraordinarily wide instrumentation that cannot be found in any of his previous works.

The fantastical "Honking Antelope" alone contains strings, acoustic guitars, piano, and female backing vocals spliced between intervals of pounding drums and monster riffs.

While many of the songs on the album begin softly before breaking into a booming tension, the opening track, "Empty Walls," immediately surges through the speakers without hesitation. The initial, pulsing guitars set the pace as the song begins on its twisted path through heart-wrenching melodies and crushing guitars that soar through Tankian’s earnest cries.

His urgings for political and social reform have reached a brutal honesty that was lost in much of SOAD’s ironic satire.

"Honking Antelope" expresses his lost faith in humanity through the demoralized lyrics, "We are the cause of a world that’s gone wrong/ Nature will survive us human dogs after all."

Unfortunately, this is one of the few songs that contains any sort of memorable riff. While Tankian has established himself as a versatile musician through his ability to play a wide array of instruments, he does not particularly excel at any one.

This translates to only slightly above average musicianship that may disappoint longtime SOAD fans that have come to expect Daron Malakian’s technical guitar prowess behind Tankian’s powerful vocals.

Where Tankian does shine is his ability to craft complex strong structures that overflow with catchy melodies. With very few exceptions, the intricate structuring of the tracks never reaches the point of self-indulgence. Tankian consistently gives the listeners’ ears enough of a concrete chorus to grasp onto as a point of reference in the midst of swirling melodies and layered vocals.

Tankian always seems to be on the verge of breaking from his SOAD roots but recedes back into familiarity when he feels he is about to go over the edge into entirely new territory (i.e. the jazzy, almost scat-like "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition").

While a complete shift in manner might have produced a more compelling endeavor overall, Tankian never strays from his initial message.