You know, I really wasn’t sure what to expect from a new Laibach album, having not heard anything by them since their 1988 masterpiece Let it Be (now 26 years old). I’d been a casual fan, to put it mildly (also the owner of their 1987 Wax Trax! Records release, Opus Dei), so when Spectre found its way into my eye while on a weekend getaway up in Ventura Country, I couldn’t help but snatch it up thinking, why the hell not? I’ll be honest and say I’d (wrongfully) thought of Laibach as a long, running joke, what with their over-the-top fascist military uniforms and “totalitarian-style aesthetics.” What I found, thus far, from the six or so tracks I’ve consumed, is a collective sticking to their guns, or marching to their own beat, or waving their own flag (I’m tapped out of military references), while still maintaining their classic, oppressive, industrial sound. Like with any Laibach track, the beauty is found within repeated listens, and Spectre is no exception. Certain hilarious lyrics stand out that cue certain track repeats, but not one time, thus far, have I regretted my purchase, if only for feeding my overflowing curiosity.