Go to:
- Calculating Infinity (1999)
- Miss Machine (2004)
Calculating Infinity (1999)
6.5
Sugar Coated Sour / 43% Burnt / Jim Fear / *#.. / Destro's Secret
/ The Running Board / Clip the Apex… Accept Instruction / Calculating Infinity
/ 4th Grade Dropout / Weekend Sex Change / Variations on a Cocktail Dress
If
the Napalm Death of Scum and From Enslavement to Obliteration
were to concoct an album with Victims Family, Carcass, Bad Brains and Mr.
Bungle, under the guidance of Neil Peart, John Zorn and the late Chuck Schuldiner,
then perhaps the result would vaguely sound similar to the Dillinger Escape
Plan's full-length debut. Read that sentence again. If you can imagine how
fucked up it must sound, just multiply the craziness by three and you're nearly
there. This racket just ain't human anymore. The band are often referred to
as the founding fathers of a genre called "math-metal" or "math-core" and
- despite the fact that all this tagging is quite annoying - the description
is pretty much self-explicatory. And correct. This melting pot of grindcore,
extreme metal and fusion is so technically demanding, fast and, yes, mathematical
that it nearly takes a virtuoso to keep up. The guitar players switch from
tapping to ripping chords, twin-soloing, stops, turns, sudden twists, fractured
splinter-bombs, jazzy scales, laidback fusion breaks to razor-sharp incisions,
all of it creating an unbelievably dense trip that's almost topped by the
insane drumming of 8-armed Chris Pennie, whose cruel velocity, style-hopping,
fills and bass-drum assaults are beyond belief. On top of that, you have Dimitri
Minakakis, who takes the intense ranting of the angriest hardcore screamers
to another level of intensity. The guy's ferocity is, like that of his colleagues,
hard to describe in words, equally unpredictable and hard to make sense of.
During the most frenetic moments - the portfolio platter of "43% Burnt" and the more straightforward noise bursts of "Destro's Secret," "Clip the Apex" and "Variations on a Cocktail Dress," the band explore extremes probably a handful of other bands were even aware of. It is extremely strident, aggressive and hostile noise that can only conjure visions of pure violence and terror. Fortunately, the band settles for a less demanding section once in a while, even though these parts are often equally intricate, so filled with weird shifts and rhythms you'll have a hard time to keep up, even after dozens of listens. Songs like "The Running Board," "4th Grade Dropout," and "*#.." have a few sections that incorporate ambient sounds and jazzy twitches copped from fusion-albums, which makes the band approach Buckethead's metal-jazz fusion. But, as said before, screeching hardcore makes up most of these 32 minutes (the display will tell you it's 37 minutes long, but you can subtract five minutes of near-silence from the last song). The question remains then why not every music fan with a big record collection considers this an essential release, and as usual it boils down to the same old, discussion-stopping argument: taste. While the energy level throughout this album is too far-out to capture in words, it also turns the album in a hard-to-digest endurance test that's totally devoid of melody, humour, grooves that are continued for longer than four seconds and non-stop screeching. You don't need to be a musician to understand this album's unique quality. Because it's done this expertly (God, how I hate the legions of below-average metal-core bands out there that try to imitate this sound yet end up sounding as lame copycats of their friends' bands), the first thing you'll feel is awe, but the only reason why I would play this album, is to be reminded of how far things can be taken. You need the booklet to make sense of the elliptic, nihilistic lyrics that take themselves just a bit too serious and you need a whole lot of patience to sit through this merciless racket (which, quite honestly, is perfectly capable on giving me a nauseating headache on days when I'm not feeling too well), but if you're in it for the extreme kicks, Calculating Infinity is compulsory stuff. You were warned.
Miss Machine (2004)
7.5
Panasonic Youth / Sunshine the Werewolf / Highway Robbery / Van Damsel / Phone Home / We Are the Storm / Crutch Field Tongs / Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants / Baby's First Coffin / Unretrofied / The Perfect Design
"my
ears are now scarred for life after hearing this abomination. excuse me now
while i go throw up because just the thought of this band makes me sick. i
think later on this evening im gonna record myself vomiting/pooping and then
sell it to the neighborhood kids for $12.99 on cd, because thats the equivalent
of what these fools did to the music consumers of this world (who have no
taste in music)."
"This just isn't enjoyable music regardless of how 'talented' and chops-heavy it may be. Also this should not be spoken of as Metal - it's not Metal. It's Hardcore, and I wish Metal zines and critics and fans would stop putting this in the same camp with real Metal bands such as Opeth, Iron Maiden, etc...These guys are Metal. DEP are Hardcore with Jazz prentensions. Please, just put down the DEP and step away...Don't make the same mistake I made. KEEP HARDCORE (it's Punk not Metal) OUT OF METAL...it only weakens Metal." *
It seems as if the average person isn't capable - or willing, which would make it even more depressing - of making an effort, to explore the world outside of clear-cut, familiar patters, to let some color enter into his/her frame of reference. It's all about black and white, or more specifically, about me/us vs. them, which is nowhere more clear than in a large part of the preachy hardcore community. Similarly, it's also easiest to cling to straightforward messages, thought patterns and means used to express them. You could apply this to music as well: the most effective statements are those which get their message/style/core across in one listen. Nobody will pay attention if you prefer an opaque statement and unclear methods, because those need to sink in before they can make an impact. An album like Calculating Infinity, on the other hand, is like throwing a splinter bomb in a group of people. We'll show them what we're about, and there were no two ways about it: it was the incendiary product of a guerrilla outfit ignoring the refined rules of the art of war. It was all about the attack and being the first one to strike. It didn't matter that hardly anyone couldn't even figure out what the target was, it was all about the act of violence itself, about that nihilistic negation of giving credit to anything outside of the mould. There's only one thing you need to know about a kick in the nuts: it hurts. And there's more where it came from, too. As usual, people like to know what they're in for, and the same goes for music fans. If you're used to a certain kind of band and have made up your mind about them, told yourself "this is my kinda thang," then outsiders using roughly the same ingredients, but making a different dish won't be your best friends. Tossing off a cliché like de gustibus no est disputandum (what a party pooper that statement is) doesn't make sense either, because the key of the "problem" doesn't evolve around the fact whether someone likes it or not, but to the degree which it conforms to what he or she wants to hear. As such, most metal and hardcore fans will hate the Dillinger Escape Plan for sleeping with the enemy (now more than previously) and for those to whom Calculating Infinity became a favorite wet dream, there was only one kind of sophomore album that could top it: more of the same. Luckily it didn't work out that way, and the band knew they were gonna lose some hardcore fans in the process. The Irony Is a Dead Scene EP with vocal gymnast Mike Patton already introduced a slightly altered direction - one that wasn't likely to charm anyone not interested in heavy or experimental music, but nevertheless offered some breaks, different atmospheres. The addition of Patton was no problem whatsoever, because the guy's credibility is 100% bullet-proof, with a history in revolutionary band Faith No More (basically also the godfathers of nu-metal, for better or worse), a challenging side-project he never gave up while he was in the million-selling band (Mr. Bungle) and other projects/collaborations that showed he enjoyed nothing as much as fucking up expectations and exploring the outer limits of his physical possibilities. Of course, he's a staggeringly good vocalist on top of it.
"Why does this guy think he can sing like mike patton? what is it about his voice that makes me scratch my head in disgust? if dillinger wanted to do something new, thats great, but thats no reason to have a total lapse in judgement and taste. what happened to the dillinger that was so good and frightening it was funny? it was a caricature of chaos. This album is in NO way more ''groundbreaking'' than Calculating-listen to that album, then listen to this miss machine and scratch your head in disbelief. now they are just some wimpy math rock band with terrible vocals and terrible lyrics. my little sister would like this cd.
Alas, Patton's presence was only temporary and when the group found a new singer in the guise of mini-SCUD Greg Puciato, a fan who liked screaming as much as Minakakis, but, like Patton, also tried to go beyond that and croon, yell and sing. And he likes to puke and shit on stage, too, which is a bonus in some countries. And since I'm also just a regular guy, I have soft spot for the underdog, in this case Mr. Puciato, who for many people has been the black sheep since he joined the band two years ago. Admittedly the guy does sound like Patton a lot, especially when he's in the carnival-mode, switching singing styles like a schizophrenic on LSD ("Highway Robbery"), crooning lines that are almost too catchy ("Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants") or way too catchy, perversely so ("Unretrofied"). Granted, the monotonous shrieking of Minakakis - and boy, could he shriek - perhaps had a more direct punch, but there's nothing wrong with trying to colour outside of the lines, to give the finger to rigid ideology. It's what The Beatles did in 1965. Some fans who were more serious than all the hypocrites in the Catholic church combined claimed Puciato's contribution was the final drop and proved that the band was selling out on their second album, but uh… if you accuse any band of including songs like "Panasonic Youth," "Sunshine the Werewolf," "Van Damsel" and "Baby's First Coffin" on an album of selling out, you must be listening to industrial drills, Metal Machine Music and Tori Amos albums all day long. The dilution of the visceral energy is only that significant and will not suffice to attract the attention of kids that are currently under the influence of artificial nu-metal, exactly the direction which the band is accused of pursuing here. It's true that only a few cuts here fit the "insane-switch-stop-go-fucked-up-time-signatures-death-screech-faster-louder-God-this-can't-be-true"-mould from start to finish, as the band no longer wishes to dazzle you with ridiculous technical complexity and an ongoing restlessness. In fact, they even settle for a "groove" (well, almost) once in a while, repeating a riff more than just once or twice, and include some sections that are often more laidback and melancholy than anything they've ever done before. "Sunshine the Werewolf," for instance, is for the most part a relentless beating against the head, but also includes a break that captures a grandeur you couldn't find on Calculating Infinity, the good news being the it doesn't even come off as forced. And so the album thrashes on, smacking you in the face with sections and vocals that are entirely "new". Some parts are obviously inspired by Faith No More's creative albums, others are quite close to System of a Down's equally dazzling genre-hopping, and during "Phone Home," the band even pays tribute to the brooding industrial of Trent Reznor's Nine Inch Nails. Most offensive to fans of the band's earlier work are probably "Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants," which not only incorporates laidback jazzy interludes, but also relies on a - GASP - almost poppy chorus that's sung, not screeched; and the much-discussed "Unretrofied," song that would've fit on an album by Linkin Park / Disturbed / Incubus / * insert shitty band *-name, not only because of the minor key use, Puciato's attempt at rapping, the "can you feel my pain?"-harmonies, but also the heavy reliance on studio trickery in general. I'll tell you what: it's definitely not an album highlight - the chorus just gets tepid after a while, and the rapping already was before it left Puciato's mouth - but if this would be regarded as the standard for nu-metal and actually lived up to, the world would be a much nicer place.
If there's one major issue I still have with this band, apart from the fact they're just not my favorite, uhm, taste, you know, it's the fact that I ultimately can't make sense of what they stand for. I don't get them. Okay okay, I hear you coming, that's the case with so many interesting bands, they refuse to be pinned down, want to keep a certain mysterious core that keeps you coming back for more. The fact is, however, that most bands have a focus, creed or attitude you can actually make sense of. The classic hardcore bands told you stories about adolescent alienation or a society on the rampage, some bands are in it for the partyin'/women, others just to have fun and mess around with expectations (you could file Patton & most of his projects under this one, as well as many challenging, experimental bands out there that are pushing the envelope of heavy music), but then there are bands like The Dillinger Escape Plan who seem to lack this, who rarely betray humour, don't offer a lyrical focus and are so self-conscious and self-absorbed, so busy with their own art that I doesn't seem to relate to anything, apart from the plethora of influences. In that respect, they're perhaps one of the ultimate post-modern bands, and avoiding the identity-issue entirely. Let's wait for the third one, which undoubtedly will have all the answers.
* Note: God bless the Amazon customers I quoted.
Read album reviews of similar or related artists: