photo by Ryan Onan, courtest of ugo.com
We’re not trying to advocate violence or anything, but there was a time when extreme music and insanity were synonymous: Morbid Angel guitarist Trey Azagthoth used to cut himself onstage and drink his own blood; Slayer fans would carve the band’s name in their flesh and dive from second floor balconies; and Scandinavian black metallers in Mayhem and Dissection took lives like vengeful, Satan-loving gangsta rappers. Even the nu-metal Korn fans would sometimes go at it with the old-metal guard.
Then things changed. Musicians became more career-oriented, venues got more lawsuit-conscious, metal got more predictable and, well, safer. Now, even the most outrageous bands (Watain, Gorgoroth) substitute shock value for danger. But once in a while, a group comes along that reaffirms faith in the chaos and violence of metal, and even more occasionally, someone delivers mayhem and gripping music in equal measure. And that's why Dillinger Escape Plan are on the verge of something truly explosive.
Not only is their new album, Ire Works, a stunning showcase of blunt ferocity, unerring precision and inhuman lunacy -- one that blends hardcore, technical metal and angular jazz like no one since John Zorn’s Naked City -- Dillinger’s live show echoes their studio spirit with a jawdropping display of precarious rollercoaster thrills and musical perfectionism.
It’s a strange combination, and one that leaves us dazed, deafened and wondering, what the f--- we just saw and heard. As for danger, Dillinger are like a precision slot car racer with a death wish. Even though singer and guitarist Ben Weinman broke his foot this year during a video shoot, forcing the band to cancel a bunch of tour dates, he jumps and jerks spasmodically as he plays, repeatedly swinging his instrument in a dangerous arc towards his healing foot. He also dives into the crowd during the sonic demolition of “Panasonic Youth.”
Weinman isn't Dillinger's sole lunatic. Singer Greg Puciato flings the mike stand across the crowded stage, whips a water bottle into the audience and leaps into the pit almost as often as he’s onstage. At the conclusion of “Sunshine,” he lights a torch, fills his mouth with lighting alcohol and blows clouds of flame over the crowd’s head. Then, he hands the lit torch to a fan, wades into the crowd and spits a final fireball that would give the local fire marshal an aneurysm.
Other surprises don't come directly from the band. During “43% Burnt,” a guy in a zip-up skeleton suit comes on, writhes like an epileptic, then removes his costume revealing a far-too-skimpy body thong. The band’s former singer Dimitri Minakakis sings guest vocals alongside Puciato on “Fix Your Face” and Robert Meadows, the singer for opening band, A Life Once Lost, joines on “Sunshine.”
Such antics and acrobatics – along with a blinding display of stage lights that resembles malfunctioning computer screens -- might upstage the band if Dillinger’s performance wasn't so devastatingly spot-on. Every musical jolt and jitter is played with the accuracy of a lab technician examining carcinogenic cells, and each song contains an assortment of frantically, tumbling beats (courtesy of new drummer Gil Sharone), barbed guitar licks (from Weinman and Jeff Tuttle) and soul-sullying screams that keeps us rapt, oblivious to the occasional lack of melody.
Genghis Tron and A Life Once Lost open the night with storming, competent sets of experimental electro-inflected death metal (the former) and modern American thrash (the latter), but both paled next to Dillinger’s anarchic, aural apocalypse. The future is theirs for the raping.
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