By: Philip Weller
“Farewell, fair cruelty.”
William Shakespeare
“It's just kind of known in the music industry that a farewell tour means 'for now.’”
Nikki Sixx
The Dillinger Escape Plan are a violent, Molotov Cocktail of aggressively
designed soundscapes. From the rhinoceros charge of hardcore to their chaotic
and angular mathcore inhibitions, as strobe lights flash and flicker like a
warzone in a thunderstorm in Manchester
Bodies
packed in tight, a sticky sense of anticipation clogging up the air; an
intensity ready to burst. Tonight has the feel of a proper gig, tonight is
going to be sweaty. Then, as the band burst, exploding like a hand grenade,
into ‘Limerent Death’s’ opening grooves, which resemble the sound
of metal scraping on concrete, it begins. Only the day before had Swedish tech
metal giants Meshuggah laid waste to
the city across town at The Ritz.
That was catastrophically heavy, leaving you breathless, motionless, their
perfectly timed lights show as mesmerising as the abundance of face distorting
riffs. But here, while still being heavier than an elephant’s turd, their music
has a different effect. As their lightshow does its upmost to blind you, you
watch the band’s silhouettes throw themselves across the stage as if battling
an itch that will not be scratched, the urge to do likewise surges inside you.
This is heavy, but this is fun.
And
their songs have so much character to boot. ‘Black Bubblegum’ is
anthemic, it sounds fictionally massive and the whole room gets caught in its
web. ‘When I Lost My Bet’ is inhumanly tight, with its off-beat,
blitzing attack opening up the mosh pit as if it were the mouth of hell. ‘One
Of Us Is The Killer’ is heart and gut wrenching in equal measure;
haunted and beautiful, like a wolf dressed in Granma’s clothes, it is a pop
single with deadly and sinister intentions.
Alongside
earlier material, like the sheer musical obliteration of ‘Farewell, Mona Lisa’ –
and one where Weinman really flaunts his technical guitar wizardry – ‘Sympton of Terminal Illness’, taken
from their aptly titled final record ‘Dissociation’, represents their growth
is beholden in all its glory. The latter builds on eerie broken guitar chords,
infused with occasional thrust of metallic impotence and capped with a searing
chorus. The heaviness and the insanity is still there, but the song writing is
sharper, smarter and more dynamic. For all the decibel plundering however,
there is so much personality which colours and brightens their songs. ‘Milk
Lizard’ however, will always be the true party smasher.
Having
seen Puciato in The Black Queen, a
band where he can really explore the depth and quality of his singing
abilities, to see him here in a more rabid setting is a delight. It is credence
too, to a special talent.
‘Mouth
Of Ghosts’ is one of the most incredibly surreal and hypnotising songs
to witness in the flesh. That galloping beat, which waltzes with a gorgeous,
emotionally distraught piano line brings a kaleidoscope of images to your head.
From vast open plains to the red deserts of Cydonia, it is the kind of song
which stirs the soul and heightens inner contemplation. It introduces an encore
cut unfortunately short. Halfway through ‘Sunshine Werewolf’ they
cut the music and raise the lights. Someone in the crowd is having a seizure.
Puciato encourages the crowd to give the individual room and calls for medical
attention. The atmosphere in the room changes, a real concern blankets us all.
It dampens the spirit and indeed the power of the band’s farewell to a city
that has supported them for a long time. But it also accentuates the
band’s humility. They sound like animals, play like animals, but have hearts
that betray that visage: A heart that will be sorely missed when it stops
beating this July.
