The Dillinger Escape Plan, Glassjaw, Dir En Grey @ The Hi-Fi Bar, Melbourne (27/02/2014)
Like Hobbits to the Shire, my Soundwave adventure lead me ultimately back to where I started, The Hi-Fi. And for this homecoming there was quite a celebration, with an All-star line-up worthy of at least one Shrek reference. After a staggering wait in the line that ran nearly straight from the train station, I was in, and just in time for the booming thunder and electronic samples that signalled Japanese heavyweights Dir En Grey were about to make their entrance.
Despite relying more on theatrics as their usual show normally does, the extreme metal five piece elected a much more direct approach, with vocalist Ryo simply grabbing the mic and swinging himself around as a club on the stage. The breadth of Ryo's vocals are as extreme the music they make, slipping from growls low enough to speak to Cerberus to shrieking high screams, then to the smoothness of a lounge singer all in the space of three seconds. Over the next forty minutes the stage is nigh torn apart by the titanic force that is Dir En Grey. Although there were barely any applause when they came onto stage, the left to a roar of approval.
Tasked with the nigh impossible objective of overcoming such a performance, Long Island's Glassjaw begun setting up. Now, it's time I get a bit personal with you guys. I've been a Glassjaw fan for about 5 years now. Their performance of Two Tabs of Mescaline at Melbourne Soundwave in 2010 is one of my favourite things in the history of things. So I can say that that performance, without a doubt, was the worst show I have ever seen in my seven years of near constant gigging.
So, let's set the scene shall we? After numerous technical difficulties that delay the set by ten minutes, guitarist Justin Beck bursts the silence with a stupefying shriek. It's not until the rest of the band turn up onstage that you realise this isn't just tech screwing up, that the guitar is set up as so that no notes can be heard, just piercing static. Which had Glassjaw not been a typical guitar based hardcore band, may have worked. Vocalist Darryl Palumbo comes out to the cheers of hundreds, and the band launch into Mu Empire off their classic album Worship and Tribute. Not that you can tell, as the entire song is filled with unnecessary vocal gymnastics that manage to hit every note except the one that fits the key, plodding drum fills that barely fit into the space provided, and the fact that no one seems to be in time.
While onstage, Palumbo stank of a particularly foul arrogance despite doing very little to justify this. And although some performers use their arrogance to further their show, all this seemed to do was bring Palumbo to try recreate their set mid show. The result was cringe worthy to say the least. At least they had the sense to play tracks from all through their discography just to really hone in how ineffective they were. After a particularly poor rendition of Siberian Kiss off 1999's Everything you Ever Wanted to Know About Silence, they walk off to an applause as inexplicable as it is plentiful.
The Dillinger Escape Plan makes their way out next in a mixture of fuzz and screeching. From the get go the band is staggering their disjointed band of mathcore out with gusto, beginning with Prancer off their newest album One of Us is the Killer. By the time the song is over an amp has already been thrown across the stage and vocalist Greg Puciato has already dived into the heart of the crowd, pulsating like an agitated pimple.
Despite some poor mixing, the band is still at the top of their game, shredding hits such as Milk Lizard and Panasonic Youth with enough ease to still flip and throw their instruments (and themselves all about. During Gold Teeth on a Bum, guitarist Ben Weinman showcases his ability to perform some of the fastest playing this side of technical metal, all atop of a crowd of angry yet adoring hands. There's never a dull moment.
After a brief pause backstage, the Dillinger Escape Plan return plus one face familiar to many in the crowd. Now backed by CJ of the infamous Thy Art Is Murder, they launch into a cover of Apex Twin's Come to Daddy. Though the cameo is short, it's one to be remembered. Finishing things up with 43% Burnt, the stuntmen of mathcore leave to the very same wall of fuzz they walk in to.
Ben Spencer
Despite relying more on theatrics as their usual show normally does, the extreme metal five piece elected a much more direct approach, with vocalist Ryo simply grabbing the mic and swinging himself around as a club on the stage. The breadth of Ryo's vocals are as extreme the music they make, slipping from growls low enough to speak to Cerberus to shrieking high screams, then to the smoothness of a lounge singer all in the space of three seconds. Over the next forty minutes the stage is nigh torn apart by the titanic force that is Dir En Grey. Although there were barely any applause when they came onto stage, the left to a roar of approval.
Tasked with the nigh impossible objective of overcoming such a performance, Long Island's Glassjaw begun setting up. Now, it's time I get a bit personal with you guys. I've been a Glassjaw fan for about 5 years now. Their performance of Two Tabs of Mescaline at Melbourne Soundwave in 2010 is one of my favourite things in the history of things. So I can say that that performance, without a doubt, was the worst show I have ever seen in my seven years of near constant gigging.
So, let's set the scene shall we? After numerous technical difficulties that delay the set by ten minutes, guitarist Justin Beck bursts the silence with a stupefying shriek. It's not until the rest of the band turn up onstage that you realise this isn't just tech screwing up, that the guitar is set up as so that no notes can be heard, just piercing static. Which had Glassjaw not been a typical guitar based hardcore band, may have worked. Vocalist Darryl Palumbo comes out to the cheers of hundreds, and the band launch into Mu Empire off their classic album Worship and Tribute. Not that you can tell, as the entire song is filled with unnecessary vocal gymnastics that manage to hit every note except the one that fits the key, plodding drum fills that barely fit into the space provided, and the fact that no one seems to be in time.
While onstage, Palumbo stank of a particularly foul arrogance despite doing very little to justify this. And although some performers use their arrogance to further their show, all this seemed to do was bring Palumbo to try recreate their set mid show. The result was cringe worthy to say the least. At least they had the sense to play tracks from all through their discography just to really hone in how ineffective they were. After a particularly poor rendition of Siberian Kiss off 1999's Everything you Ever Wanted to Know About Silence, they walk off to an applause as inexplicable as it is plentiful.
The Dillinger Escape Plan makes their way out next in a mixture of fuzz and screeching. From the get go the band is staggering their disjointed band of mathcore out with gusto, beginning with Prancer off their newest album One of Us is the Killer. By the time the song is over an amp has already been thrown across the stage and vocalist Greg Puciato has already dived into the heart of the crowd, pulsating like an agitated pimple.
Despite some poor mixing, the band is still at the top of their game, shredding hits such as Milk Lizard and Panasonic Youth with enough ease to still flip and throw their instruments (and themselves all about. During Gold Teeth on a Bum, guitarist Ben Weinman showcases his ability to perform some of the fastest playing this side of technical metal, all atop of a crowd of angry yet adoring hands. There's never a dull moment.
After a brief pause backstage, the Dillinger Escape Plan return plus one face familiar to many in the crowd. Now backed by CJ of the infamous Thy Art Is Murder, they launch into a cover of Apex Twin's Come to Daddy. Though the cameo is short, it's one to be remembered. Finishing things up with 43% Burnt, the stuntmen of mathcore leave to the very same wall of fuzz they walk in to.
Ben Spencer