Meshuggah’s first album in four years begins with a hushed one-two-three-four hi-hat count courtesy of drummer Tomas Haake. Unless you’re listening on headphones, you’re likely to miss it—the first subtle-but-tangible indicator of the human element Meshuggah made a conscious effort to recapture this time out. Although the veteran metal quintet sounded newly invigorated on its last two albums, 2008’s obZen and 2012’s Koloss, The Violent Sleep of Reason is easily the most organic-sounding Meshuggah album in over 20 years.
For the first time since the 1994 EP None, Meshuggah opted to record as a band, tracking all guitars, bass, and drums more or less simultaneously. For proper perspective on the significance of this decision, one has to understand how comically anal-retentive Meshuggah’s writing and recording process had become. For the majority of the band’s catalog, each member has worked separately at computer work stations located in adjacent rooms in the studio. Of course, that approach weighted the focus towards digital editing and composition while band chemistry took a backseat.
Over time, it even became customary for Meshuggah to enter the studio without having rehearsed, and with each member hearing the other members’ songs for the first time. Given the heightened energy of the last two albums, one would expect the shift to a traditional recording approach to pay off on Violent Sleep. Metal bands, alas, inevitably lose vitality as they age. Which means that Meshuggah are unlikely to ever match the unbridled thrashing passion of classic titles like 1995’s Destroy Erase Improve and 1998’s Chaosphere. They manage to come close this time—at least in spots.
On second track “Born in Dissonance,” for example, Meshuggah bring the song’s galloping groove to life so convincingly that it’s virtually impossible to listen without doing something physical—pumping your fist, banging your head, getting behind the wheel of a car. Unfortunately, “Dissonance” is one of only two songs on the whole album that are built out of driving grooves. The rest of Violent Sleep bears more of a resemblance to the stiff, plodding material on Meshuggah’s middle-period albums, 2002’s Nothing and 2005’s Catch Thirtythree.
After an encouraging start, Violent Sleep begins to get mired in tentative rhythms that hover and even grate rather than achieve the kind of acceleration that Meshuggah excel at when they choose to pick up the pace. At times, the bare-bones immediacy of the production even clashes with the downtempo vibe of the songs, some of which could have benefited from more of obZen’s ambience.
Haake, the band's chief lyricist, avoids explicit references to terrorism or religious fanaticism. But one doesn't have to read far between the lines to discern the contempt behind a staunchly atheistic song like “Stifled”—or to locate its context in current events when vocalist Jens Kidman barks about “Your self-avowed murderous God.../Your commands unheard underground/Where your voice will never resonate.../Your sleep no longer impermanent/Decaying matter now sums you up/Like all the lives you’ve taken/Now so are you retreating to dust.”
Haake’s point (and point of view) remains vague throughout the album. But the album title positions humanity at a point of collective spasm, as if “reason” and the forces that oppose it—blind religious fervor, most obviously—continue to lock in a deadly contest that leaves mass casualties in its wake. The Violent Sleep of Reason galvanizes most when Meshuggah rise to the challenge of writing music that matches the urgency and global scope of its subjects. All too often, though, even as they’re captured playing together in a room for the first time in ages, Meshuggah sound a tad more comfortable than agitated.
