More than three decades in, they’re rock royalty who’ve done what most can only dream of – land on a sound good enough to sustain a career.
And with early aughts revivalism all the rage, there hasn’t been such a sweet time for nu metal since, well, the early aughts. Heavy, angsty guitar bands like Chat Pile are pulling from the same influences as the baggy jean brigade of the Woodstock '99 era, while the likes of South Arcade, Scowl, and Sasami are dropping their Ds and thumping away at their power chords. Grab your wallet chains and your Etnies, boys – we’re back.
Deftones have never really been nu metal, though. While they were lumped in with Mudvayne et al, their post-punk and shoegaze tastes and talent for melody and texture set them apart from the pack. They don’t even play their one true nu metal tune (“Back To School”) anymore. The more nebulous alternative metal handle has always fit them far better, and on their tenth record, they’re back once again to thwack their guitars really hard while also putting together some of the lushest soundscapes and most rousing choruses you’ll hear all year.
The band’s greatest strength is an ability to cover multiple bases while always sounding unmistakably Deftones. Early on we’re hit with a pair of poppy, earworm cuts. “Ecdysis” boasts some Grimes-like synths and production that sounds like, bizarrely, Feeder at their best. The chugging riff brings Chino Moreno’s vocals to the fore as he barks and coos, giving a sense of depth that so many of their erstwhile contemporaries would seldom bother with. Then there’s “Infinite Source”, a bittersweet number with sugar spun vocals and guitars alongside downbeat lyrics. “The last ride we’re gonna take / A final wave and bow,” goes the refrain. They’re stirring and triumphant even in defeat, blending heaviness and heavenliness as well as anyone since Bob Mould.
For those who like their Deftones more sinister and
downright aggy, though, there’s plenty of that here, too. The all out
attack of “Locked Club”’s opening riff is a reminder of just how good
powerfully played, fat stringed guitars in daft tunings can sound.
There’s no great artistry to the approach here, no real trick – it’s
just Stephen Carpenter whacking an axe – probably one with more strings
than you might expect – with serious force. “Cut Hands” does the exact
opposite of Private Music’s sweeter moments, closing the walls
in altogether, foregoing tunefulness in favour of highly compressed
malevolence (Moreno sells creepiness better than almost any metal
vocalist, Exhibit A being Around The Fur’s shiver-inducing “Mascara”).
Even better is the pummelling-but-hook laden second single
“Milk Of The Madonna”. In an entirely complimentary sense, this is a
tune ready made to soundtrack sports montages for the next several
years. Mysteriously messianic lyrics aside – “Bloody rain floods these
streets / Came falling to the earth / Run away a thunder hangs above me
like an eye” – this is anthemic, swaggering stuff, and that pounding
guitar line on the chorus is enough to get anyone going.
Best of the bunch, though, might just be the record’s swooning, slowest, track, “I Think About You All The Time”. It sounds
like nothing less than a gorgeous, heart-on-sleeve love song, Moreno
giving all the emotion as he sings “Lay next to me, our theme plays and
we’re out of our minds / Singing all of my life we’ll never change / All
of our days, show me the way.” The chorus still gets big and heavy, of
course, but it’s all so sweet, so richly produced. It’s like a beautiful
and expensive Smashing Pumpkins track with the added bonus of not
having Bill Corgan’s vox on it.
The band has been so consistent for so long that it’s a
touch hard not to damn them with faint praise, but this is another in a
long line of very good Deftones LPs, and to that end, it’s well worth
anyone’s time.
