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Concert Review: System of a Down
Reuters/Hollywood Reporter
April 25, 2005
By Tom Roland
LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - The disenfranchised have their own
franchise: It's called System of a Down.
Commemorating the 90th anniversary of the Armenian genocide, the Los
Angeles-based band held its third annual Souls concert Sunday at the
newly renamed Gibson Amphitheater.
Proceeds from the $45 tickets were slated for a variety of
organizations, including Amnesty International, the Darfur Action
Committee and Genocide-Project.org.
But this was not a feel-good benefit. It was an exorcism.
Blending Middle Eastern folk music in a heavy metal, rap-rock package,
SOAD basically aided its audience in channeling pent-up anger for 95
minutes.
"Everybody's coming to the party/Have a real good time," they chanted
in the opening "B.Y.O.B." -- a phrase that means "Bring your own
bombs" in SOAD-speak -- and the party ensued with fists in the air,
rambunctious dances through the aisles and more than one person crowd
surfing in the mosh pit. By the end of the show, the surfers would
include guitarist Daron Malakian.
The frenetic presentation found vocalist Serj Tankian operating as a
somewhat schizophrenic presence, leading the crowd through blistering
chants one moment, then segueing into a comically devilish voice in
the next.
Pulling not only from the band's past but also from its future -- SOAD
is releasing the much-anticipated "Mezmerize" album May 17 and the
related "Hypnotize" in the fall -- the material was laced with
rapid-fire anthems, machine-gun drumbeats and strange twists on the
rebellious genre.
Opera, disco and even George Michael's "Everything She Needs" were
blended weirdly into the stew, which skewered authority and the most
comfortable parts of culture with four-letter threats and guttural
intensity.
The audience was just as interesting as the band, dotted with walking
tattoo parlors, chemically altered students, mascara-wearing males and
one guy who had oddly matched camouflage shorts with emerald green
sneakers.
Of course, those bohemians had a hero to emulate, as Malakian -- whose
long locks and receding hairline slightly recall the Riff Raff
character in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" -- performed a goosestep
across the stage, twirled maniacally with his guitar and threw strange
"Mr. Roboto"-style voicebox shadings into the proceedings. Truly,
dweebs have their place in rock 'n' roll.
There's certainly a point to SOAD and its odd cartel of fans. Shouting
"Pull the tapeworm out of your ass" in "Needles," threatening sexy
people in "Kill Rock & Roll" and excoriating the police with the
mantra "They like to push the weak around" in "Deer Dance," SOAD gave
voice to the downtrodden.
System allowed the marginalized a chance to flaunt their contempt for
anyone who controls their lives, be it schoolyard bullies, negative
bosses, manipulative parents or arrogant political parties.
It was never pretty --in fact, the lyrics often devolved into
gibberish, and the melodies often were downright juvenile. But System
of a Down has harnessed the anger of an overlooked segment of America.
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/nm/20050426/review_nm/review_music_down_dc_1
Reuters/Hollywood Reporter
April 25, 2005
By Tom Roland
LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - The disenfranchised have their own
franchise: It's called System of a Down.
Commemorating the 90th anniversary of the Armenian genocide, the Los
Angeles-based band held its third annual Souls concert Sunday at the
newly renamed Gibson Amphitheater.
Proceeds from the $45 tickets were slated for a variety of
organizations, including Amnesty International, the Darfur Action
Committee and Genocide-Project.org.
But this was not a feel-good benefit. It was an exorcism.
Blending Middle Eastern folk music in a heavy metal, rap-rock package,
SOAD basically aided its audience in channeling pent-up anger for 95
minutes.
"Everybody's coming to the party/Have a real good time," they chanted
in the opening "B.Y.O.B." -- a phrase that means "Bring your own
bombs" in SOAD-speak -- and the party ensued with fists in the air,
rambunctious dances through the aisles and more than one person crowd
surfing in the mosh pit. By the end of the show, the surfers would
include guitarist Daron Malakian.
The frenetic presentation found vocalist Serj Tankian operating as a
somewhat schizophrenic presence, leading the crowd through blistering
chants one moment, then segueing into a comically devilish voice in
the next.
Pulling not only from the band's past but also from its future -- SOAD
is releasing the much-anticipated "Mezmerize" album May 17 and the
related "Hypnotize" in the fall -- the material was laced with
rapid-fire anthems, machine-gun drumbeats and strange twists on the
rebellious genre.
Opera, disco and even George Michael's "Everything She Needs" were
blended weirdly into the stew, which skewered authority and the most
comfortable parts of culture with four-letter threats and guttural
intensity.
The audience was just as interesting as the band, dotted with walking
tattoo parlors, chemically altered students, mascara-wearing males and
one guy who had oddly matched camouflage shorts with emerald green
sneakers.
Of course, those bohemians had a hero to emulate, as Malakian -- whose
long locks and receding hairline slightly recall the Riff Raff
character in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" -- performed a goosestep
across the stage, twirled maniacally with his guitar and threw strange
"Mr. Roboto"-style voicebox shadings into the proceedings. Truly,
dweebs have their place in rock 'n' roll.
There's certainly a point to SOAD and its odd cartel of fans. Shouting
"Pull the tapeworm out of your ass" in "Needles," threatening sexy
people in "Kill Rock & Roll" and excoriating the police with the
mantra "They like to push the weak around" in "Deer Dance," SOAD gave
voice to the downtrodden.
System allowed the marginalized a chance to flaunt their contempt for
anyone who controls their lives, be it schoolyard bullies, negative
bosses, manipulative parents or arrogant political parties.
It was never pretty --in fact, the lyrics often devolved into
gibberish, and the melodies often were downright juvenile. But System
of a Down has harnessed the anger of an overlooked segment of America.
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/nm/20050426/review_nm/review_music_down_dc_1