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LA Weekly
May 27-June 2 2005
A Considerable Town
Mezmerized
by PAUL ROGERS
Diana Hernandez is nursing a nasty sunburn. `That's the sacrifice you
make for a band like System,' she says, shrugging. Hernandez, 17, is
in line outside Best Buy's giant Burbank outlet for an in-store
appearance by art-metal über-band System of a Down. She arrived at
5:30 a.m. for the band's 7 p.m. show. `I've had 14 hours to think
about it,' she says, `but I still don't know what I'm going to say to
them.'
Celebrity in-stores are curious rituals: Fans wait for hours not to
see their heroes perform, or even really to talk (beyond cursory
chat), but just to be. It's as if that briefest press of an idol's
flesh will open a superchannel to their art thereafter.
System of a Down have sufficient commercial clout, after three
platinum-plus albums, to hold the launch for their new album,
Mezmerize, almost anywhere. They chose a bland Burbank shopping
complex over Times Square or Tokyo because, as one of the few
full-blown rock-star acts who were actually raised and formed in
L.A., they wanted to recognize their local following.
There was an added undertone of expectation to this event, because
when System tried a similar stunt for the release of their 2001
Toxicity disc - a free outdoor concert in Hollywood - more than
triple the expected 3,000 fans showed up, the fire marshal pulled the
plug, and members of the crowd went berserk, stealing all of the
band's equipment before riot police prevailed.
But tonight the perhaps 2,000-strong crowd - principally teens and
20-somethings in black T-shirts and jeans - are the image of excited
restraint. Teetering along the thin line between admirable, pitiful
and downright psychotic devotion comes Orlando Salas, a 22-year-old
mechanic and musician who's traveled from his native Peru for the
event. `System rocks! It's the best!' says Orlando, before offering
the real explanation for making the 8,000-mile-plus roundtrip: `Daron
[Malakian] is a genius!'
Thing is, Malakian is a fucking genius. He's the principal creative
force behind his band's bizarrely entrancing
exotic/outraged/brutal/funny/politicized metal mongrel, which, with
Mezmerize (and sister disc Hypnotize, due in the fall), has reached
its illogical, harmony-heavy, genre-ending zenith. Emerging with his
bandmates from Best Buy's backrooms, the diminutive guitarist - a
reclusive figure more comfortable shredding on arena stages than
walking down the street - is wide-eyed, and laboring under a bizarre,
monklike Middle-earth haircut.
The whoops gather strength as the remaining three Systems appear:
vocalist Serj Tankian, looking like he just got through teaching
contemporary pottery at the local community college, with his Robert
Plant ringlets and Mona Lisa smile; bassist Shavo Odadjian, recently
re-styled as the Armenian Huggy Bear, complete with CHIPs shades,
blue hoody and shady stoop; and upright, mustachioed drummer John
Dolmayan, the big brother that every kid would want on his side.
The signing session is for the most part routine: All manner of items
- from violins and skateboards to foreheads and cleavage - are
cordially marked by the band, seated at a long table, as a podium of
photographers jostle for angles. What isn't routine is the number of
guitars offered for autographing - maybe one in 20 fans carries one.
`This is my first guitar, and I'm going to get it signed,' enthuses
Chris Bennett, a 19-year-old Palmdale musician who's been queuing
since midnight, black Stratocaster in hand. `I promise not to put it
on eBay!'
And that's it: System's music triggers active, sympathetic expression
in others, and, while a million paintbrushes may not yield a Picasso,
if just one of these ax-wielding youngsters blossoms into another
Malakian, then their generation too will have a means to transcend
artless, gutless career-rock.
May 27-June 2 2005
A Considerable Town
Mezmerized
by PAUL ROGERS
Diana Hernandez is nursing a nasty sunburn. `That's the sacrifice you
make for a band like System,' she says, shrugging. Hernandez, 17, is
in line outside Best Buy's giant Burbank outlet for an in-store
appearance by art-metal über-band System of a Down. She arrived at
5:30 a.m. for the band's 7 p.m. show. `I've had 14 hours to think
about it,' she says, `but I still don't know what I'm going to say to
them.'
Celebrity in-stores are curious rituals: Fans wait for hours not to
see their heroes perform, or even really to talk (beyond cursory
chat), but just to be. It's as if that briefest press of an idol's
flesh will open a superchannel to their art thereafter.
System of a Down have sufficient commercial clout, after three
platinum-plus albums, to hold the launch for their new album,
Mezmerize, almost anywhere. They chose a bland Burbank shopping
complex over Times Square or Tokyo because, as one of the few
full-blown rock-star acts who were actually raised and formed in
L.A., they wanted to recognize their local following.
There was an added undertone of expectation to this event, because
when System tried a similar stunt for the release of their 2001
Toxicity disc - a free outdoor concert in Hollywood - more than
triple the expected 3,000 fans showed up, the fire marshal pulled the
plug, and members of the crowd went berserk, stealing all of the
band's equipment before riot police prevailed.
But tonight the perhaps 2,000-strong crowd - principally teens and
20-somethings in black T-shirts and jeans - are the image of excited
restraint. Teetering along the thin line between admirable, pitiful
and downright psychotic devotion comes Orlando Salas, a 22-year-old
mechanic and musician who's traveled from his native Peru for the
event. `System rocks! It's the best!' says Orlando, before offering
the real explanation for making the 8,000-mile-plus roundtrip: `Daron
[Malakian] is a genius!'
Thing is, Malakian is a fucking genius. He's the principal creative
force behind his band's bizarrely entrancing
exotic/outraged/brutal/funny/politicized metal mongrel, which, with
Mezmerize (and sister disc Hypnotize, due in the fall), has reached
its illogical, harmony-heavy, genre-ending zenith. Emerging with his
bandmates from Best Buy's backrooms, the diminutive guitarist - a
reclusive figure more comfortable shredding on arena stages than
walking down the street - is wide-eyed, and laboring under a bizarre,
monklike Middle-earth haircut.
The whoops gather strength as the remaining three Systems appear:
vocalist Serj Tankian, looking like he just got through teaching
contemporary pottery at the local community college, with his Robert
Plant ringlets and Mona Lisa smile; bassist Shavo Odadjian, recently
re-styled as the Armenian Huggy Bear, complete with CHIPs shades,
blue hoody and shady stoop; and upright, mustachioed drummer John
Dolmayan, the big brother that every kid would want on his side.
The signing session is for the most part routine: All manner of items
- from violins and skateboards to foreheads and cleavage - are
cordially marked by the band, seated at a long table, as a podium of
photographers jostle for angles. What isn't routine is the number of
guitars offered for autographing - maybe one in 20 fans carries one.
`This is my first guitar, and I'm going to get it signed,' enthuses
Chris Bennett, a 19-year-old Palmdale musician who's been queuing
since midnight, black Stratocaster in hand. `I promise not to put it
on eBay!'
And that's it: System's music triggers active, sympathetic expression
in others, and, while a million paintbrushes may not yield a Picasso,
if just one of these ax-wielding youngsters blossoms into another
Malakian, then their generation too will have a means to transcend
artless, gutless career-rock.