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Calgary Sun (Alberta)
September 20, 2005 Tuesday
FINAL EDITION
POWER PLAYERS
BY MIKE BELL, CALGARY SUN
Sometimes, to open a mind, you must use force. A hammer. A sack of
doorknobs. Or, in the case of Armenian-American rock act System of a
Down, a rhythm section plucked straight from a construction site and
a guitar you could carve a side of beef with.
All the better to cram into your cranium the band's socially and
politically charged material. And, as was the case last night at the
Saddledome in front of a crowd of 12,000 or so, all the better to put
on one of the best, one of the most intelligent and one of the most
memorable arena metal shows to come through this city in ages.
It was the antithesis -- some might say the antidote -- to this
year's double dose of Crue concerts.
System, like, say, Tool a couple of years ago, showed metal can be
heavy, loud and brutal enough to knock you senseless, while knocking
sense into you at the same time.
They showed you don't need contortionists and midgets when the music
and message are powerful enough in their own right. In fact, the bare
stage, simple lighting and lack of excess energy exuded in on-stage
antics was barely missed when you were bludgeoned with the throbbing,
relentless sonic attack of the quartet's superb musicianship.
Leading off with Soldier Side from behind a spotlit curtain and
B.Y.O.B from their latest album Mezmerize, SOAD offered a healthy
barrage of material from that album, their self-titled debut, even
their rarities album and most importantly, their career-making,
groundbreaking release, Toxicity.
Again, frontman Serj Tankian seemed, at times, to be going through
the metal motions, but his whisper-to-a-primal-scream more than made
up for it.
As did the rest of the band, who induced the crowd into a sea of
clap-happy moshers with their good-natured goading and semi-spastic
soloing, including a brief blood-letting from guitarist Daron
Malakian, prior to a blistering, yet oddly moving version of
Mezmerize's answer to the Bush administration's answer to Sept. 11,
Sad Statue. And then, later, a reworking of Dire Straits' Sultans of
Swing into a more personalized version.
It just kept coming -- the ferocity, the force and the filling for
that forcefully pried-open mind.
And they didn't insult their audience by coming on for a
predetermined encore -- they played long, they played loud and they
played smart.
Setting the challenging note for the rest of the show -- although
maybe setting the experimental bar a little too high -- were
Sacramento noise merchants Hella.
Watching their baffling, filling-rattling set, you couldn't help but
feel violated. The feedback-heavy structurally retarded sound orgy
was akin to being dropped inside an Escher print and beaten through
the confusion by a board with a nail in it.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I'm still not sure. Next up was
the psychedelic space odyssey of The Mars Volta.
Years ago, in the very same Saddledome, Sonic Youth opened for Neil
Young in one of the most polarizing warm-up performances I've ever
seen. Knowing Young's classic rock fans, it was easy to understand
the animosity and downright aggression directed at the NYC alt-rock
pioneers.
But last night, the venom directed by a little less than half the
audience towards the odd, but nonetheless accessible Floydian and
Hawkwindian soundscapes created by the brilliantly out-there outfit
was rather disappointing, especially considering the cannabis cumulus
hovering inside the 'Dome.
Musically and visually -- the light show and backdrop were fittingly
trippy and afroed frontman Cedric Bixler Zavala was an awe-inspiring
and entertaining cross between James Brown, Prince and Beck -- The
Mars Volta's brilliant hour-long experience was as high as you can
get while still being tethered to this Earth.
September 20, 2005 Tuesday
FINAL EDITION
POWER PLAYERS
BY MIKE BELL, CALGARY SUN
Sometimes, to open a mind, you must use force. A hammer. A sack of
doorknobs. Or, in the case of Armenian-American rock act System of a
Down, a rhythm section plucked straight from a construction site and
a guitar you could carve a side of beef with.
All the better to cram into your cranium the band's socially and
politically charged material. And, as was the case last night at the
Saddledome in front of a crowd of 12,000 or so, all the better to put
on one of the best, one of the most intelligent and one of the most
memorable arena metal shows to come through this city in ages.
It was the antithesis -- some might say the antidote -- to this
year's double dose of Crue concerts.
System, like, say, Tool a couple of years ago, showed metal can be
heavy, loud and brutal enough to knock you senseless, while knocking
sense into you at the same time.
They showed you don't need contortionists and midgets when the music
and message are powerful enough in their own right. In fact, the bare
stage, simple lighting and lack of excess energy exuded in on-stage
antics was barely missed when you were bludgeoned with the throbbing,
relentless sonic attack of the quartet's superb musicianship.
Leading off with Soldier Side from behind a spotlit curtain and
B.Y.O.B from their latest album Mezmerize, SOAD offered a healthy
barrage of material from that album, their self-titled debut, even
their rarities album and most importantly, their career-making,
groundbreaking release, Toxicity.
Again, frontman Serj Tankian seemed, at times, to be going through
the metal motions, but his whisper-to-a-primal-scream more than made
up for it.
As did the rest of the band, who induced the crowd into a sea of
clap-happy moshers with their good-natured goading and semi-spastic
soloing, including a brief blood-letting from guitarist Daron
Malakian, prior to a blistering, yet oddly moving version of
Mezmerize's answer to the Bush administration's answer to Sept. 11,
Sad Statue. And then, later, a reworking of Dire Straits' Sultans of
Swing into a more personalized version.
It just kept coming -- the ferocity, the force and the filling for
that forcefully pried-open mind.
And they didn't insult their audience by coming on for a
predetermined encore -- they played long, they played loud and they
played smart.
Setting the challenging note for the rest of the show -- although
maybe setting the experimental bar a little too high -- were
Sacramento noise merchants Hella.
Watching their baffling, filling-rattling set, you couldn't help but
feel violated. The feedback-heavy structurally retarded sound orgy
was akin to being dropped inside an Escher print and beaten through
the confusion by a board with a nail in it.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I'm still not sure. Next up was
the psychedelic space odyssey of The Mars Volta.
Years ago, in the very same Saddledome, Sonic Youth opened for Neil
Young in one of the most polarizing warm-up performances I've ever
seen. Knowing Young's classic rock fans, it was easy to understand
the animosity and downright aggression directed at the NYC alt-rock
pioneers.
But last night, the venom directed by a little less than half the
audience towards the odd, but nonetheless accessible Floydian and
Hawkwindian soundscapes created by the brilliantly out-there outfit
was rather disappointing, especially considering the cannabis cumulus
hovering inside the 'Dome.
Musically and visually -- the light show and backdrop were fittingly
trippy and afroed frontman Cedric Bixler Zavala was an awe-inspiring
and entertaining cross between James Brown, Prince and Beck -- The
Mars Volta's brilliant hour-long experience was as high as you can
get while still being tethered to this Earth.