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FESTIVE VIBE DOMINATES SYSTEM OF A DOWN SHOW
By JASON BRACELIN
Las Vegas Review Journal
05-24-2011
They cut rugs over the kinds of things that might lead others to
cut wrists.
Mass murder, government oppression, environmental degradation, blind
consumerism: "Everybody dance!"
So instructed System of a Down guitarist Daron Malakian at The Pearl
at the Palms on Sunday, not that he needed to voice the command like
a benevolent, hippie drill sergeant.
Much of the exultant, capacity crowd already were shaking their stuff
to stuff that normally causes folks to shake their fists in protest.
Case in point: "P.L.U.C.K.," which stands for "Politically Lying,
Unholy Cowardly Killers," which System tore into like a bull burying
its horns into a slow-footed matador.
The song is about the genocide of 1.5 million Armenians at the hands
of the Turkish empire in 1915.
Considering the band members' Armenian heritage, the tune is a personal
one, and it's a fitting enough encapsulation of a band that's difficult
to encapsulate: The song began with death growls and staccato thrash
riffing that came on like heavy artillery fire before segueing to a
slinky guitar shimmy that sounded like something that Police guitarist
Andy Summers may have penned.
Even when the band it at its most fierce, System still underscores all
its considerable vehemence with a loose-limbed swing that distinguishes
the band from virtually all its peers .
Such was the case at The Pearl, where a festive vibe dominated the
band's first tour in five years.
Malakian spun himself in dizzy circles as singer Serj Tankian danced
with his hands above his head in uninhibited fashion in a button-down
white collared shirt, looking like the office square finally cutting
loose after one too many vodka tonics.
With his elastic, cartoon character of a voice, Tankian alternately
sounded like Satan gargling with battery acid, an opera singer with
Tourette's, a banshee getting drawn and quartered and a carnival
barker mainlining Red Bull.
He harmonized well with Malakian, whose voice frequently escalated
to a wild-eyed whelp equally suggestive of both great ecstasy and
dire agony.
Combined with the band's herky jerky rhythms and jittery,
overcaffeinated thrust, it formed a decidedly different approach
to heaviness: There was plenty of density in System's turgid guitar
crunch, but the band stayed light on its feet with exotic melodies
and a spirited buoyancy.
As such, System kept things perpetually off-kilter, alternating
absurdist tantrums ("Sugar," "Psycho"), where Tankian sounded as if
he's speaking in (forked) tongues, with more reflective, mournful
elegies ("Soldier Side," "Lonely Day"), hurtling from songs about
cocaine-addled groupies to ripostes on the military industrial
complex .
Through it all, they continually deflated, and occasionally poked
fun of, the machismo that has long been synonymous with heavy metal -
and dudes in general.
The song "Cigaro," for instance, began with Malakian making
tongue-in-cheek boasts about the impressive girth and mobility of
his manhood.
Onstage, Malakian and Tankian's movements were graceful,
almost effeminate at times, and their repertoire, while rife
with its share of fire and brimstone, was also characterized by
stop-and-smell-the-flowers New Age platitudes.
"When you lose small mind you free your life," Tankian sang on a
stirring "Aerials."
Guess size does matter, after all.
Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com
or 702-383-0476.
2011 The Associated Press.
By JASON BRACELIN
Las Vegas Review Journal
05-24-2011
They cut rugs over the kinds of things that might lead others to
cut wrists.
Mass murder, government oppression, environmental degradation, blind
consumerism: "Everybody dance!"
So instructed System of a Down guitarist Daron Malakian at The Pearl
at the Palms on Sunday, not that he needed to voice the command like
a benevolent, hippie drill sergeant.
Much of the exultant, capacity crowd already were shaking their stuff
to stuff that normally causes folks to shake their fists in protest.
Case in point: "P.L.U.C.K.," which stands for "Politically Lying,
Unholy Cowardly Killers," which System tore into like a bull burying
its horns into a slow-footed matador.
The song is about the genocide of 1.5 million Armenians at the hands
of the Turkish empire in 1915.
Considering the band members' Armenian heritage, the tune is a personal
one, and it's a fitting enough encapsulation of a band that's difficult
to encapsulate: The song began with death growls and staccato thrash
riffing that came on like heavy artillery fire before segueing to a
slinky guitar shimmy that sounded like something that Police guitarist
Andy Summers may have penned.
Even when the band it at its most fierce, System still underscores all
its considerable vehemence with a loose-limbed swing that distinguishes
the band from virtually all its peers .
Such was the case at The Pearl, where a festive vibe dominated the
band's first tour in five years.
Malakian spun himself in dizzy circles as singer Serj Tankian danced
with his hands above his head in uninhibited fashion in a button-down
white collared shirt, looking like the office square finally cutting
loose after one too many vodka tonics.
With his elastic, cartoon character of a voice, Tankian alternately
sounded like Satan gargling with battery acid, an opera singer with
Tourette's, a banshee getting drawn and quartered and a carnival
barker mainlining Red Bull.
He harmonized well with Malakian, whose voice frequently escalated
to a wild-eyed whelp equally suggestive of both great ecstasy and
dire agony.
Combined with the band's herky jerky rhythms and jittery,
overcaffeinated thrust, it formed a decidedly different approach
to heaviness: There was plenty of density in System's turgid guitar
crunch, but the band stayed light on its feet with exotic melodies
and a spirited buoyancy.
As such, System kept things perpetually off-kilter, alternating
absurdist tantrums ("Sugar," "Psycho"), where Tankian sounded as if
he's speaking in (forked) tongues, with more reflective, mournful
elegies ("Soldier Side," "Lonely Day"), hurtling from songs about
cocaine-addled groupies to ripostes on the military industrial
complex .
Through it all, they continually deflated, and occasionally poked
fun of, the machismo that has long been synonymous with heavy metal -
and dudes in general.
The song "Cigaro," for instance, began with Malakian making
tongue-in-cheek boasts about the impressive girth and mobility of
his manhood.
Onstage, Malakian and Tankian's movements were graceful,
almost effeminate at times, and their repertoire, while rife
with its share of fire and brimstone, was also characterized by
stop-and-smell-the-flowers New Age platitudes.
"When you lose small mind you free your life," Tankian sang on a
stirring "Aerials."
Guess size does matter, after all.
Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com
or 702-383-0476.
2011 The Associated Press.