Monday, 4 February 2008

In the future it’s all good


I was sat about like a country gent this weekend reading The Observer and quaffing green tea when i read about the new Johnny Depp film about the life of John Dillinger. His legend is well known, bascially he was a total rudeboy bank robber with a massive cock and his name inspired one of the best ever tech metal bands The Dillinger Escape Plan.

Super G got his lips round the new album Ire Works and got all nostalgic in the process.

Shit, I was meant to sort my life out today – get a new phone contract, finish some course work, book some flights, get Sziget tickets, write an article for Dust and rebuild my bed – unfortunately, I got sucked into the future by Dillinger’s latest record.


Ire works just messed up my weekend – why are these squelchy Auechture beats, pop hooks and industrial tech guitars coming together so well here? I don’t understand where Ben gets his ideas from but here in the year 3000 everything makes total sense.

This record is dynamic and fluid yet has ultra-rich sonic viscosity. It has none of the claustrophobia and asphyxiating tension of earlier attempts at the DEP thing, and it plays through like a big tasty pick and mix of all your favourite Dillinger ideas, churned into a massive coke-laced strawberry milkshake wet-dream.

If you jumped ship at Miss Machine then you won’t like this. You didn’t like the new layers of electronica, melody and musical exploration on that record and you went back to masturbating over The Mullet Burden, yeah? In that case, do yourself a favour and get Rolo Tomassi’s new EP or get on some Dischordance Axis or Soilent Green -you’ll find all your grind needs satisfied without a single blue note in sight.

But getting back to the future; Dillinger have always been there and thank god Relapse have persevered with them. For the last decade they’ve been jetting off to distant galaxies and returning to the present day every now and then to give us a taste of what’s going on at the edge of the universe – it’s just that now, Weinmann and the gang have loosened up and have seemed to let this record happen without trying to smash everything up. It’s like they’ve completed their calculations of infinity and have started churning out all their workings-out like some malfunctioning super computer out of an early Aronofsky film.

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