Max Watts, Brisbane
Sunday October 22, 2017
Banannas! is the first non expletive that springs to mind when describing the Dillinger Escape Plan’s last show on Aussie soil. Having witnessed several of their tilts at festivals over the years I knew what to expect. One Soundwave, singer Greg Puciato scaled the mainstage truss as he taunted & hurled abuse at the crowd throwing all manner of projectiles at him. Another year I witnessed him hammer throw a microphone stand over the drummer’s head whom appeared oblivious to the very real possibility of his hospitalisation.
You know something special is afoot when in the first 2 mins of a show you find yourself pointing your lens at the singer crowd surfing as they scream a duet with willing punters. Soon thereafter we were being unceremoniously ushered from the pit by a undernourished beta seppo seemingly a song too soon and clearly invested in our collective departure (guess who was soon zipping around the stage with a camera..)
‘Dillinger’ are not a band I’d listen to everyday, most of their earlier stuff is frankly without melodic respite and largely unintelligible vocally. That said ‘Milk Lizard’ is one of the best songs of the last decade or so, & you can throw ‘One of us is the killer’ onto that list while youre at it. Unlike most brutal acts their unmistakable edge has not dulled with time. Further I cannot think of a better live show for sheer intensity, volume and spectacle.
As the band rolled through a selection of old & new to delight the mathcore crew whilst appeasing the lightweights more progressively inclined (myself included), the lads strut, thrust, spasm, lunge, hurl, spin, leap and scream across the stage with a chaotic precision that somehow by in large sees them avoid collisions of any real concern, no mean feat as 3 guitars flail about apparently without any real warning of when and where. All the while Greg roars, seethes and spits his disdain for unseen demons, commanding the crowd with an enigmatic righteousness and violent fantasia.
What made the experience even sweeter was dragging along a rookie who had virtually zero experience of live rock n roll, the sheer amazement on her face was at times as entertaining as the show knowing that up until that evening, ‘doofs’ were the extent of her exposure to ‘live’ entertainment. When as the encore tapered, drummer Billy Rymer launched himself into the crowd complete with crash cymbal attached to the stand smashing it with a stick as he travelled across the adoring throng (many of whom determined to souvenir said Zildijan). I instantly noted this was a phenomenon I was yet to witness…’crowd drumming’.
All too soon the chaos was over as a drained and dripping band gestured graciously toward a still maniacal crowd chanting for more, I glanced around surprised to see tears streaming down one girls face, clearly moved by the prospect & promise of the moment’s finality. Expressive brilliance still saturating the room as reality washed over the faces of the faithful perplexed as palpably mixed emotions hung in the air.
Reviewer and Photographer : Quenched