The Dillinger Escape Plan | ‘Option Paralysis’

You’re not safe. If the DEP have had one agenda in their fourteen year long career, it’s been to inform you, politely or otherwise, that by being complicit in this artist/audience relationship, you will be confronted; an expectation is placed on you.

Listening to or witnessing the DEP is not intended as a passive forty minutes spent. It’s not television. Though the audience experience is separate from that of the artist, at least we’re invited to contribute to and participate in the violence.

With them, it’s a two-way thing. And despite their role in developing complex, confrontational and abrasive hardcore/metal (it’s a small enough scene, globally; not everyone can play this shit), the approach adopted remains that of having everything to prove.

They cannot be seen to let up – ever – for dropping to a lower gear would constitute a compromise and would surely signify the collapse of thus far held artistic value. No. One listen to Option Paralysis will affirm that every dial remains in the far red. Hmm. Like you had to ask.

Beyond. Beyond is the word. Every aspect herein resides in an outer extremity, be it the memory test fusillade of barely repeating note sequence, the reality-challenging drum performance (see ‘Crystal Morning’) or Greg Puciato’s general lyrical wrongness.

‘Gold Teeth On A Bum’ spirals outwards from a sickening Melvins lurch; ‘Room Full Of Eyes’ is all attack. The record pivots on ‘Widower’, a six minute piano-led saga seemingly of loss and regret. The command wielded over whichever fleeting reference point they turn their attention to begs acknowledgment, akin as it is to, say, that of Faith No More on their peerless ‘King For A Day’ album.

This is sonic architecture. Throughout, a paradox of frenzied abandon and total precision is maintained. This is a piece of work not so much written as it has been carved out of ice; chipped and crafted until its delicate, complicated form is exposed and exhibited. Here, a screaming guitar solo is just audible. Elsewhere you’ll detect smartly dropped, unanticipated blips of ear candy, pleasingly adding to the attention paid to detail. Detail. Forget about it.

If you do decide to part with your pennies, be kind to yourself and opt for the ‘unabridged’ digi edition. Aside from the fittingly lunatic packaging, the final track included works as a semi-soothing rider to the chaos preceding.

4.8 / 5 - Philip Donnelly ::: 25/03/10