...won't put you off your stroke during a three way with dildos and whips...
One thing people never mention is how Deftones make great music to have orgies to. Indeed, earlier this year, the last album ‘White Pony’ provided the soundtrack to one of the most enjoyable and exciting evenings of this writer’s life.
Although they often get lumped in with dreadful nu-metal acts like Korn or Limp Bizkit, Deftones are actually one of America’s most dynamic and creative modern rock groups. Sure, they may use a lot of the same one-note, downtuned riffs as the aforementioned dimwits, but Deftones also employ cunning devices like ‘taste’, ‘melody’ and ’emotion’ to pepper their songs.
Despite their name (which has always made them sound like a No Doubt-tribute act) the ‘Tones have always made consistently engaging and aesthetically-acceptable records. For example, their crossover hit ‘Back To School’ definitely falls into the ‘rap metal’ genre, but it’s still actually a 100 per cent great song. Hey indie guy! Yes you. Even YOU, with your embarrassing hair and womanly walk, YOU are allowed to like the Deftones. Hush now. Stop crying you little bitch. It’s going to be OK.
So, this is the Sacramento five-piece’s fourth studio album and it’s another winner. It builds on the sexy, nihilistic vibes of ‘White Pony’ but this time it sounds like the Pony’s being sexually abused in the basement of an Albanian-gangster-run whorehouse in Soho (thanks to amazingly lax British immigration policy, there are now hundreds of such establishments, should you wish to visit one).
While the basic Tones sound is still pretty much the same as before – big guitars, brutal riffs giving way to mournful, melodic Smashing Pumpkins bits and then huge choruses – Chino Moreno’s singing and screaming and lyrics are more deranged and bla-zow and whaaat-the-fuuck than at any point in the band’s career (can anybody tell me what ‘You blaze.. out like a sharp machine.. like a whale’s moan’ fucking means??!! ‘Aria’).
It’s all good then, and especially so when you consider the dreadfully safe, depressingly comfortable state of American rock music right now – 1960s retro blues rock rules indie while Good Charlotte and Avril Lavigne are sold to you as punk rock – then you have to thank Deftones for having the skills to making a modern, commercially-viable, carefully crafted rock record that also sounds violent, deranged and desperately, incurably sad all at the same time. And – most importantly – won’t put you off your stroke during a three way with dildos and whips.