A brutal and out-of-control noise machine...
Scientifically, of course, Deftones are pivotal to the completion of rock’s evolutionary cycle. Being in possession of robotic bass-drenched riffs with enough repetitive clout to frazzle intestines, they are mapping out rock’s future. Specifically, they replicate all the great things house music did for the world, taking the focus away from the artists belly and towards the tremble in the collective crowd’s belly. And because of the good works of Deftones and innumerable bands like them, guitars are about to fill expansive skies and fields, bigness will replace smallness, and pills will replace powders as rock’n’roll’s drug of choice. It will be a magnificent future.
In the here and now, however, Deftones are simply a brutal and out-of-control noise machine, feasting on raw meat with the royalty who gather around metal’s high table. Which means that the prospect of seeing them packing their swarms into Rock City the week before they take Wembley is a gift that makes us wet (and not just from the sweat).
Anti-frontman he may be, but Chino Moreno knows the power that he and his team of piledrivers can invoke, and he refuses to release Nottingham from his sweaty grasp, climbing up on the barriers at the second song, and – metaphorically at least – never coming down. To add to the sense of occasion, they wheel out old favourites like ‘Bored’, ‘Lifter’ and ‘Around The Fur’; sounding as revolutionary even now as ’Change (In The House Of Flies)’ and ‘Minerva’ sound grandly neo-classical.
Deftones always shudder the foundations of the buildings they play in. But here, the sheer denseness of the sound seeps through Rock City’s cracks and crevices, seeming to mark it indelibly. They’ll need some pretty thick bleach to shift this.