Live
Sometimes when a great band has released their first two albums it seems that they can do no wrong. Just think of Nirvana after Nevermind, or Oasis after (What's The Story) Morning Glory? - likewise, the Foo Fighters were a storming proposition in 1997. System Of A Down are currently riding a similar wave. Their sophomore effort, last year's towering Toxicity, has helped elevate them to rock's premier league, leading to a sold-out UK tour including three nights at Brixton Academy.
System's stage is simple, free of the rotating drumkits and effects favoured by the likes of Slipknot. Despite, or perhaps because of this simplicity, they are visually mesmerising, each band member contributing to the spectacle. Guitarist Daron Malakian's clerical collar gives a tongue-in-cheek twist to his wild-eyed intensity; pirouetting and stalking the stage from the moment the staccato thrash of opener 'Prison Song' kicks in, he and tall, bald bassist Shavo are the perfect counterparts for singer Serj as he alternates between bouncy aggression and soulful crooning, the centre of attention.
And that, really, is the problem tonight; Serj's singing does so much to define System's sound, but tonight it sounds like he's coming from another room. An appalling PA mix robs the band of much-needed balance and vital sheer volume. It's a shame, because the performance is otherwise stunning. 'War', 'Toxicity', and the climactic 'Sugar' are fantastic, and by the time they leave the stage, it's clear that there can be no encore; all their best material has been played with confidence. It's the passionate delivery that makes it all worthwhile; the extent to which the band's political stance is understood may be doubtful, but the earnestness of the chant of "fuck the system" is unquestionable, as is the enthusiasm of both band and performance for every crunching riff and every lung-stretching scream. Sometimes, it takes more than an incompetent soundman to stop a great band; and everyone ought to give thanks for that.
Full marks to Mr Duck, suddenly an industro-goth-rock-pop spectacular of epic proportions, but it's Meanwhile, Back In Communist Russia...'s triumphant return which packs out the Zodiac tonight. Of the new material, the beautifully-named 'Roses For Her' rises on a sea of stormy keyboard - difficult, gorgeous and, in vocalist Emily's evasive "do we really have to go out tonight?", particularly reminiscent of Arab Strap. 'Heatstroke' is a chilling but self-aware portent; a delicate 'Anatomies' is fleshed out by exquisitely sensual keyboard. Behind the dizzying front - 'Delay-Decay-Attack's disorientating sensory assault, a vicious 'Morning After Pill' - stands the slogan "Operation: Enduring Freedom". It's a sharp reminder that even the freedom briefly captured in this confessional flood of cataclysmic noise, the delirium found in its sheer brilliance, is inevitably tempered by the frustrations and obsession inherent in the fetishistic excesses of extreme fandom: the realisation that observing perfection allows only the disappointment of failure, the knowledge that they comprise everything out of your reach. Locked into this band, watching the smoke clear - silhouettes cut in lime light, Emily at her most beautiful - it's evident that MBICR are one of the great bands. "Incredible," breathes a former cynic, wide-eyed. They may just change your life.
25th Apr 2002