Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
Deftones coming to London – for a giant sold out Crystal Palace headliner, no less – should have sparked hype from every one of us. Instead, worry arcs between us as we’re shuffled through the sun-bleached Victorian palisades. Deftones cancelled their Glastonbury appearance at short notice less than twenty four hours before, and we’re relying on Instagram promises and Reddit conferring to reassure us that they’ll show today. As we’d discover our worries were unfounded, blasted away by the sheer experience of finally witnessing Deftones on such a huge scale.
High Vis slap on the modern hardcore to get us ready, their echoing (it’s when you wanna do more) the magnet for the wilting crowd. Vocalist Graham Sale claims they’re “just a dickhead punk band”, adding “anyone can do this, it’s just shouting and moaning, innit,” but perhaps that’s what makes them shine so brightly. They could be us, spitting out ‘Mind’s A Lie’ like a premonition of a night out and letting the guitar waft like a much needed breeze over us. His near death experience makes ‘Trauma Bonds’ into a song launched with fervour that flies with its own wings, his new found optimism lending us strength.
A booming rush occurs and then Weezer appear, heralded by a chanted, garage take on ‘Hash Pipe’. They’re keeping their raw style that they threw out at Download Festival and it works for them, allowing the introverted sincerity they hold dear to shine through like they’re musically panning for gold. ‘Dope Nose’ is the finest skater nostalgia, but with a sense of efficient stagecraft, a teenage favourite remastered in front of us. The aching, cartoony quality which Weezer have spread over all of their sound feels too small for the huge stage, and too big to be contained at the same time. ‘Undone’ germinates into a fan anthem, uniting teenagers who got their parents permission to go to the second day of Download and folk who remember this song when it came out in one joyful bounce, and there will never be a time that ‘Island In The Sun’ can’t cast a golden blanket across a huge crowd like this one. For a few moments, everything in the world feels alright as Weezer play ‘Holiday’, pausing for a vocal harmony moment that’s blown away by distortion before they lurch into the joyful simplicity of ‘Beverly Hills’. It’s unintentionally hilarious to hear Rivers Cuomo compare South London to the splendour of LA, but that’s all just part of their awkward charm. As ‘Say It Ain’t So’ draws our song from inside us, it becomes clear that it’s impossible to ignore Weezer’s resurgence.
Before we’ve realised it, shadows have grown across the gravel and the graphic displaying the headlining band is about to be replaced with reality. Black and white smoke, a casual “hey,” and we’re into ‘Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)’: bombastic and mysterious, it’s a hell of an opening salvo. Straight into a poisonous groove, ‘My Own Summer (Shove It)’ feels raw and spontaneous, the offbeat guitar plucking unnerving. The only respite is for a call for both hands up before frontman Chino Moreno’s barely caged meltdown. Each musical layer is exposed in turn on ‘Diamond Eyes’, sometimes only a lonely electronic pulsing propping up his vocals until a tempo like floating underwater bubbles into a rhythm you can feel in your internal organs.
The beauty of Deftones’ set is how they play with time, sending one bar meandering as if it’s drifting out to sea before another song that passes in a flash. This is not a show about the band either; it’s entirely a place set aside in space to let their music grow organically. Moreno barely speaks, his occasional chatter limited to observations like “beautiful, fucking beautiful, Sunday afternoon”, but that’s not because he doesn’t want to engage with us. He’s just a bit part in his music’s massive presence and for a show with a five figure attendance, so much of their set feels private which summons whispered, individual song from each of us. From a hypnotic ‘Swerve City’ we’re thrown into the grit and grace of ‘Feiticiera’, all chainsaw riffs with a tempo that flows like a rocky river, the ending word of each line of the chorus dropped like a bomb. As ‘Digital Battle’ expands out to focus on the isolated bridge that echoes like a dropped pebble, the crowd inexplicably begins to wander away. There will be a slow waterfall of people emptying from this point onwards, but their anxiety over train times results in a more intimate set for the rest of us as ‘Rocket Skates’ sets the tone boiling again, the backing vocals a haunted siren. Both the songs where they let loose and when they allow the music to coil slowly hold so much splendour, ‘Sextape’ beaming waves of emotion into the setting sun.
‘Change (In The House Of Flies)’ was always going to be a part of this set, and with the band highlighted in stark red against the darkening trees, it smoulders. As one, our phones are up and our chests are back, screaming out the lyrics as a release until a squeal of delight almost drowns out the cloaking fuzz of ‘Genesis’. Delicate and devastating in its scope, ‘Minerva’ connects with so many who gaze and mouth the words in time. After an hour of being immersed into Deftones’ world, ‘7 Words’ feels like a release, a lava punch to jolt us back to the reality of nervously being shuffled towards the exits. Our concerns were valid, but Deftones came through for us with a show that felt like a portal into a world where the laws of narrative, physics and the upper limit for distortion were made to be broken. We’re left shaken and invigorated by a band whose life of experimentation and passion have culminated in a show that has plunged us into an otherworldly version of rock music, and we’re already hungry for more.
KATE ALLVEY
High Vis slap on the modern hardcore to get us ready, their echoing (it’s when you wanna do more) the magnet for the wilting crowd. Vocalist Graham Sale claims they’re “just a dickhead punk band”, adding “anyone can do this, it’s just shouting and moaning, innit,” but perhaps that’s what makes them shine so brightly. They could be us, spitting out ‘Mind’s A Lie’ like a premonition of a night out and letting the guitar waft like a much needed breeze over us. His near death experience makes ‘Trauma Bonds’ into a song launched with fervour that flies with its own wings, his new found optimism lending us strength.
A booming rush occurs and then Weezer appear, heralded by a chanted, garage take on ‘Hash Pipe’. They’re keeping their raw style that they threw out at Download Festival and it works for them, allowing the introverted sincerity they hold dear to shine through like they’re musically panning for gold. ‘Dope Nose’ is the finest skater nostalgia, but with a sense of efficient stagecraft, a teenage favourite remastered in front of us. The aching, cartoony quality which Weezer have spread over all of their sound feels too small for the huge stage, and too big to be contained at the same time. ‘Undone’ germinates into a fan anthem, uniting teenagers who got their parents permission to go to the second day of Download and folk who remember this song when it came out in one joyful bounce, and there will never be a time that ‘Island In The Sun’ can’t cast a golden blanket across a huge crowd like this one. For a few moments, everything in the world feels alright as Weezer play ‘Holiday’, pausing for a vocal harmony moment that’s blown away by distortion before they lurch into the joyful simplicity of ‘Beverly Hills’. It’s unintentionally hilarious to hear Rivers Cuomo compare South London to the splendour of LA, but that’s all just part of their awkward charm. As ‘Say It Ain’t So’ draws our song from inside us, it becomes clear that it’s impossible to ignore Weezer’s resurgence.
Before we’ve realised it, shadows have grown across the gravel and the graphic displaying the headlining band is about to be replaced with reality. Black and white smoke, a casual “hey,” and we’re into ‘Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)’: bombastic and mysterious, it’s a hell of an opening salvo. Straight into a poisonous groove, ‘My Own Summer (Shove It)’ feels raw and spontaneous, the offbeat guitar plucking unnerving. The only respite is for a call for both hands up before frontman Chino Moreno’s barely caged meltdown. Each musical layer is exposed in turn on ‘Diamond Eyes’, sometimes only a lonely electronic pulsing propping up his vocals until a tempo like floating underwater bubbles into a rhythm you can feel in your internal organs.
The beauty of Deftones’ set is how they play with time, sending one bar meandering as if it’s drifting out to sea before another song that passes in a flash. This is not a show about the band either; it’s entirely a place set aside in space to let their music grow organically. Moreno barely speaks, his occasional chatter limited to observations like “beautiful, fucking beautiful, Sunday afternoon”, but that’s not because he doesn’t want to engage with us. He’s just a bit part in his music’s massive presence and for a show with a five figure attendance, so much of their set feels private which summons whispered, individual song from each of us. From a hypnotic ‘Swerve City’ we’re thrown into the grit and grace of ‘Feiticiera’, all chainsaw riffs with a tempo that flows like a rocky river, the ending word of each line of the chorus dropped like a bomb. As ‘Digital Battle’ expands out to focus on the isolated bridge that echoes like a dropped pebble, the crowd inexplicably begins to wander away. There will be a slow waterfall of people emptying from this point onwards, but their anxiety over train times results in a more intimate set for the rest of us as ‘Rocket Skates’ sets the tone boiling again, the backing vocals a haunted siren. Both the songs where they let loose and when they allow the music to coil slowly hold so much splendour, ‘Sextape’ beaming waves of emotion into the setting sun.
‘Change (In The House Of Flies)’ was always going to be a part of this set, and with the band highlighted in stark red against the darkening trees, it smoulders. As one, our phones are up and our chests are back, screaming out the lyrics as a release until a squeal of delight almost drowns out the cloaking fuzz of ‘Genesis’. Delicate and devastating in its scope, ‘Minerva’ connects with so many who gaze and mouth the words in time. After an hour of being immersed into Deftones’ world, ‘7 Words’ feels like a release, a lava punch to jolt us back to the reality of nervously being shuffled towards the exits. Our concerns were valid, but Deftones came through for us with a show that felt like a portal into a world where the laws of narrative, physics and the upper limit for distortion were made to be broken. We’re left shaken and invigorated by a band whose life of experimentation and passion have culminated in a show that has plunged us into an otherworldly version of rock music, and we’re already hungry for more.
KATE ALLVEY