By which I mean: Nothing, like
all Meshuggah’s stuff, is first and foremost rhythmic. Meshuggah
is in possession of perhaps the ultimate recipe for headbanging: it
involves beats that change up on a nickel every couple of minutes,
cool jazz chords filtered through so much distortion that their inherently
mellow nature gets not lost but forcibly altered so that what you’re
left with is both audibly beautiful and palpably hostile, on-rhythm
raw-throat vocals that somehow come off as authentic instead of tired
and formulaic, and -- for me this is key -- the harshest, most
gorgeous crash-cymbal sound in all rock music.
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