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Dillinger Escape Plan - February 15, 2008 - The Village, Dublin, IR

By: Ken McGrath

The Dillinger Escape Plan are nut-jobs, there’s no two ways around it. Live they’re an unpredictable bunch of lunatics who refuse to be confined by the regular limits of the stage. They’re on the stacks, in the crowd, bouncing off the speakers or flying through the air from the monitors, instruments spinning, all without so much as a glance at each other. It’s no wonder they’re always suffering from injuries and no matter where you look, eyes darting everywhere, you’re witnessing something intense and crazy, while no doubt missing something else equally or more insane off to the other side. Somehow managing to remain perfectly in time. The utterly confused looking security guy standing stage right has certainly never seen anything like it before. Or else maybe he’s just wondering how they make such a gloriously, anti-harmonious noise.

With new boys Jeff Tuttle (guitar) and Gil Sharone (drums) firmly in place now that their out on the road their an unstoppable, rolling, pandemonium machine that looks like it’s going to leave Dublin flattened.

Vocalist Greg Puciato may have a sore throat but you’d never notice. Running around with a seemingly inexhaustible amount of energy he barks, croons, roars and, in the case of “When Good Dogs Do Bad Things,” scats his way across the top of the mostly technical math-metal, occasionally, possibly more straightforward (“Black Bubblegum”) songs, chaos, whatever you want to call it. Diving into the audience he seems intent on doing as much damage as he can to everything in general. A ripping version of “45% Burnt” two songs in sees the audience go absolutely ape-shit as they try to out do Dillinger in terms of creating havoc.

New album Ire Works gets a good amount of showing off, but without over-doing it and certainly not at the expense of the back catalogue. “Fix Your Face” and “Lurch” roll one after the other, their harsh riffs showing Dillinger certainly haven’t forgotten how to write a face-peeling, finger-tearing, mind-melt like some people would have you believe.

That said even the slightly more melodic tunes, like “Milk Lizard” offer no respite, they’re just a little easier to chant along to it seems. Touching down across almost every stop along their career so far you’ve got “The Mullet Burden” and “Sugar Coated Sour” snuggling up nastily to “Baby’s First Coffin” and “Black Bubblegum.” Bassist Liam Wilson stands centre stage, looking real proud of being the anchor that somehow, along with Gil Sharone, is holding this whole thing together. Then it’s off again as Greg launches himself into the crowd. Ben Weinman climbs onto the stacks, which have flashing LEDs in them by the way, and look like demented gambling machines being attacked by too much electricity. Jeff Tuttle’s on the speaker stage right and things crash to a glorious conclusion. An utterly baffling, exhilarating experience that you’re going to hear people raving about for a long time to come. One of the best and no doubt about it.


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