THE NEW ZEALAND HERALD
For the unconverted, the Deftones' music comes across as sleepy and laboured rock that needs a good slap around to wake it up. It has a lot to do with singer and guitarist Chino Moreno's unique swooning voice and asthmatic scream. And the music is often dreamy and stoned, with long outbursts of pummelling and oppressive heaviness. They are puzzling to some, but fans love it.
Saturday Night Wrist is more of the same but there's something wide awake and inspirational about it compared to their last, self-titled, album. While there's nothing as striking and special as Digital Bath or (Change) In the House Of Flies, from 2000's White Pony (a pinnacle this band will find hard to beat), Saturday Night Wrist is an album you keep going back to. It's beautiful, but broken up by the bleeps and squelches of Pink Cellphone, noisy tracks like the chaotic thud of Rapture, and the demented discord of Rats!Rats!Rats!, a song that does the rodent population proud. If the Deftones can breed a few more songs like that then we're in trouble.
On the beautiful side, swooning melodics make Hole In the Earth the perfect album opener, and Cherry Waves is a delicious slice of eerie epic rock, and one of the best Deftones tracks to date.
Label: Maverick
Verdict: Californian five-piece give us a wake-up call on fifth album.
(4 / 5)
THE NEW YORKER
In the late eighties, two teen-age skateboarders, Camilo (Chino) Moreno and Stephen Carpenter, met in Sacramento and began talking about music. Carpenter, who liked aggressive heavy metal, had been hit by a drunk driver while skateboarding and had bought an elaborate guitar rig with money he won as a settlement. Moreno was a fan of the morose British band Depeche Mode and the Washington, D.C., hard-core punk pioneer Bad Brains. Eventually, he joined Carpenter’s new band, Deftones, as the lead singer. (The name is a pun on “def,” a term of approbation in hip-hop, and “tone deaf.”)
When Deftones’ first album, “Adrenaline,” was released, in 1995, the group was described as part of an emerging genre called “nu metal,” which also included the bands Korn (with whom Deftones toured), Limp Bizkit, and, several years later, the extremely popular Linkin Park. These groups took pride in playing well and shared a fondness for expensive equipment and the distorted guitar sounds of eighties metal bands like Metallica and Slayer. They also tended to equate music-making with catharsis, whether their lyrics dealt with child abuse (Korn), bitterness (Limp Bizkit), or cryptic epiphanies about life and death (Deftones).
Deftones are as loud and aggressive as any other nu-metal band, but stranger. Much of their music is built from resonant, glowing major chords, but the band rarely creates beauty without sabotaging it. Within a single song, the music will shift from invitingly soft harmonic passages—say, Moreno’s delicate moaning layered over Carpenter’s cloudy guitar—to clipped, repetitive motifs punctuated by hoarse barking and shrieking. (Moreno’s lyrics, when you can discern them through the fantastic din, are oblique. The words to what seems to be the chorus of “Street Carp,” one of the band’s loveliest and most acoustically punishing songs, are “Well, here’s my new address: 664 . . . oh, I forget. There’s your evidence; now take it home and run with it.”) The only predictable element in a Deftones song is the precise drumming of Abe Cunningham, a powerful musician who provides a sense of order. One of the chief pleasures of listening to the music is the suspense it creates: in every song, there is the imminent possibility that chaos will get the upper hand.
In 2003, I listened almost daily to “Minerva,” from “Deftones,” the band’s fourth album. It begins with Moreno playing a high, tentative phrase on his guitar. This figure is then obliterated by what could be one, two, or fifteen chords—the space between notes has become imperceptible. The music is distorted in such a way that you can hear many harmonic overtones on top of the original notes. It’s a lot for the ears to process, like the sound of seven people talking on a party line. A minute or so later, the chords change, and Moreno sings an intelligible line: “And God bless you all, for the song you saved us.” It’s as if he were talking to the song itself, thanking all the notes whizzing around him.
Listening to “Minerva,” or to any of Deftones’ best songs, is a bit like driving through a snowstorm: you lose your bearings, and it’s both scary and delightful. (One day, I was playing “Minerva” on my headphones while walking in SoHo and failed to notice a small crane swinging a load of Sheetrock across the sidewalk. I felt a wind at my back and turned to see several thousand pounds of plaster sail into a doorway, inches from my head. Deftones had blocked out the world.) The band’s ability to overwhelm the senses makes its music satisfying, but that may also be what prevents the group from scoring hits. In 1999, the video for “Change (In the House of Flies)” was played constantly on MTV, but none of the band’s singles have entered the Billboard Hot 100.
Most big pop singles consist of simple phrases, set to fully realized melodies and accompanied by identifiable instruments. In a way, Deftones’ songs aren’t songs at all but, rather, gloriously textured backdrops of sound that establish a sense of heightened emotion. The band’s most recent albums, last year’s “B-Sides and Rarities” and the brand-new “Saturday Night Wrist,” provide ample evidence of this foggy sound’s versatility. “B-Sides” seems to have been designed to discourage fans who like the band merely because it is frequently raucous: it features covers of the Smiths, the British practitioners of regal self-pity; the Cocteau Twins, who made gauzy rock so impenetrable that many of their lyrics have yet to be deciphered; the Southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd, whose only apparent link to Deftones is that it sings in English; and “No Ordinary Love,” by Sade, the R. & B. crooner. Deftones take weird bits of these songs and make them sound like natural pieces of their repertoire. The arrangement for “No Ordinary Love” is especially clever: the band thickens the original bass and drum parts, and Moreno, singing in falsetto, highlights the sense of betrayal in Sade’s words (“Didn’t I tell you what I believe? Did somebody say that a love like that won’t last?”). The band creates the impression that it has always been as restrained and subtle as Sade; volume had simply obscured the fact.
On “Saturday Night Wrist,” the band returns to the exultant mood of “Deftones,” its near-perfect fourth album. The first single, “Hole in the Earth,” is a miniature apocalypse, alternating between billowing rapture and fearsome pounding. It begins with a few seconds of awkward feedback. Then the band lays into a burly riff, custom-built for head-banging. But suddenly that ends, and the song turns into a nimble waltz, progressing through gorgeous, arpeggiated phrases. Moreno’s lyrics, delivered slowly in his caramel tenor, do not settle on a single theme. (“Can you explain to me how you’re so evil, how?” he sings at one point, and later, “I hate all of my friends, they all lack taste sometimes.”)
“Mein” is another satisfying combination of supple, almost submissive vocals and hard, unforgiving rhythm. Cunningham plays a rolling drum pattern, and, when an extra beat is added to a bar in the chorus, holds the band to the time signature, like a crossing guard ushering children to the curb. Moreno is in a dreamy frame of mind. “I’ve looked outside, but I never wandered out,” he sings, drawing out each word. The song performs a neat trick: although Moreno sings at a narcotic pace, the music sounds as though it were speeding up—an illusion produced by the subtle change in rhythm. (On other songs, Deftones make a point of showing that they can still be bumptious. “Pink Cellphone,” for example, starts as a vague, ambient track and ends with a woman reciting—perhaps on a pink cell phone—a monologue about anal sex and British teeth.)
At Deftones’ last show in New York City, at the Hammerstein Ballroom in 2003, the band, led by Moreno, played with unwavering intensity for close to two hours. Moreno is a man of average size who often dresses in the modest uniform of Californian skaters: Dickies pants, a short-sleeved work shirt, and Converse sneakers. With his black hair and small beard, Moreno, who is thirty-three, looks like someone who’s stranded between boyhood and adulthood. He sang many of the prettier passages with his head craning upward and his eyes closed. During the songs’ convulsive moments—such as in “Street Carp,” when he repeats “So write it down now, did you get it? Get it?” eight times—Moreno hunched over, as if he were retching into the microphone. He didn’t let up until the show was over.
THE SOUTH END
Like an unrelenting neurosis, “Saturday Night Wrist,” the long-awaited EP from the The deftones, tirelessly haunts and stealthily seduces its listeners. With each plead and moan from lead singer Chino Moreno, the message becomes clearer: The deftones will remain ferocious and will never sell out.
In fact, with “Saturday Night Wrist,” the Deftones have left little room for improvement, as the album displays their exponential growth and musical maturity. “Saturday Night Wrist” maintains all the intensity and emotion that previously defined the Deftones’ sound, yet it introduces a heightened aural landscape of austere hostility, which in some ways is more grim and sinister than their preceding albums.
In “Saturday Night Wrist,” Moreno, famous for his dark lyrics coupled with hypnotically pleasing melodies, plunges the listener into a spellbinding pool of paralyzing waters, while guitarist Steph Carpenter fortifies all speculation that he is indeed a guitar virtuoso. Each riff from Carpenter sweetly supplements Moreno’s voice, creating a flawlessly harmonious partnership.
The track “Pink Cellphone” displays Moreno’s love for Depeche Mode and Faith No More and goes into a surprisingly synthesized direction. The end of the track is perhaps the best part as you are given no fair warning for the verbal assault that ensues. Tracks like “Hole in the Earth” and “Cherry Waves” smoothly reel the listener in with catchy, contagious melodies and bittersweet subject matter. “Beware,” however, is the Deftones in their purest form and sounds like a harrowing sequel to much of their “White Pony” EP.
“Saturday Night Wrist” welcomes dedicated fans as well as newcomers, as it is easy to listen to, never harsh on the ears and simply musically astounding.
Soundtrack for: Breaking stuff or writing love poems
Pod Picks: “Beware,” “Mein” and “KimDracula”
Robyn Vincent
(4 / 4)
BEAT MAGAZINE - AUSTRALIA
Saturday Night Wrist, eh? I have to say that when I first heard the leaked title, I was instantly intrigued. Apparently, it's the name of a medical condition 'created' by over-eager physicians in New York. Ahem. The album propels itself into the stratosphere from the very outset, with the crunching riff of single Ho/e In the Earth, that makes way for the tormented angel - vocalist Chino Moreno - who makes you believe there is no hope in sight - and it feels sublime. You're sinking, but it's somehow cathartic.
Nothing breaks a fall like a punch in the face, and deftones realise this, as they introduce you to Rapture. This track could have easily been from Adrenaline, but rather like its futuristic bastard son. Beware The Water is trademark deftones sludge, but once again it is the emotion in Moreno's sultry delivery that clinches this song. It is so personal, infact, that it makes the listener believe that this record was written for them. Mein wastes no time in getting down to business, with another frantic Stephen Carpenter riff quietly eroded by the lushness of the vocal. Point of interest for many fans, here, would be the inclusion of System Of A Down's Serj Tankian, who chimes in halfway through. Quite unexpectedly, he's not maniacally ranting, but rather attempting to sound ominously other-worldly as he chants "The universe...breaking us down". Whilst it does work ...just, my advice to Serj is leave lushness to the master, Moreno himself.
After such a roller-coaster ride, the mid-point of this album would be the ideal place for their first ever instrumental track - and that's exactly what they did. And more to the point, it's exquisite. Frank 'ambi-engineer' Delgado more than makes up for the lack of Moreno - ebbing and flowing - as he provides the ideal segue into the most blistering attack on the senses yet seen from this quintet.
Rats!Rats!Rats! is surety the most frenetic, brutal, and downright heavy song deftones have ever pulled out. And it is a total standout. Whilst Cheng (bass), Cunningham (drums) and Carpenter and are going hammer-and-tongs, Moreno has channelled the devil himself, demanding that we "Decide! Is this it? Is it? Decide!" As you stumble and pant, he swoons you with a
chorus hook that will careen through your subconscious and leave you breathless.
Kimdracula soothes the soul: it's like the dream you wish would never end, but when it does you still appreciate the glimpse.
What sets this apart from the previous deftones records is the sheer immensity of its breadth and vision. There is so much ground covered here that one can see why it took three years to write and record. You literally feel the tension between Chino Moreno and his guitarist Stephen Carpenter - who nearly parted ways several times during the whole process - yet you realise that this was the near end they had to have, in order to complete the resurrection. The crisis before the calm. Not quite serendipity, but more serenity from utter chaos. I'm talking to you.
Saturday Night Wrist is the product of five masters of their craft, simultaneously honing in on the one goal: to create their most challenging, yet most accessible record to date, absorbing all the previous deftones 'moods', and advancing further than even their most die-hard fan could envisage. It's an album that is an instant classic, the sound of a machine functioning beyond its optimum to create a career-defining, exhilarating ride that will inspire a generation of musicians. Music can be this good. And that's why you're reading this.
ESTEBAN CROOKE
THE PRP
As with any Deftones album, the recording process behind it remains self-destructive. However, the list of casualties incurred during the recording of "Saturday Night Wrist" is severe - even for Deftones standards. A butting of heads with the albums original producer Bob Ezrin saw them leave the studio; an alleged lack of motivation nearly saw band frontman Chino Moreno kicked out of the band; and you can bet that the trademark Carpenter vs. Moreno feuds were also in full effect.
So what does all this tension and strife amount to when captured on recording equipment? Well for starters, it seems like an odd mixture of two of the bands previous outings. The strain and uneasiness that sees ideas mildly stilted, plus the sharp nature of some tracks, recalls their last self-titled affair. But the liberal usage of dreamy soundscapes and focused experimentation give a nod to the "White Pony" days.
There are coarse jagged riffs and screams on occasion, but they are often buried underneath the abstract melodies and slow, lingering build-up's that anchor nearly each track. There really isn't that much in the way of rage on this album as much as there is a pleasantly numbing melodrama that, while on par for the mutated new wave the Deftones have championed, can at times feel lackluster in delivery.
A slow plodding beast, "Saturday Night Wrist" is packed with songs flush with depth, yet they rarely provide a clear vision of the ideas behind them. In that sense it's somewhat frustrating as it almost feels like the dense instrumentation and drawn-out build-up's are merely a cover-up for writer's block in certain places.
The guest appearance from System Of A Down frontman Serj Tankian on the track "Mein" is nearly transparent, while the skeletal electronics and throwaway lyrics of "Pink Cellphone" (featuring Annie Hardy talking about hot carls and more) falls flat as the albums biggest mistake. But even it isn't enough to derail the majesty this rare band who credibly escaped the nu-metal collapse are once again able to conjure up.
(4 / 5)
ROLLING STONE
This Cali quintet was the artiest of the new-metal bands, honing a savage and spaced-out guitar-and-keyboard attack that got dense as hell on 2003's Deftones. Saturday Night Wrist is slightly cleaned-up, but it's as dark as the Deftones have ever gotten, with sludgy stoner-rock bumping against prog-metal chops and scorched-earth atmospherics. It's a weird blend of viscerally shaking (hopped-up slashers like "The Earth"), artfully alluring ("Beware," which has cricket sound effects) and unfocused oblivion ("Cherry Waves"). Tool and Korn are prime reference points, but another one is more surprising: Radiohead. "Mein," an industrial banger with swooshy space-rock overlays, finds Tarzan-like yowler Chino Moreno doing a credible Thom Yorke. The songwriting never quite comes together, but this is a metal record that gets by as much on sonic tricks as monster riffs.
RS: 3.5 of 5 Stars
Average User Rating: 4.5 of 5 Stars
THE CAVALIER DAILY
It has almost become a music cliché to talk of how conflict within a band leads to exemplary music. If this is the case, fans of Deftones should rejoice. Saturday Night Wrist has finally arrived after a year of delays and numerous rumors of the band's near demise at the hands of recording pressures.
The album mirrors the conflict within the group in the constant push-and-pull between vocalist Chino Moreno and the rest of the band. Where the guitars and drum work suggest an equally ferocious response from the vocals, Moreno remains reserved, choosing to croon where most frontmen would scream. Similarly, jagged riffs are placed next to equally dense, dreamy passages to create a decidedly disorienting effect.
While still relying on the soft/loud dynamics that have become a staple of alternative metal, Deftones have continued the expansion of their horizons. Starting with 2000's White Pony they have added disparate elements of electronica, goth and hardcore to their musical palette. On Saturday Night Wrist, the band manages to wear their influences well, whether it's the straight-up metal found in the hard-hitting "Rapture" and "Rats!Rats!Rats!" or the synth-heavy electronica on "Pink Cellphone."
Deftones have little in common with their contemporaries; their style has always been closer to the shoegaze of My Bloody Valentine than the funk metal of Korn. For instance, cuts such as "Beware" and "Xerces" utilize layers of distorted guitars coupled with ethereal and at times incomprehensible vocals to create a lush, haunting atmosphere.
Moreno's voice works not simply as a mouthpiece for each song's dark, cryptic lyrics, but also as a fifth instrument that complements the band's diverse soundscapes. His lyrics often have little meaning in and of themselves; words coalesce to express incongruent feelings of loss, frustration and happiness.
Moreno even delves into new territory on the political "Combat," which surprisingly presents the album's most straightforward lyrics: "This time the finger's pointed right at you / Whose side are you on, whose side are you on?"
The album's only low point comes on "Pink Cellphone," where guest vocalist Annie Hardy's nonsensical, scatological ramblings add little to the song's glitchy beat. Fortunately, Serj Tankian (System of a Down) single-handedly redeems the band's decision to include guest vocals. He makes a noteworthy appearance on "Mein," complementing Moreno's mournful howling with his distinctive baritone.
The most noticeable difference between Saturday Night Wrist and Deftones' previous work is not the loss of the muscular guitar work, but rather the subtle demise of the devil-may-care attitude. The songs on Saturday Night Wrist are more structured. While the band might be comfortable with this format, their tightness has come at the expense of the energy and relentless innovation that permeated their last two albums, White Pony and Deftones.
It's not that Deftones don't push; it's that they don't push far enough. A chorus here, a bridge there -- they all glimmer with the possibility of a musical awakening -- but these expectations are rarely met in the form of a truly radical sonic experience that listeners have come to expect from Deftones.
LIVE DAILY
It may have taken five albums and the better part of a decade, but the Deftones (music)' most significant obstacle may have finally evolved into their most engaging attribute.
Where the band's previous efforts have been bogged down by heady ambition that at times translated into tedious monotony, "Saturday Night Wrist" embraces the group's array of disparate influences, allowing each to play its natural role. The results are alluring and intriguing, from the opening hum and dissident clamor of "Hole in the Earth," through the blood-warm, mind-numbing trickle of closing track "Riviere."
"Rapture" and "Rats!Rats!Rats!" may glimmer with a metallic underbelly and deadbolt a Helmet-like din to frontman Chino Moreno's manic vocals, but there are as many disarming moments that flutter to the forefront, notably in the eerie drizzle of "Beware" and the robust ebb and flow of "Cherry Waves." Granted, the nonsensical and profane detour that closes "Pink Cellphone" is unnerving, marring an otherwise standout trip-hop duet with Giant Drag's Annie Hardy, but the essence of the 12-track album remains otherwise intact throughout, populating an emotionally jarring landscape reminiscent of Dead Can Dance or Massive Attack with heavy-handed strokes of metallic brimstone.
While "Saturday Night Wrist" will likely prove too abstract for the mainstream success that many feel is overdue the Deftones, and the material may be a tad overwhelming to some casual fans, the album's legacy should long outlive its commercial relevance. The Deftones have finally transcended the genre-lines that had previously constrained them, and the results are spectacular.
CD TIMES
So it begins with a hush of feedback, lulling you into some kind of security before the wall of guitars thrash through the haze followed by a yell of excitement. This is how Saturday Night Wrist, the fifth album by the Deftones, begins with Hole In The Earth. A rapturous mix of heavy riffs, wistful guitars and ambient feedback. Those listeners expecting the rest of the album to continue like this, however, will be sorely disappointed. This is the Deftones most ambitious and cohesive work to date and matches White Pony in its vision and execution.
Rapture is an hulking beast of a song, lurching around Chino Moreno's fractured, screaming vocals, there's something sinister about it's foreboding rhythm section and hacksaw riffs. Beware is another shift in character, a slow burning mood song, reminding me of mid-period Nine Inch Nails with it's simple drone guitars and delicate sections of piano and feedback. Clocking in at 6 minutes, it ebbs and flows between ambient passages and heavy guitar riffs in equal measures as Moreno's echoing vocals pierce through the music.
This is a record brimming with ideas and executes them with a precision rarely seen by metal bands. They've taken a few cues from Tool with their intricately arranged songs, there's not always thrash or heavy riff songs, there's more delicate elements interwoven into them. That's not to say they've completely removed the aggression, Rats! Rats! Rats! is is a manic thrash of crashing riffs and screaming vocals. There’s also a moment of post-rock excellence as well, U, U, D, D, L, R, L, R, A, B, Select, Start is a instrumental with echoing guitars and drums, slowly shifting around a brooding rhythm section.
However, there is one absolute howler on here with Pink Cellphone. I'm not entirely sure what it's all about, but it has someone who sounds like a beach bimbo recount some seedy exploits involving anal sex and hand jobs. It just doesn't quite sit with the rest of the album, the musical backdrop is too delicate and uninvolving. Rumours are abound of it's removal from the official release due to it's content.
Don't let this put you off though, this is why the "skip" button was designed for. This is such an exceptional album that it needs to be listened to and appreciated - this should eclipse every other alt-metal album released this year. It's dark, sinister, heavy and full of moments that make you realise how great metal, and music in general, can be.
score: 8 out of 10
NIAGARA GAZETTE
A man whose taste I admire once said about Miles Davis’ “Bitches Brew” that he didn’t hate the father, just his children.
The Deftones may have inspired just as many imitators as Davis’ late-1960s jazz-rock experiments, and it’s just as hard to remember the daring ingenuity that got things rolling — in this case, putting Chino Moreno’s hushed, ethereal singing over serious metal material back in the mid-1990’s.
The band is nothing if not restless, however, and their latest disc is proof-positive that ideas are what keep an original from being overtaken by their derivatives.
Try “Beware,” with its surprising (as in surprisingly well-executed) shifts between delicate contemplation, air-guitar-inducing thrash breaks, extended melody experiments and just plain freak-out pauses on guitar. That’s just one song, mind you, and it feels fully formed even at nearly seven minutes.
The beat-driven “Pink Cellphone” stands out for its relative lack of momentum, but the devoted have already been posting about that for weeks. Skip any other track, and you’re missing out on quite a bit. 3 1/2 stars
CINEMA BLEND
The Deftones are a band best listened to loudly. Whether it’s the screaming vocals or growling bass, their intricate melodies really are best experienced at a volume where one can distinguish their seemingly muddled sound from their profound metal roots.
While not being nearly as crisp or edgy as their acclaimed White Pony, Saturday Night Wrist gives the band more leeway to experiment. They sacrifice guitar shredding for emphasis on percussion; as a result, it’s not as sharp, nor as actively engaging as some of their previous efforts. It’s a mesh. They toy with pleasantly controlled sounds (the fantastically titled and synth-oriented “U, U, D, D, L, R, L, R, A, B, Select, Start”) as well as their more common harsh one (“Rapture”). And, at first, it doesn’t all quite fit.
Then the last few tracks kick in, and they clear things up. “Pink Cellphone” sounds like a twisted Beck spell, while “Rats! Rats! Rats!” rings of a more classic metal style. The album does work together—in part due to its extremes—but more importantly, because of their ability to combine both intensities so cleanly into one song.
“Combat” is perhaps the best example of this: the song starts off with a mellow riff, building up slowly but surely until the rapidity of the drums change the style altogether. It grows into one of the most rewarding tracks on the album as lead singer Chino Moreno switches between harsh and melodic vocal styles instantaneously.
But this synergy falls apart, albeit not nearly as often as it succeeds. “Hole In the Earth” is their deadwood opener, both lyrically and musically: “I hate all of my friends/ They all attack sometimes/ There’s a hole in the earth, I’m out/ There’s a hole in the earth, let's take a bow.”
By the end, Wrist reveals its certain poetic progression—each track is better than its predecessor, ultimately climaxing with “Rivière”, a medley of acoustic guitar and smooth techno that puts a pleasantly unique stamp on the album, while summing it all up: it may not always work, but when it does, it works wonders.
WASHINGTON CITYPAPER
The video for “Hole in the Earth,” the new single by the Deftones, has been kicking around for a few weeks, and it says a lot about what’s happened to the band in recent years. Frontman Chino Moreno still dresses in that familiar skater/metalhead/cholo way—all in black except for some hiked-up athletic socks and a white long-sleeve shirt poking out from under his T-shirt. His Vandyke beard is still a little scraggly, his hair still as dark as shoe polish.
The images are post-Matrix sci-fi: Earth dissolves into a black hole, pixel by pixel, as the band rocks somewhere between techie-metal stomp and new-wave melody. The striking thing is Moreno’s face. Age has added a few pounds, and he looks unexpectedly soft, as if he’s been sheltering himself somewhere.
The truth is probably pretty close to that. Team Sleep—Moreno’s relatively arty beats-and-moods side project—has been his true labor of love for the past couple of years. The group’s 2005 eponymous debut gave him a chance to explore his Radiohead jones, and somehow he credibly remade himself as a studio geek with an indie streak. There were guitars, sure, but they seemed optional. So much for the Family Values Tour aesthetic—this stuff was all grown up.
And Moreno obviously came back as a different guy. The official story is that when the Deftones wanted to complete Saturday Night Wrist, their fifth full-fledged album, Moreno had to patch things up with his bandmates after ditching the recording process to, as the press release reads, “fulfill a touring obligation with another band.” He also 86’d the original producer (Bob Ezrin) and brought in another (Shaun Lopez) to guide him through. The results are exactly what you might expect: The disc definitely displays the smarts, the juice, and the range that have put the Deftones in a different orbit from the rest of the nü-metal fleet. It’s already being hailed as a return to the experimental vibe that made 2000’s White Pony a revelation in an era when it seemed the mooks had run amok. And Moreno’s skills as a vocal stylist—he’s a master of jetting from nasal tones into feral barks—haven’t diminished one bit. But he sounds like a pro doing his thing, not an artist finding his groove.
That wasn’t the case on 2003’s Deftones, which crunched the moody sounds of White Pony into crazier, tighter spaces. The opening track—the earthquake-quality, hardcore-influenced “Hexagram”—is probably Exhibit A in the debate over why the Deftones mattered and colleagues such as, say, Disturbed, didn’t. And “Minerva”—the atmospheric, surprisingly sensuous single—thoroughly washed away any idea that the band was incapable of subtlety. On those tracks and others, Moreno sounded fully invested, as if the vocals sprung spontaneously from within—and were tied to something real.
Saturday Night Wrist almost gets there, but the songs are sometimes more overdone than inspired, especially when all heck is breaking loose. “Rapture,” for instance, showcases guitarist Stephen Carpenter’s uncanny ability to reconstitute any number of alt-rock influences (this time it’s In Utero–era Nirvana and Isn’t Anything–era My Bloody Valentine) while still rooting his riffs in metal. It’s exhilarating, but Moreno seems to be keeping up rather than driving the chaos. Ditto for “Rats!Rats!Rats!” and “Combat,” which serve up similar caustic tones. All three songs, incidentally, are about Moreno’s part in contentious relationships.
To be fair, the disc has a three-song stretch where everything comes together, but some interesting compromises are required to keep Moreno on top of the tunes. “Beware,” “Cherry Waves,” and “Mein” are heavy with well-produced hooks, and none of them require him to resort to his patented screech. And all three are from the perspective of someone caught in the push-and-pull of another person’s appeal. Things either haven’t failed yet (“If you should sink down beneath/I’ll swim down/Would you? Is this what you want?” Moreno sings on “Cherry Waves”) or can’t possibly happen (“I’d like to pull it into me and intercept you in between, but I never wandered in,” he sings on “Mein.”) Perhaps the only nü-metal yelper with more art-cred than Moreno—System of a Down vocalist Serj Tankian—does a baritone cameo on “Mein,” punctuating the idea that the song doesn’t have to be abused to make its point. Later on, the synth-heavy “Xerces” probes the same nerves.
Those who see White Pony as the band’s creative zenith probably will embrace the more unexpected moments on Saturday Night Wrist, but they’re nothing but risky filler. The noodly “u, u, d, d, l, r, l, r, a, b, select, start,” named after an all-powerful cheat code on old-school Konami video games, could easily slide onto the back end of a math-rock or hipster-metal album, but here it’s merely an intermission with Team Sleep overtones. And “Pink Cellphone,” featuring bizarro come-hither vocals by Giant Drag’s Annie Hardy, is a thumping midtempo electronic number that digresses from psychobabble (“That seductive pure that offered relief and comfort without disturbing the faulty system of your beliefs”) into a pointless riff about blowjobs, uncircumcised penises, and butt sex. The most obvious sonic antecedent? U2’s “Numb.” ’Nuff said. White Pony didn’t have to try that hard.
Those less-than-prudent decisions prove that these Deftones have gone—in a few short years—from being a band that was locked-in and purposeful to being an enterprise that unexpectedly had to rediscover and redefine its best assets. Some clumsiness was inevitable. Saturday Night Wrist—a slang term for a chronic dead-nerve medical condition that can result from sleeping on an arm the wrong way—is no disaster, but it definitely shows what happens when a talented frontman decides that it’s time to assuage his own boredom. The effort of getting on task again is never a seamless process. It’s a job, for sure. But what fun is that for the rest of us?
BELFAST TELEGRAPH
In the world of rap thrash metal, Deftones are a blistering tour de force. The California band have been blowing away the proverbial cobwebs since 1989. Latest album, Saturday Night Wrist is their sixth and best since stunning debut, Adrenaline. Once again, Chino Moreno's unique wailing vocals dominate songs all delivered with tongue-in-cheek brilliance.
Saturday Night Wrist is a juggernaut riffathon with songs that are pumped up to stadium size. But among the snarling almost unworldly collage of noise and the trademark unbridled sonic savagery are a couple of brilliantly haunting tracks ? Beware and the almost Shoegazer-like Cherry Waves.
Deftones have always had a crossover musical appeal. For the best part they deliver a noise fest, a la Sepultra or Metallica, but equally they are able to produce some breathtakingly dynamic moments that defy genre pigeon-holing.
Last album, Deftones, was a superb return to form - but the new album takes their music to a whole new level of quality. Whereas the 2003 self-titled record was a lesson in brutal electrifying force, this time round the group have shown they can easily mix the heavy with light.
Deftones are no one-trick pony!
score: 4 out of 5
MONSTERS AND CRITICS
For most of 'Saturday Night Wrist,' Deftones contentedly let their instruments wander, inventing a meandering soundscape that broods in near darkness. The instrumental "Interlude" personifies the record: soothing yet disquieting, and it`s curiously anchored with animated drumming by Abe Cunningham.
Lead single "Hole in the Earth" comes off like a more muscular Coldplay, whereas "FM" could be Incubus immersed in chaos. Chino Moreno`s vocals sometimes mimic Bono and Robert Smith, before he descends into screaming for the harried "Rats," which finally kicks up the album`s tempo eight tracks into the game.
"Pink Cellphone" makes you think its sultry female spoken-word piece is leading toward some kind of enlightenment, until she launches into a bizarre sexual rambling that can`t be repeated here. But then again, this is Deftones` world. We just listen to it.
JAM! SHOWBIZ
A little tension can be a good thing in a relationship -- and sometimes, a lot can be even better. It seems to work for Deftones, anyhow.
The creation of their fifth CD Saturday Night Wrist was reportedly fraught with internecine turmoil -- false starts, multiple producers (including the notoriously demanding Bob Ezrin), and even the defection of frontman Chino Moreno during proceedings. After all that, it's remarkable they managed to finish this CD.
What's even more remarkable is how powerful and coherent most of Saturday Night Wrist manages to be. Booting up with the noisy guitar squall that kicks off Hole in the Earth, the band rages and wails through 51 minutes of ambitious alt-metal that balances art and aggression.
Aside from a few grand moments, Ezrin's heavy hand isn't overly evident in this dozen-song set, which is divided between grandly pummeling Pumpkins-style shriek-rockers like Rapture, Mein, Combat or Rats!Rats!Rats!, and swirly Cure-inspired gloomscapes like Beware, Riviere and Xerces.
There are a couple of missteps -- notably the sophomoric techno ditty Pink Telephone. And Moreno's lyrical obsession with entropy and escape ("This is the end ... I'm out;" "I'll be waving goodbye;" "You're holding me down") leaves you wondering if the band's days are numbered.
Even if this marriage can't be saved, though, at least Deftones went down swinging -- and swinging for the fences.
score: 4 out of 5
THE MANEATER
I am getting old. Increased body hair, a decreased tolerance for hard liquor and my penchant for napping all point to this piteous state. Even worse, the music I fully embraced and identified with at the advent of angst and melodrama (see puberty) is changing with me.
The Deftones, a band that exploded into the metal scene with a distinct and unique approach to fist-pumping and self-flagellation in the mid-’90s have seemingly cooled down since their seminal White Pony release in 2000. ‘Tones fans were met with an anticlimactic, self-titled follow up album in 2003 that even the band has recently dismissed as a product of laziness. Yet despite a waning fan base and increasing waistlines, the Deftones’ new release, Saturday Night Wrist, totes signs of both progress and renewal in just more than 50 minutes of play time.
The Deftones have proved that they’re rock-savvy with an album that sounds as slick as it looks. Their unconventional sound rings a resounding bell, and like all of the previous works, Saturday Night Wrist is a mélange of hardcore punk tempos, metal-core grooves and post-rock dissonance mixed and blended exceptionally for even the most paltry of headphones.
The music is still the focal point. Deftones have one of the most solid and innovative metal drummers in Abe Cunningham, whose off beat bass drum and involving snare fills shame the 4/4 beater monkeys of other straight to radio rock projects. The oddly dissonant melodies of guitarist Stephen Carpenter and the driving (yet by no means conforming) lines from bassist Chi Cheng complement each other and create a disharmonious sound that cannot be recreated by even the most adept of garage bands.
Lead singer/screecher Chino Moreno experiments more with his hall-mark vocal contortions and along with the electronics of Frank Delgado, adds an eerie ambience that reaches a dark-pop sensibility on tracks such as “Beware” and “Cherry Waves.”
The new album might ruffle some feathers in their fans’ collective flock, with a work that borders more on melodic than menacing. Though the band brings the jarring minor key changes and odd time signature leaps in tracks like “Mein” (featuring System of a Down’s Serj Tankian) and “Rats!Rats!Rats!” (a smarter version of their Grammy winning “Elite”) the album resonates with a more pensive and reserved rhythm.
The ‘Tones first instrumental track, coupled with the eerily trip-hop addition of “Pink Cellphone” that reeks of Aphex Twin, all point to a band at a crossroads in both style and salience; the poster boys of late-90s Nu-metal are now walking the line between head-banging riffs and slow motion, ecstasy ridden trances.
Saturday Night Wrist should be taken as a sign of new things to come. The band’s transformation to melody and elements of electronica is proof of a band embracing change and the future — can the future handle a more polished, sad yet less disturbing auditory onslaught? I hope so; otherwise, I am already over the hill.
Most Listenworthy Track: 'Cherry Waves'
score: 3,5 out of 5
THE KEYSTONE
There is a reason why the Deftones' fifth studio album, Saturday Night Wrist, was released on Halloween. Outburn magazine proclaims it's a "lush, powerful, beautiful, and disturbing" experience that mystifies even familiar listeners of the Sacramento quintet.
Once categorized as "rap metal" and sold next to Korn albums, the Deftones have certainly adapted to the music scene since the mid-90s. The new millennium brought White Pony, a critically acclaimed album, in a new direction for the band in which lead vocalist Chino Moreno was said to have indulged his Smiths and Cure obsessions. Since then, the band has continued to evolve into a sort of progressive rock amalgam while still alluding to their grittier metal sound. Their newest effort, Saturday Night Wrist, reflects that.
"Hole in the Earth" opens the album with a fissuring distortion from guitarist Stephen Carpenter, simulating a figurative rupture. The song is perfect for radio play; its hard-edge approach coupled with melodic vocals allows the song to be catchy and familiar for newbies and fans alike. During the bridge, Moreno chants, "This is the end, somewhere..." clearly initiating some sort of paradox with the song's placement as first on the album.
Crickets chime in during the chorus lead-in of "Beware," one of the more textually interesting of the 12 songs. Guitars swell, cautious yet powerful, propelling the song to reach an even six minutes.
As "Beware" ends, Abe Cunningham's drums begin "Cherry Waves," one of the album's slower, more somber surprises. Moreno's vocals dance around atmospheric guitars, echoing noises, and a sporadic bass line. Both of these songs use oceanic imagery to reflect upon the trials of a failed relationship, "Beware" representing the dominant side and "Cherry Waves" the more submissive.
The infamous "Konami Code" from the video game universe is the title of the sixth track on the album. The code enables invincibility in the video game version, but "U,U,D,D,L,R,L,R,A,B,Select,Start" is a rather quirky and subdued instrumental piece relying on unusual percussion and heavy bass.
"Rats! Rats! Rats!" is turbulent and the most violent song on the album and comes packaged with an extremely strange pacing. Moreno screams through the verses while resting briefly during the choruses. The vocals are reminiscent of the chorus delivery on "Hexagram," the opener from their self-titled album in 2003.
"Pink Cellphone" may be the most wildly eccentric and electronic sounding song provided by keyboardist Frank Delgado. The title is clearly sexually suggestive, somewhat reminiscent of "Mx" on their 1997 release, Around the Fur. Vocalist Annie Hardy and Moreno trade off sections of the song in a muffled spoken word fashion. "Bet you wanna get sex, that's right, grow up, but you wanna get sex," Moreno says to her. She replies with a startling meditative monologue while proclaiming a belief in "the one true Power."
Saturday Night Wrist closes with "Riviere," beginning with a quiet melodic guitar that quickly offsets itself into a groan of distortion. Moreno murmurs, "She haunts the road, she waits for a new face," an unsettling reminder of the ghost of an unknown woman.
Many of the songs refer to the word "earth" and use feminine imagery to augment the album's musical tone and album art. Moreno's habit of placing mysterious women on the cover of his albums has transcended its immediate meaning. No one knows who these women are; they merely serve as windows into Moreno's mind and subjects for his music. The sexuality associated with the woman on the album cover does not necessarily have anything to do with the name Saturday Night Wrist, a rather bizarre intoxication-related affliction where a person falls asleep while laying on his or her hand.
Whatever its intention, Saturday Night Wrist is an album of unsettling mystery and chaos but also of distinctive beauty. It may not be the Deftones' strongest release, but it is certainly a memorable one... worthy of a listen on any Saturday night.
ALL MUSIC
Three long years after the Deftones issued their self-titled album to puzzling reviews, the Sacramento quintet is back with Saturday Night Wrist, a recording that will further muddy the waters of categorization and expectation about who they are and what they're trying to do. After the breakthrough metallic-sounding Around the Fur, the band confounded critics and fans alike with the much softer and atmospherically adventurous White Pony. In 2003 they further transgressed the borderlines of all things boxed and tied with their self-titled album, which seemed to walk the line between rockist and "sensitive." But it's Saturday Night Wrist that fills out the portrait, bleeding though textures from one rock & roll type to another and coming up with something else altogether yet definitively "Deftones." The album began with a question and a small conflict in deciding on a producer. Already working with the hip Dan the Automator, after some internal drama the band decided on veteran Bob Ezrin. Ezrin pays off in a number of ways: these songs, as diverse as they are, are utterly disciplined sonically. They have all the tension and dynamic, all the immediacy of yore, but the mix is spacious, and Chino Moreno's vocals soar above it. That said, the vocals were produced by Far's Shaun Lopez. The wall of guitar sound walks a high wire between harder, more metallic rock and angular indie rock, winding them together. Check the opener — and single — "Hole in the Earth." It begins with a wall of feedback and thunderously distorted guitars accented by rim shots and cymbal fire before giving way to a skeletal six-string figure that seems barely able to support Moreno's singing, which combines the euphoria of a young, less pretentious Bono with the attack of, well, the Deftones. Guitars echo and whisper all along the backdrop while Moreno hovers there, until they crackle and spit to bring him back.
Popping muddy drums and distorted guitars introduce "Rapture," as Moreno gobs and screams the lyrics. Even here, the attack is straightforward as it turns and twists, all on sharp corners and rhythmic shifts. There are killer digital dub effects put into play on "Cherry Waves," giving the tune a bit of a blessed-out psychedelic effect as the band marries together the hookery of the vintage Smashing Pumpkins, the big chord riffs of Jane's Addiction, and U2's best shimmer while tossing in a bridge of eight bars from the Who's "Overture" from Tommy! It might have been a terrible mess, but it works beautifully. System of a Down's Serj Tankian helps out with additional vocals on "Mein," and Giant Drag's Annie Hardy helps out on "Pink Cellphone" (what a dumb title). The drippy space pop that is "Xerces" finds Moreno breathing a little too close to Billy Corgan for comfort on the verses. The gear-grinding guitars on "Rats!Rats!Rats!" are a welcome textural change, and the crunchy verse and refrain are downright nasty. The most straight-ahead rock attack comes on "KimDracula," with its bass throb and whiteout guitar riff; it pushes Moreno a little further outside the tune to come to terms with it. Ultimately, Saturday Night Wrist is satisfying, though it may take a few listens given all the changes in individual cuts that tend to blur together the first time or two through. To the faithful, the Deftones once again offer up their own brand of blast and croon. As for everyone else, there's plenty here to like, to argue with, and to be puzzled by .
score: 3,5 out of 5
TIMES ONLINE
Deftones always seemed well equipped to vault nu-metal’s two-dimensional blueprint. But fans of their White Pony album will recognise Saturday Night Wrist’s tried and tested blend of dark atmospherics and brute dynamics. There is poise and power on display from the off as Hole in the Earth mixes transfixing energy with an almost dreamlike chorus, while the trademark quavering drones and meaty riffs are there in spades, especially on the splenetic Rapture and the fearsomely unhinged Rats! Rats! Rats! Chino Moreno’s spectral moan cranks up the dark intensity, though he is relaxed enough to pass the mike over to System of a Down’s Serj Tankian for the standout Mein. You’ll need a strong constitution, but Saturday Night Wrist repays the effort.
score: 3 out of 5
LOS ANGELES DAILY NEWS
Deftones have conjured the ghost of Smashing Pumpkins on its first release since 2003. And Billy Corgan had nothing to do with it. For "Saturday Night Wrist," the Sacramento-based fivesome fronted by Chino Moreno worked with Bob Ezrin (who produced Pink Floyd's "The Wall") with help from Shaun Lopez (formerly the guitarist for Far). The result is a melodic, industrial rocker forged out of loud guitars, chaotic beats and tortured vocals that often recall those of Corgan.
A standout is the album opener and lead single "Hole in the Earth," described as a soundtrack to a vivid dream in which Moreno gasps and gets all choked up. Elsewhere the set thrashes ("FM"), knaws ("Rats!") and grooves ("Pink Cellphone," featuring the seductive vocalist Annie Hardy of Giant Drag). And speaking of guests, System of a Down's Serj Tankian makes a cameo in "Mein" on this moody, atmospheric set that rocks harder than "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness." But not by much.
score: 3 out of 5
NEW YORK TIMES
Deftones’ angst keeps getting more cosmic. Destruction has always fascinated this band: the self-destruction of addicts, the way love breaks down, the inevitability of death and decay. On their fifth studio album, “Saturday Night Wrist,” they continue to veer from suicidal despair to fury, from deliberate melody to thrashing and screaming. Now they occasionally look beyond self-obsession, thinking about war in “Combat,” religion in “Pink Cellphone,” the entire earth rotting away in “Kimdracula” and, as intoned in “Mein” by their collaborator Serj Tankian (from System of a Down), “the universe breaking us down.”
Formed in Sacramento in 1988, Deftones have worked their way through rap-rock and grunge, and they have flaunted the influence of Tool and Nine Inch Nails. “Saturday Night Wrist” grows more expansive. After a long apprenticeship, Deftones have started to sound like their own band: one that seesaws between agonized crooning and hard-rock attack, within songs as well as through albums.
“Saturday Night Wrist” was produced by the band and Bob Ezrin, who drew outsize, theatrical hard rock from Alice Cooper, Kiss and Pink Floyd in the 1970s. He makes Deftones’ music more spacious than before, even when the band is hammering away at top speed. Perhaps it was Mr. Ezrin who also convinced the band that it didn’t have to deface its prettier moments immediately.
The song “Hole in the Earth,” which could be about the singer imagining his own grave, almost waltzes at times. “Beware” brings Deftones close to Pink Floyd territory in a slow ballad that first crests in a gorgeous harmony chorus, then goes on to explode from within. “Beware the water,” Chino Moreno sings. “You knew that it was never safe.” Sometimes crickets chirp along on the beat.
Even amid the high-speed songs, “Rats! Rats! Rats!” starts out like a hardcore rant — “Decide is this it? Is it? Decide!” — but suddenly swoops into an arching chorus of second thoughts. It’s not some blatant concession to pop. It’s Deftones keeping everyone off balance, including themselves.
MEGASTAR UK
The last men standing of the nu-metal movement, Deftones have moved on to leave a legacy of their own - revered by indie chin-strokers and hardcore heads alike.
Stoner skater kids from Sacramento, the quintet always stood on the periphery of metals worst moment - avoiding the Fred Durst approved bling, bitches and beats cliché - by embracing their less macho side and forever experimenting.
From their angsty roots on debut Adrenaline, to polished sophomore album Around the Fur, to the electronic soaked and eery White Pony, the Deftones’ unique sound is always evolving - a blend of testosterone power and beautiful sensitivity.
score: 4 stars out of 5
Drowned in Sound
This is where Deftones could have gone gloriously off the rails: with its gestation blighted by inter-band fallouts, fuelled at least in part by the success of a side-project that really never held the smallest of candles to a couple of its members' nine-to-five, Saturday Night Wrist could have been a hatchet job. An apologetic farewell to fans, released simply to satisfy the demands of a label recognising a money-making opportunity regardless of the product's quality. It could have been a rehashing of previous long-play excursions, an awkward assimilation of influences from the pre-millennium era and post-White Pony years; perhaps it should have been that, and nothing more. Stick it out there, forget about it, break up: it's what seemed on the cards as recently as the beginning of 2006.
That Saturday Night Wrist confounds all expectations as early as the initial listen isn't merely a surprise, it's a revelatory sensation: this is the sound of a band, a band of relative veterans lest we forget, hitting their creative peak. Where the five men of Deftones go from here isn't even worth guessing - just enjoy this offering and try to drive from your mind any thoughts of this proving to be their parting shot. Even if this is the final chapter of a lengthy career of commercial success and critical acclaim, it's a wonder to behold and one that bears no sign of compromise.
Take the first track, lead single 'Hole In The Earth': remember 'Minerva' and the confusion that spread amongst the band's fanbase upon its release? It sounded as much like Team Sleep as it did a Deftones effort - or at least similar to what we were led to believe Team Sleep would sound like - and didn't particularly succeed in showcasing its parent self-titled album of 2003. 'Hole In The Earth' makes no such error: from the first few seconds of squealing feedback, any doubts as to Deftones' rocking abilities are blown asunder. When vocalist Chino Moreno opens his throat, his audience sings with him without even knowing the words. When the first WHOO arrives just after the minute mark, any residual memories of the alleged friction within the group are rocketed into the depths of space. It's a fantastically confident lead song, and it sets the scene for the majority of Saturday Night Wrist amazingly well.
Its sequential successor, 'Rapture', ups the visceral ante considerably: straight to business with hammering drums and a series of heavy - yet typically rooted in melody - riffs, the song exhibits the band's ability to squeeze about a dozen structural ideas into the space of a single song. Moreno's vocals recall the frenzied days of Adrenaline, albeit mercifully without the raps, and the energy the track possesses is enough to knock the first-timer clean off their feet, Walkman landing three feet away on the pavement. The album's second song is far from its most aggressive inclusion, though - 'Rats!Rats!Rats!', eight of twelve, quite obviously steals away that honour, even if it does contain one of the glossiest choruses to be heard here. The breakdown a minute-twenty from home leaves me flabbergasted each and every time I allow it to violate my ear canals.
Saturday Night Wrist's only real low - one that next to every fan has picked up upon, immediately - is 'Pink Cellphone'. In what was probably a good idea at the time, Giant Drag's Annie Hardy contributes emotionlessly deadpan vocals to a series of limp beats and bleeps as Moreno croons about something or other of little to no importance. This "one true power" they speak of, I don't want it anywhere near me if this is the sort of music it inspires. Moreno aside, the remaining Deftones members must have bitten their tongues when this was deemed worthy of final cut inclusion. Thankfully for buyers bereft of the promo version of Saturday Night Wrist, the song's obscenity-filled final minute-ish has been removed from the in-stores album. You'll never have to hear Hardy mumble on about butt-fucking. Be grateful.
Had 'Pink Cellphone' been included only as a 'hidden' bonus track, Saturday Night Wrist would almost certainly be receiving a perfect score below. Appearing at track nine, though, it disrupts the otherwise excellent flow of this album, and comprises a cancer that really should have been cut free prior to Saturday Night Wrist's release into the public sphere.
Thankfully for all concerned, no other song plumbs the depths the aforementioned reaches so grossly - from the buzzing melancholy of 'Beware' to the dramatic histrionics and filtered vocals of 'Kimdracula', this is an album of great strength and purpose. Quite clearly Deftones' putting aside of their differences has resulted in what is - that song aside - their best-ever long-player. As a long-term fan I don't say that lightly: this deserves to be recognised as a classic in modern metal circles, not only for its unexpected excellence in the face of obvious obstacles, but for the fact that it beautifully demonstrates its makers' abilities to sidestep the predictable and continually challenge both themselves and their audience. They are off the rails, and flying to only they know where.
If you've even the slightest interest in 'heavy' music, you simply must make Saturday Night Wrist an integral part of your record collection. Its charms don't dull with repeat plays - believe me when I say I've given it plenty - and the creativity and ambition evident across its fifty minutes is so sizeable it's a wonder any other rock record has come near my stereo these past couple of months. It's the perfect Deftones album, a sole sucker aside. Get it ASAP.
score: 9/10
BLABBERMOUTH
No one could ever accuse DEFTONES of not being a truly weird bunch of guys: just listen to "Pink Cellphone", from the band's fifth album, "Saturday Night Wrist", to hear the group at their absolute strangest. In fact, the band fades into the background on this track: it's an ambient collage of loops played under a sexy female voice (provided by GIANT DRAG's Annie Hardy) reciting some bizarre stream-of-consciousness patter that unexpectedly turns quite obscene.
But the DEFTONES are usually at their best when they are at their most experimental, which is why 2000's "White Pony" remains their finest outing to date. 2003's self-titled fourth effort sounded dreary and repetitive, as if the band itself had tired of its sound.
On "Saturday Night Wrist", the distinctive DEFTONES sound is still there — and still remains a decidedly acquired taste — but the sense of eclecticism and experimentation is back, as well as a newfound energy. The album's heavy cuts are among the heaviest the band has done, while the more diverse stuff breaks up the disc enough for those of us who sometimes find these Sacramento boys droning and inaccessible. Even if one is not the world's biggest DEFTONES fans, there's a wide range of styles available here to keep the album interesting.
The riffing from Stephen Carpenter on cuts like the surprisingly catchy "Hole In The Earth", "FM" and "Beware" is huge and brutal at times, with the latter tune starting out slowly and more atmospherically before Carpenter cuts loose in the track's final section. The next two songs on the record, "Cherry Waves" and "Mein", are more generic, with the latter only set apart by an appearance by SYSTEM OF A DOWN's Serj Tankian. The most abstract section of the album follows, as the ambient instrumental "U, U, D, D, L, R, L, R, A, B, Select, Start" leads into the mellower, strangely moving "Xerces". Singer Chino Moreno, whose wistful vocals have always been a love/hate proposition, seems to inject real emotion and presence into this and other songs on the disc, giving his performances here a more forceful quality that before.
Much of "Saturday Night Wrist" — at least judging by Moreno's deliberately inscrutable lyrics — seems to have been fueled by the band's well-documented difficulties in making this album, problems which came close to breaking the quintet up (check out the lyrics to the ferociously manic "Rats! Rats! Rats!", "Combat" and "Hole In The Earth" and you'll get the picture). Yet in the tradition of many rock bands who have used crises as a springboard for their art, DEFTONES have rallied to create one of the strongest discs in the band's repetoire. As much as I liked "White Pony", that's pretty much the only DEFTONES CD I've ever listened to more than once — until now. If you're not a fan, this one could change your mind. If you're already one, then you'd better hope it doesn't take the group's near-destruction to produce another album this strong.
score: 8/10
AbsolutePunk
Throughout their long career, Deftones have been pushing the musical boundaries of metal since day one. Their first two albums (1995’s Adrenaline and 1997’s Around The Fur) were raw, chaotic, and in your face. After a 3 year break, the Sacramento band, which was originally a quartet (vocalist/guitarist Chino Moreno, guitarist Stephen Carpenter, bassist Chi Cheng, and drummer Abe Cunningham), officially added keyboardist/DJ Frank Delgado to the mix, and released the genre defying White Pony. Heavier, moodier, and complex, it prompted all major music publications to crown them as the “Radiohead of Metal.” It is also very likely that White Pony influenced some of your favorite post-hardcore bands recent albums. After all the success and hype (Pony went on to go platinum), Deftones followed it up with 2003’s self titled effort, which left much to be desired. The band has said they became lazy on that record and that album showed how much they put into it. Leaving many fans disappointed, Deftones barely toured to support that record, and many began to forget about them and/or write them off. Their latest release, Saturday Night Wrist, is here to win back those fans and erase the disappointment of the last album.
Despite almost breaking up and an insane amount of turmoil and delays in Saturday Night Wrist’s production, it is finally upon us and I am here to assure you that it’s a return to glory for the Tones. While most of the music was produced by Bob Ezrin (KISS, Alice Cooper, Pink Floyd), Moreno’s longtime friend Shaun Lopez worked with him on vocals. The result is a twelve track album that sounds like the natural progression of White Pony, combining aspects from that album and Moreno’s quieter side project, Team Sleep.
The first single, “Hole In The Earth,” begins with a crushing guitar intro followed by Moreno’s melodic vocals. A passionate combination of melody and hostility, the song kicks off the album well and is a message from the band: they aren’t messing around this time. The frantic “Rapture” follows, which displays Moreno’s raspy scream and the heaviness Carpenter loves to incorporate in each song. Reminiscent of “Elite” from Pony, it’s definitely a song that knocks you on your ass.
The balancing act of metal and melody is apparent throughout the album, especially in “Beware,” which just may be one of the best songs the Deftones have ever written. Spanning six minutes, the choruses are slow and atmospheric, with Moreno eerily singing. With just a little under two minutes left in the track though, the Tones let it loose and deliver an auditory ambush. “Cherry Waves” reminds me a lot of a Yeah Yeah Yeah’s song, as Moreno’s croon in the chorus is similar to Karen O, just not as feminine. “Mein” will be a fan favorite, as System Of A Down’s Serj Tankian lends his voice on the chorus, offering deep vocals, which counteracts to Moreno’s higher sound on the verses. Following that is the instrumental “u, u, d, d, l, r, l, r, a, b, select, start,” a Deftones first. This builds up to another moody, piano-driven “Xerces.” A showcase of Delgado’s programming and keyboard skills, his work stands out along with Moreno’s vocal range. This track, combined with the instrumental, kind of stalls the pace of the album, and could lull listeners to sleep on their first listen. Thankfully, “Rats! Rats! Rats!” follows to revive the album’s pace. A high-octane track, the guitars dart in and out, Cunningham controls the skins, and Moreno sings like a madman in the verses, only to pull back and sing on the choruses. This doesn’t last long, as Moreno and Carpenter kick you in the teeth with the vicious combination of vocals and guitar. One of best songs on the album, as the fusion of brutality and melody is something to behold.
The album takes a trip to the asylum with “Pink Cellphone,” an electronia-tinged track that is heavily influenced by Team Sleep, as it would fit perfectly on their album. It’s a nice change of scenery on the album, until the final minute. Featuring Giant Drag’s vocalist Annie Hardy, she finishes off the track with a x-rated dialogue, mentioning Hot Carls and explaining why British people have bad teeth, among other things. I can see that part completely ruining “Cellphone” for many listeners, as it takes a few listens just to get over the absurdness of this track. “Combat” brings the album back to normalcy, as it begins with a spacey minute and a half intro into Cunningham’s staccato drum roll and Carpenter and Cheng’s devastating musicianship. This track slightly reminds me of another track from White Pony, this time being “Knife Prty.” “Kimdracula” follows, and this is another track that’ll please White Pony fans.
The gentle “Riviere” closes out Saturday Night Wrist. Moreno’s vocals effortlessly flow over this lullaby, as Carpenter’s guitar keeps the dark undertone in place. The song displays an emotional heaviness, as Carpenter punishes his kit and Cheng and Carpenter drive through with their bass and guitar, respectively. Moreno finishes off the track poignantly, barely whispering “She haunts the road/she waits for a new face,” bringing the album to a haunting close.
The process of finishing Saturday Night Wrist almost destroyed the band, with creative differences between Moreno and Carpenter. It even got the point where each member wanted to kick out Moreno. But, I’ve always believed in the theory that when there is turmoil in the Deftones’ studio, a great album will follow. Saturday Night Wrist is the redemptive album every Deftones fan was waiting for after the disappointment of the last recording. The angst and anxiety are back in Moreno’s vocals, while the swagger is more apparent than ever in the music. While it doesn’t top White Pony, it comes pretty damn close. The album isn’t without fault – the middle of the album can drag on at points and many will despise “Pink Cellphone”— it is still one of the best albums I’ve heard in 2006, as very few bands can reach the perfect medium of ambience and aggression in their songwriting as well as matching the amazing vocal range of Chino Moreno. There are reasons why the Deftones are known as “the Radiohead of metal” and many of your favorite bands want to emulate their style; Saturday Night Wrist only proves these points even further.
score: 94%
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY
Saturday Night Wrist boasts some of the Deftones' best out-and-out metal tunes to date; ''Rats!Rats!Rats!'' in particular is every bit as urgent and unsettling as its title implies. On the handful of tracks where the quintet indulges its experimental streak, however, the results are more mixed. Sparse electro-funk number ''Pink Cellphone'' is impressive - and impressively rude - but jammy instrumental ''u,u,d,d,l,r,l,r,a,b,selct, start'' sounds like people just noodling around while they wait for their singer to arrive.
Grade: B
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