[Clip The Apex... Accept Instruction]
I’m not going to pretend I’m old and decrepit, but as I wade into my 30s, I’m noticing a year-over-year increase in anniversary shows and tours for albums that defined my music tastes throughout my life. It’s thought-provoking at the very least, and it puts the past two decades of my life into perspective. Every few months, it seems an iconic album celebrates a milestone that would see it being old enough to drive, vote, drink, and beyond. One such album celebrating a monumental milestone is The Dillinger Escape Plan's Calculating Infinity—a record whose legacy I shouldn't have to waste much time defending on this website, but more on that later.
First, some perspective: this website was founded in 2009 when I was 18 and in college, consuming music voraciously and seeking an outlet to express that fervor beyond lurking in the Metalsucks comments section. Since then, I’ve completed college, made it through grad school, started a career, and became a parent. It’s been 15 years this summer, and it’s mind-blowing that this site is still operational when the blog era of music is decidedly over. Most of the major platforms I looked up to or were contemporaries with have either closed up shop or been bought out (shout out to No Clean Singing for hanging in there with us on the independent blog front!). I’m very fortunate to have made friends along the way, and equally fortunate that this website is still functioning, even if it is now a skeleton crew managing revolving-door genre recaps each month. This site’s existence has afforded me opportunities to travel, attend events, and meet people I wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. We sometimes joke about Heavy Blog being a mistake, but it’s truly been a blessing that has led to incredible memories and beautiful friendships.
It was actually this very site that provided me with the opportunity to travel to see The Dillinger Escape Plan’s final three shows as an active band at Terminal 5 in New York City back in December 2017. They were one of my top two bands at the time and perhaps now my favorite band of all time, with their flawless discography holding strong where other bands have lost potency. As bittersweet as their dissolution was, there's something beautiful about the lightning-in-a-bottle nature of The Dillinger Escape Plan. The band's work now stands as a complete statement with no lingering questions. There was closure, and there was intent. Bands seldom get such a thing. Guitarist Ben Weinman was wise to be protective of the band's legacy in such a way. As perfect as it is, nostalgia is a powerful drug.
I’m also not going to sit here and pretend that I was on the ground floor of The Dillinger Escape Plan’s monumental debut album, Calculating Infinity. In fact, that record released mere days after my ninth birthday, and at that time, my musical diet probably consisted mostly of whatever was on the radio. It was 1999, after all. Not that it matters; fourth graders aren't exactly the target audience for technically astounding and sonically abrasive records even today. It wasn't until high school when I discovered “Fix Your Face” on MySpace during the ramp-up to the band's album cycle for Ire Works that I became aware of the band at all. I was hooked immediately, and it changed my entire perspective on music. Naturally, I would work my way back to Miss Machine and find my heart swelling with Irony Is A Dead Scene, but appreciating the raw and comparatively hookless nature of Calculating Infinity would take a bit more time. Yet, even when I discovered the record nearly a decade after its release, I understood and appreciated how monumental it was, even without anyone explicitly telling me.
And sure, we’ve all heard how important Calculating Infinity was; it’s the culmination of influences that led to what is now called “mathcore”, recognized far and wide as a legitimate and distinct branch of hardcore and metal, with its own rules and aesthetics. This was genre-defining, and its importance cannot be overstated. I was fortunate to see a lion's share of the material covered with the band's original vocalist Dimitri Minakakis (who, if you didn't know, left the band a year after the album's release to focus on his family and career), and I was satisfied that this era of the band's history had been respected in the farewell shows.
Now, seven years after those final shows, founding members Weinman and Minakakis are back in a sort of supergroup lineup - rounded out by Liam Wilson on bass, Billy Rymer on drums, and James Love on guitar - in celebration of the 25th anniversary of Calculating Infinity. The news of the reunion shows was shocking, and I wasted no time in buying tickets to all three dates as soon as they were announced. After all, I had attended all three nights of the farewell shows—why shouldn't I do the poetic thing and attend again for the celebration of a classic? I decided to act first and think about logistics later. Fortunately, it all worked out.
[Proceed With Caution]
While undercut slightly by their appearance at the No Values Festival on June 8th in Pamona, CA marking the band's first actual public performance since those 2017 farewell dates, the Calculating Infinity 25 shows in Brooklyn were the first announced, and serve as the band's first proper headlining shows as part of the album's anniversary cycle which has also seen dates announced later this year in Chicago as well as European appearancesin Netherlands, Czech Republic, and Belgium. It's unknown if more dates will surface, but why stop at only appearing at six cities?
For their three night sold-out stint in New York, Dillinger took up residency at the historic and newly renovated Brooklyn Paramount, which hosted Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, and Dizzy Gillespie since its opening in the late 1920's. Now, it's owned and operated by the villainous Live Nation, but what can you do? Past the hilarious "NO MOSHING" signs (are they aware of the band they booked?) is an incredibly gorgeous venue that seems almost too nice for the type of music which would take place within its walls. The architecture and design of the place offered a contemporary take on the historic ties to the opulent early 1900's New York aesthetic, where soon a dad from Jersey in his 40's and an army of thousands would scream the words "I smell that whore" moments before spitting literal fire from the stage.
This dichotomy was always a part of what made The Dillinger Escape Plan such an attractive and intoxicating band; that Mr. Bungle-inspired bridging of high and low brow art, with the bratty angst and often violent outbursts and confrontational aesthetic of hardcore punk and a hyper-technical and jazz-informed musicality of which an enterprising college professor could teach in an entire semester. It's the expensive chandeliers and art deco installments just feet away from a shirt depicting a hand clutching a brick with ill intent that encapsulates the spirit of Dillinger. It's a perfect place to celebrate the anniversary of an album that has garnered such acclaim, influence, and prestigious legacy while at the same time absolutely disgusting and confounding our mothers.
For this run of shows, Dillinger curated a revolving door of guests that have some significance in the musical lineage leading up to and beyond the Dillinger Escape Plan's influence. Night one featured industrial metalcore act Candy and New York mathcore and tech metal giants Car Bomb as well as unannounced special guests, string quartet Seven)Suns. Night two saw New Jersey proto-metalcore legends Deadguy open the show, with Atlanta mathcore acolytes The Callous Daoboys and the return of Seven)Suns leading the charge into the night. Night three saw all the bands, sans Seven)Suns, returning. Let's do a quick recall:
Candy - Nights One and Three
Candy, fresh off the release of their acclaimed new album It's Inside You, opened the run of shows Friday night. Interestingly, the band made no effort to promote their appearance on these shows. Not that they needed to, but it's interesting to see their aloof and minimalistic approach at promotion extends to the stage. Candy are a band I had been rooting for, as their discography thus far has been honestly incredible, and their take on industrial metalcore is leagues ahead of where Code Orange ended up landing and are absolutely deserving to be in the conversation of bands like Vein.
While they performed adeptly, they were carried by vocalist Zachary Quiram, who clearly studied the greats when it comes to fronting a modern hardcore band. He prowled the stage, animated with an almost hostile disposition that the music demands. At his command, the crowd compressed towards the front. His engagements with the crowd made both of their sets entertaining. The rest of the band however seemed more introverted and muted in their stage presence. The industrial elements, piped in mostly as interlude tracks, didn't mesh as well with the live instrumentation, and the band's wall-of-noise and electronic approach to sound didn't translate in the room.
That being said, it's hard out there for support acts to get an ideal environment with respect to light and sound, especially at a show like this where so much is outside of their control, and it isn't lost on me that a band like Candy would translate much more effectively in tighter rooms. It was said during night one's performance during their headlining set that Dimitry mentioned that Candy were experiencing a tragedy in their family, and that they had overcome some difficulties in making the show. This explains the energy being off, and it's worth giving Candy the benefit of the doubt. Go listen to It's Inside You and Heaven Is Here, both out now on Relapse Records.
Car Bomb - Nights One and Three
While arriving on the scene after The Dillinger Escape Plan was an established name, Car Bomb should absolutely be seen as their contemporaries. Sure, the band is slower moving with respect to musical activity, with seven years from the band's founding to their debut album debut album, and another five for the follow-up, but Car Bomb have been lurking about since 2000. 2007's Centralia forecasted and pre-dated the rise of djent that would eventually help them find a larger audience.
Having never caught them live, Car Bomb were one of the bands I was most excited about seeing. They could never disappoint, but the expectations were far surpassed. They were perhaps the loudest band of the weekend, with the low end rattling bones. Bassist Jon Modell and drummer Elliot Hoffman were lock-step with each other, and sole guitarist Greg Kubacki's stunning command of the instrument in both technique and texture brings to mind (obviously) Frederik Thordendal of Meshuggah and Tom Morello of Rage Against The Machine. Those lazer sounds of "Dissect Yourself" are so powerful, I could run through a wall.
Frontman Michael Dafferner is an endearing frontman, forgoing all the macho bullshit with promises of kisses at the merch booth and self-deprecating humor about his gut. His lighthearted banter and singsongy jokes between songs almost makes the songs heavier by contrast. It's magical. The band members themselves were also the most approachable all weekend, with Modell manning the merch booth and I found myself accidentally making introductions with Kubacki between sets. It's good to see a great band with great people.
It's alleged that the band doesn't use click tracks, and it's evident when half the members on stage don't have in-ears. It's paradoxical, really; Car Bomb are inhumanly tight for playing such complex rhythms, and the modulation of time and tempo on each track would render creating click tracks a futile and pointless effort. It's a sight to behold.
Hot take: we've evolved past the need for Meshuggah when we have Car Bomb on the scene. Here's hoping there's a new album on the horizon shortly.
The Callous Daoboys - Nights Two and Three
If any young band takes up the mantle left by The Dillinger Escape Plan, it's Atlanta's The Callous Daoboys. When I first heard 2022's Celebrity Therapist, it took me back to hearing Miss Machine for the first time in their blend of post-hardcore and alternative elements within mathcore, albeit with a dose of deathcore and the genre-bending post-ironic irreverence of a band like iwrestledabearonce. Needless to say, I'm a big fan, and even through illness and technical difficulties, they didn't disappoint.
Vocalist Carson Pace was transparent with the crowd and shared that he was sick, and his speaking voice was quite hoarse, but his performance was stellar and nearly pitch perfect. In their second set of the weekend, Pace performed an insane pig squeal that surprised the crowd. His banter was spot-on as well, playfully egging on the crowd with things like "get moving or we won't come back" and "hit somebody with a Jane Doe t-shirt."
Their energy was so incredibly fun, and their live set was engaging, with samples between tracks that made the set so engaging. A sped-up remix of Cascada's "Every Time We Touch" playing between songs had the crowd clapping and dancing, with a build-up leading seamlessly into a Daoboys original. Both nights, Pace introduced their next song as a Metallica track, with the James Hetfield acapella intro to "Fuel" leading straight into their song "Violent Astrology" in a hilarious bait and switch. Their stage presence was electric, particularly violinist Amber Christman, who's dancing and hype-man antics made up for her instrument being nearly inaudible in the room.
I was a fan before, but the Daoboys' two sets were incredibly endearing. Pace shared with the crowd that he flew up from Atlanta seven years before to see Dillinger's final shows and that playing with his favorite band is like a dream (and a nightmare) come true. Seeing bassist Jackie Buckalew visibly thrilled at side stage when The Dillinger Escape Plan shouted them out during their headlining set was a nice moment as a fan of both bands. You just want to root for the Daoboys.
Deadguy - Nights Two and Three
I must admit, I was unfamiliar with Deadguy's game, and for that I must apologize. If Dillinger built the house of mathcore with their work on Calculating Infinity, their Jersey neighbors Deadguy helped lay the foundation upon which it was built. Their one and only full-length album Fixation on a Coworker pre-dates Dillinger's first EP by two years, and Calculating by four. In fact, Deadguy broke up years before Calculating Infinity saw the light of day. And yet, here they were, enjoying a rare performance since their 2021 reunion for Decibel Metal and Beer Fest.
It's hard to imagine that the band that stood before me for two nights hadn't released an album in thirty years, because they were on point, with old-school first wave metalcore and noise rock pummeling the crowd with their old-school Jersey charm. This old guard of mathcore commands respect, and while not nearly as technically punishing as Dillinger, some sludgy riffs and the occasionally shifting time signature was enough to keep you on your toes.
In their second set, vocalist Tim Singer's microphone suffered some sort of failure leaving his banter nearly incomprehensible, but his shouted vocal style was interestingly and fittingly distorted for the performance. They plowed through the set despite the setback, and unveiled some new material in the process. Sounds like they're picking up where they left off, which is promising. Hopefully we can hear it properly soon.
Seven)Suns - Nights One and Two
New York-based string quartet Seven)Suns first shared the stage with The Dillinger Escape Plan in 2017 during the band's final farewell show. They concluded the performance with "Dissociation," a song to which they had contributed strings on The Dillinger Escape Plan's final album. A bittersweet moment, but it marked my introduction to Seven)Suns' music and their association with the Dillinger camp. It was a delightful surprise to see them once again supporting Dillinger, this time as direct support.
Led by violinist Earl Maneein, the quartet performed three different songs from their latest album—a classical reinterpretation of Dillinger's acclaimed 2013 album One Of Us Is The Killer. On the first night, they quietly took the side-stage and energetically played tracks like "Prancer" before graciously bowing to the audience and leaving the stage. The second night featured Maneein addressing the crowd directly, expressing gratitude for the honor and privilege of their association with Dillinger and the opportunity to perform during these celebratory shows. One of the most poignant moments of the weekend occurred during their final song, a rendition of the title track "One of Us Is the Killer," when the crowd joined in singing along. It was a magical moment, and one that a string quartet often doesn't get to have. The support and audience participation meant a lot to them, and it showed.
Seven)Suns are plotting the release of a new double-album of original works, so keep your eyes peeled for that within the next year.
[Calculating Infinity]
When it came time to experience a Dillinger Escape Plan live show again, I had to contend with both my excitement and my anxiety. On one hand, I'm about to experience a band that I thought had been long gone with no chance to return, and I was ready to take advantage of the privilege I had of being there. Historically though, Dillinger as an institution have been known to be fairly dangerous and their live shows have been defined and underscored by a threat to the wellbeing of not just the concertgoer, but the band members themselves. We're talking waves of bodies on all sides, including from the balconies above. With this knowledge in the front of my mind, I elected to play it safe from the back of the room for night one, but over the course of the weekend, I would eventually feel comfortable enough to make my way up front.
After the supporting acts concluded, a curtain opened to reveal the rest of the stage, which featured a massive riser which kept drummer Billy Rymer fittingly elevated about five feet above the rest of the band. Given that the backbone of this band has always been the intricate rhythms, it made sense to put Rymer on a pedestal. This staging was far from your standard hardcore affair, but no less appropriate for the band's legacy. Slightly below Rymer on its own smaller platform was an array of spinning LEDs that lit up throughout the show with visuals including the iconic amplifier vacuum tubes from the Calculating Infinity artwork, spinning in illusory 3D space during the opening playback of mood-setter "*#.." before the band ripped into action with a revolving door of tracks each night.
The set was mostly consistent with the songs included, with all of Calculating Infinity naturally being represented at the core of the set, albeit shuffled around in order each night. In addition to these core tracks, classic and unskippable EP tracks such as "The Mullet Burden" and "Sandbox Magician" as well as rarer gems "Proceed With Caution" and "I Love Secret Agents" remaining as mainstays across all three nights along with performances of the band's classic Mike Patton-era cover of Aphex Twin's "Come To Daddy."
Weinman was a sight to behold as always, thrashing around stage without missing a beat. It remains a mystery how one man can play such complex and intense music while stuttering and staggering across stage, rolling around on the ground, and throwing his guitar. He hasn't missed a beat in those seven years since the band's final shows, which makes sense as he's remained busy and active touring with Suicidal Tendencies. The rhythm section of Rymer and Wilson were tight and comfortable as always, their presence warm and grounded the reunion with a sense of consistency that was appreciated. Touring guitarist James Love returned to the band for the first time since a brief 2015 run and kept composure on stage left, manning the fort and holding the guitar down for Weinman.
The biggest wildcard was always going to be Minakakis, who left the band shortly after Calculating Infinity's release and would not maintain a consistent public musical endeavor since. Minakakis highlighted the fact that these Calculating Infinity 25 shows were the first consistent and demanding musical performance gigs he's had since his 20's, and his first since 2017, but it didn't show. Beyond his voice getting deeper, his unmistakable bark was as good as ever, and he had the stage charisma of a stellar frontman. During performances of "Jim Fear," Minakakis would appear at the Front of House mixing board atop a road case and perform with fervor and intensity to the people in the back of the room before hopping down into the crowd for "Come To Daddy." In true Dillinger fashion, he would share the mic with fans and do a lot of audience participation from the front of the pit. He's still got it!
Rare tracks would come and go throughout the weekend to reward repeat ticketholders, including deep cuts like "Cleopatra's Sling," "Monticello," "Caffeine," and "Three For Flinching" from their 1997 self-titled EP would get their flowers across the weekend. The band had fun with some cover tracks, including songs by Minor Threat, Rollins Band, and Wire to liven things up. Invariably though, each show ended with the iconic "43% Burnt." As if there were any other way of ending a Dillinger Escape Plan show.
It wouldn't take long into the band's first set for the weekend when I came to the realization that the entity of The Dillinger Escape Plan before us was playing it safer, with a live show that was a bit more traditional for an act of their size and status. The band had achieved mythical status that is almost impossible to achieve, let alone maintain nearly thirty years beyond their formation.
Having seen the band only a small handful of times before, I had conjured images of flying bodies, swelling crowds, and a sense of danger in the pit. Seven years prior, I had a moment of sheer panic as my legs were swept up from under me and yet I could not fall due to the force of the crowd from all sides. I laid eyes on Rymer's drum platform and knew in my bones bodies would fall from it, but it was only really used by Weinman at the very most once per show throughout the weekend, and yes, he did leap off it to no obvious injury. This time, I was able to show up after doors and meander to the front railing without grievous bodily harm. Times have changed.
This isn't a criticism of the band whatsoever, who performed with passion and energy. They provided another sense of closure to the band's legacy that had previously only gotten a passing nod and a firm handshake the last time. As a longtime fan, I was thrilled and satisfied. But it was also a firm reminder of the passing of time and the inevitability of death and decay.
We just don't have those fresh-out-the-box knees anymore. Looking around, I took a quick and informal census on the makeup of the crowd. There were some early twenty-somethings presumably taking their opportunity to see the band in action for the first time ever, but if I were to guess, I'd wager the average age of the folks in the room would hover around 38 or perhaps higher. Between acts across the run of shows, people could be seen stretching, sitting down on the floor, fishing loose Tylenol out of their pockets, and nursing their drinks. Balcony upgrades were available (thanks Live Nation!) but no one gave even a slight motion towards jumping.
No, we were old, and you could tell in the energy of the crowd. On Saturday during their first performance of the weekend, The Callous Daoboys vocalist Carson Pace called the crowd "geriatrics" to solid laughs. This isn't to say the band nor the crowd were completely dead. Those "NO MOSHING" signs did little to stop the crowdsurfers, moshers, and stray crowdkillers. It didn't take much convincing from Car Bomb vocalist Michael Dafferner to initiate a circle pit from the crowd; just enough of a wave of his microphone above his head to claim plausible deniability, and the crowd parted. The Callous Daoboys and Candy both goaded the audience to various degrees of success; Daoboys bassist Jackie Buckalew regularly performed mosh callouts, and Pace egged on that they wouldn't come back if they didn't see some movement. More often than not, the people obliged, but kept it reasonable.
But audience participation at a Dillinger Escape Plan show used to be a bit more exaggerated than what I experienced at these reunion shows and I'm more than okay with it. A slight rush of bodies to the center front to shout along with Minakakis was inevitable, as were the waves of crowd surfers, but not a single crowdgoer found their way to the stage for a dive. The only person to dive into the crowd from the stage was naturally Weinman himself at the close of the final show on Sunday to embrace and thank everyone for coming. That window of the Dillinger Escape Plan history known for violence might be closed, and perhaps it's for the better, best left as a special time and place in the past alongside lawn darts and Adventure Park. I've got kids and a career, and I'm in no position to have my head stepped on or catch stray bodies falling from the next floor up.
This isn't to say the weekend went by without a sense of danger. Each night during the grand finale of "43% Burnt," the band would slow down that already iconic ending breakdown for a terrorizing halftime stomp as Minakakis would practice firebreathing over the stage and photo pit, heating up the first few rows of bodies in a flash of fireballs. The Dillinger Escape Plan's relationship with firebreathing goes back to the early Puciato era circa Miss Machine and Ire Works cycles, with Puciato often breathing fire during the instrumental section of "Sunshine the Werewolf." I was unfortunately a teen in rural Kentucky and had no opportunities beyond YouTube live bootlegs to see them live during those eras, and by the time I saw the band the first time during the One Of Us Is The Killer cycle, the practice was long-since abandoned. Minakakis' nod to this nostalgic part of Dillinger history was much appreciated, and certainly contributed to the energy and memorability of the weekend.
It's interesting though that as we all inch closer to death that Dillinger would tap the brakes on their thrill-seeking brinksmanship. It's no secret that the volatile Dillinger live shows have contributed to lawsuits, though the specifics aren't well publicized beyond the knowledge that the infamous Virgin Megastore headwalking video was used as evidence on at least once occasion. You simply cannot maintain much of your punk rock DIY ethos and sense of danger when Live Nation contracts, LLCs, and insurance policies are unavoidable for a band of this size within our current system. In what ways can the high and low brow be maintained and boundaries be pushed in an era of $30 drinks and NO MOSHING signage? It's easy to be flippant and wax anarchic about how live music is supposed to be dangerous when you don't have kids to clothe, house, and feed, that's for sure.
Back in 2017, I experienced a thrilling, life-affirming experience at the supposed final Dillinger Escape Plan shows, and I can safely say the same thing about the weekend in Brooklyn in 2024. I'd be happy to see them a final time twelve more times, should we be so lucky.
One of the biggest revelations from the weekend was the clear comradery and chemistry between Minakakis and Weinman. Their mutual love and respect was palpable and more evident than ever. It was enough to make anyone wish the two would continue collaborating beyond these shows for a new era of Dillinger or another separate entity; doesn't matter the specifics, we just simply need more of these two, even if it's through a studio-only project. Even if it never happens, the perfect discography and the memories of having witnessed the best live band in extreme music will always be there.
