Chris Lord 

Meshuggah review – mechanical Swedish metallers in need of human frailty

Effectively summoning moods of burning heat and freezing cold, the djent pioneers’ machine-like precision can be tiring
  
  

Part mesmeric, part terrifying … Jens Kidman of Meshuggah performing at Manchester Academy.
Part mesmeric, part terrifying … Jens Kidman of Meshuggah performing at Manchester Academy. Photograph: Joel Goodman/the Guardian

Along the lines of the infinite monkey theorem, if one was to program a group of AI-enhanced robots to create metal music, there’s every chance it would sound like Meshuggah. The Swedish tech-metal pioneers – so revered they are playing the Royal Albert Hall later this week – are known for their punishingly heavy riffs, technical prowess and colossal sonic power, delivered with machine-like precision.

Touring in support of their latest album Immutable, the quintet is greeted with boisterous chants of “Meh-shoo-gah”. Moments earlier, the crowd sings along to Careless Whisper’s saxophone parts, which is played over the PA. It’s probably the most fun they’ll have all night.

Thanks to a superb light show, it’s of little consequence that opening songs Broken Cog and Light the Shortening Fuse are laborious. Discounting drummer Tomas Haake, the four men out front position themselves in front of lifesize screens depicting figures aflame – producing a silhouette effect that’s part mesmeric, part terrifying.

Rational Gaze gets heads banging in earnest, with Haake’s pummelling, polyrhythmic strikes forming its spine. Fredrik Thordendal’s lead guitar break seeps through the curtain of noise like a welcome crack of light. This is an exhibition of unflinching heaviness, but the band has all the dynamic variety of a bulldozer.

Another new one, Ligature Marks’ guitars raise a cavernous metallic tapestry. Frontman Jens Kidman arches his back and throws out his forearms like an end-of-level boss. His unearthly vocal ability commands the attention of the room – here the guttural screams evoke a scorched tension.

So long have Meshuggah been labelled innovators and influencers – they inspired the djent subgenre in the late 2000s – that it’s as if the emphasis is more on methodology than the efficacy of their output. Born in Dissonance follows a similar formula with jagged rhythms and cacophonous guitar work. Plenty in the audience are valiant in their attempts to headbang in sync. Kidman roars: “In human tongue we’re apocalypse / For we bring with us obliteration.”

Yet for all their apocalyptic energy, it is chaos controlled. This chops-heavy performance bulges with bluster and metallised textures, but the general impression is a calculated coldness. The destination is invariably as inclement as the journey. Complex, almost mathematical metal is Meshuggah’s speciality, but there’s nothing like human error.

  • Meshuggah are at Barrowland Ballroom, Glasgow, 30 May; Royal Albert Hall, London, 3 June.

 

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