MASTERPIECE!
Ok, I'm going out on a limb this time... I almost never do, but this album deserves top marks.
Why?! Simple, it was written in 2010 and then mastered in our days!
It’s not as immediate and furious as "around the fur" and it touches with its fingertips the perfection of "white pony," embracing the melody that becomes increasingly complex, unclassifiable, dense, and slippery, awkward to memorize but perfectly set among the heavy guitars that at times verge on stoner, progressive, industrial, brit pop, trip hop... etc.
A detailed description of the tracks would be heresy, the album must be listened to from start to finish without stopping at the first listen... at least a couple of spins in the player are necessary to appreciate the work on the arrangements, much more refined compared to previous albums, and chino moreno's quirky vocal lines may seem cunning, at times too sweet, but they are sophisticated like grandmama's crochet work, and to me, they recall the audacity of Mr. mike patton in his more accessible groups (see faith no more, lovage, peeping tom).
For the old fans, perhaps the album might seem excessively expanded, but for those who do not stop at the first chords of my own summer it will be a revelation...
...music to travel through the metropolitan night without a destination...
One of the best tracks on the album.
Surely this atrocity is the worst thing ever conceived by Chino and company.
I could compare the latest effort from Deftones to a pill that induces emotions that seem entirely genuine or utterly fake.
The band has partially abandoned the elements of the predecessor and drawn heavily from the experiments of White Pony.
This time the change of direction is somewhat more pronounced than in the previous self-titled album.
A work that is not very fast and driven but calmer, more thoughtful, and quite engaging, a must-buy for lovers of experimental rock and nu sounds.
Delgado, the keyboardist, manages to create dreamlike atmospheres where Chino’s voice sings like a long lament, sometimes melancholic, other times angry.
I feel like saying it’s better this way, S.N.W. lives with its own soul and in its thousand facets cannot undergo sorts of comparisons.