The Dillinger Escape Plan
Under The Running Board

THE REVIEW

Everything originated from Hardcore: as often happens to those who want to musically propose an over-the-top force and "Border Line" attitude, the history of Dillinger Escape Plan begins with that intransigent burst of blind fury on which they will generate a particular and dazzling sound that will make noise in just a few years.

1996: five daredevils, Dimitri Minakakis on vocals, Chris Pennie on drums, Ben Weinman and Derek Brantley on guitars, and bassist Adam Doll ignite North, New Jersey, under the moniker Arcane. From the start, their attitude is their added weapon: the live performance of Arcane is already fiery, and all this greatly contributes to the word of mouth that fuels and grows with each new concert of the band. The first interests from a label are inevitable: Now or Never Records welcomes them under its protective wing to record the six tracks of the self-titled demo "The Dillinger Escape Plan" (1997); oh yes, because in the meantime, the band changes its name and acquires its current one. There are few anecdotes about this, but it is certainly known that, in the same period, Brantley's departure occurred, replaced by John Fulton just before the tour. Things start to get really serious at this juncture; we are no longer talking about a group of friends forming a band in school, the tour in question dated 1997/98 is the first consecration of the band; The concerts are increasingly "destructive," and a certain evolution from their originally typical Hardcore sound goes hand in hand with the pricked ears of an "emissary" of Relapse Records who is struck and offers them a contract. In the same year (1998) "Under the Running Board" sees the light.

A blow behind the back. By betrayal. An unexpected assault that strikes for the speed of execution and the ferocity. This, in a few words, describes the mini in question. Three tracks that flow by in five minutes but leave an impression due to the skill with which the quintet wields their instruments and amazes. The one minute and fifty seconds of "The Mullet Burden" is the junction between Hardcore and Grind through jazz/fusion and bubbles of madness: sonic stop-and-gos, lightning-fast breaks, and female screams like in a horror movie. You don't even realize that you have moved on to a magnificent "Sand Box Magician", and indeed, the piece doesn't differ much from the previous one. Another ultra-technical episode, but certainly not among the memorable ones in Dillinger's discography. More varied, however, is "Abe the Cop", with its murderous dizzying rhythmic climbs and descents, mini breaks completely detached from the context, and disturbing brutality.

In short, a consolidation EP. A certainty.