Stage cleared of exuberance and body liquid, New Jersey mathcore calculators Dillinger Escape Plan scamper incessantly about a stage swathed in eerie spotlight, guitarists Ben Weinman and Jeff Tuttle hurling themselves suicidally from amplifiers and monitors, drum risers and eventually the stage itself, Greg Puciato's impeccably manicured mohawk later too devoured by the front few rows. Opener Farewell, Mona Lisa is imperially devastating, earbleed-inducing, drifting in and out of consciousness and harmony, discordance consummated by mind-mangling guitars and intermittent melancholy. Fix Your Face follows, throttling wandering attention spans, strangling daydreams under the glum lights dangling overhead. Milk Lizard, stripped of synthetic brass section sounds like the greatest bona fide hit single never to have strolled into the hit parade, disguised as Billy Talent primed to tear Chad Kroeger's smarmy smile from his bewhiskered face. Sugar Coated Sour is disconcertingly proficient, Puciato barking away, chewing on the sanity of the few hundred congregated before wave upon wave of the blistering vitriol tonight spewed forth. Gold Teeth On A Bum, drawn from latest LP Option Paralysis, upon which the quintet heavily rely, flutters feverishly amidst melody and mania, before the off-kilter balladry of Widower lowers the beats per minute, augmenting pulse rates all the while, Weinman chopping to ebony and ivory virtuosity. A rampant Sunshine the Werewolf, lifted from swampish 2004 stunner Miss Machine, and a devastatingly concise encore instill an irresistible sense of just how invigorating an act have just squealed, shrieked and sworn within the concrete walls of the monstrosity that is the O2 Academy Bristol tonight.
