All Systems Go: SOAD’s Mental Metal
By Adam Bregman

TheStranger.com, WA
Sept 29 2005

System of a Down
w/the Mars Volta, Hella
Wed Oct 5, KeyArena, 7 pm, $31.50-$44, all ages.

In the insular world of mainstream metal where thousands of bands
look and sound exactly alike, and use the same vaguely Satanic font
for their band logos, such factors as original concepts, progressive
politics, and ethnic influences are not at a premium. One outfit that
has strayed from the conventional at every turn is System of a Down,
perhaps the freakiest group to ever sell millions of records.

Four Armenian dudes from L.A. sporting funky goatees, SOAD first
came onto the scene in the late ’90s, at the same time as nu-metal
was spreading like bad acne amongst pierced mall rats. They were
originally lumped in as a niche act along with bands hidden in idiotic
masks, but broke off from that pack by virtue of actually writing
intelligent songs.

Everything seemed to coagulate perfectly on 2001’s stunning Toxicity,
a record that came along like a fierce kick to the loins. Featuring
“Chop Suey!” and “Toxicity,” the most spastic singles to ever be
played on radio continuously, Toxicity was wholly noncommercial and
ferociously berserk. Pulverizing crunch chords piled up like giant
steel planks, their peculiar time changes could throw an elephant off
balance, and genuinely melodic parts were trapped between blistering
metal anthems. Toxicity also showcased power drill-like beats,
drunken clown rhythms, and a delicate balance of fury and melody,
which the band pulls off exquisitely. Another key component: singer
Serj Tankian’s sometimes screwball, but more often dramatic, vocals
that are squarely in the metal tradition of operatic exaggeration.

In “Deer Dance,” one of Toxicity’s indignant protest songs, the lyrics
were inspired by the police riots at the 2000 Democratic National
Convention, when mounted cops cleared thousands of protestors with
a flurry of rubber bullets. (“Beyond the Staples Center/You can see
America/With its tired poor avenging disgrace/Peaceful loving youth
against the brutality/Of plastic existence.”) The brutal chorus
“Pushing little children/With their fully automatics/They like to
push the weak around” pummels the listener to the ground like a
testosterone-laden LAPD thug.

One of the main issues creeping into all their releases, though,
is an awareness of the Armenian Genocide (1895-1915), when Ottoman
Turks killed some 1.5 million Armenians. The U.S. government has
never recognized the genocide for fear of upsetting its military ally,
Turkey, whose government to this day denies it ever happened. The band
puts real force behind this key Armenian-American issue by organizing
large benefits for the Armenian National Committee of America, which
lobbies Congress to officially recognize the atrocity.

As SOAD’s popularity has grown exponentially, the band has made no
concessions in their music or their politics. Their latest record
Mezmerize, the first of a two-disc set (the second half, Hypnotize,
arrives in November), is another radical slice of odd-tasting pie.

Mezmerize isn’t all social critique-take the blatantly silly “Old
School Hollywood,” which was apparently inspired by actor Tony Danza
cutting in line at a baseball game. But then there’s the fiery payback
anthem, “Revenga,” and the puzzling “Radio/Video,” which have plenty
of hooks, though SOAD drop wacky harmonies, perverse screeching,
and circus chord progressions whenever possible.

Beyond their blasts of thunder and raining glass, SOAD once again
showcase amazingly sharp lyrics. Heshers concerned with politics
rarely venture beyond the issues of censorship, legalizing pot, and
the evils of Christianity. More in the spirit of punk rock, SOAD
are truly outraged by the millions of people forced to live below
poverty in one of the world’s richest nations. Their current hit,
Mezmerize’s “B.Y.O.B,” is about how those same poor folk are shipped
off to die in Iraq. With its repeated howl of “Why do they always
send the poor?/Why don’t presidents fight the war?” this single is a
rare detour from the regular sort of moronic mouthing off one expects
from Mallternative radio.

One of the album’s strangest cuts is “Cigaro,” which rips along at
the pace of a frenzied hardcore punk tune. The song’s concept is
fairly simple, comparing war and global politics to a cock-sizing
contest. However, SOAD may be the first metal band to make fun of
machismo, tie the idea to world leaders committing genocide, and then
put forth the whole argument in a song that manages to be zany and
bone crunching at the same time. Bursting with new-fangled ideas like
insane, pissed-off physicists, System of a Down simply stand alone.