Deftones
White Pony
(Maverick)

     One listen to the new, much-lauded Deftones disc will leave you wondering just what they would do had reverb never been invented.  Verily, Chino Moreno’s psychotic vocals appear to accumulate more and more echo with each song, provoking concern as to whether or not the heft of White Pony was recorded in a cave.  A second listen to this over-produced, over-glorified wad of tripe will leave you wondering why aggressive rock has to be so damned heavy-handed and melodramatic.
     Musically, Chino and the boys seem to have turned their backs on the rawer, more lo-fi vibe of past records such as Around the Fur in favor or a chunkier, bassed-out sound which will certainly sit better with the masses of hormone-crazed, Korn-fed teenagers that will eat this up like ambrosia.  Creed this isn’t, but the Deftones definitely seem to be rolling down the River Styx to a Hades of Arena Rock—but, hey, who cares, as long as the t-shirts are selling?
     The guitar riffs all coalesce predictably into one big, grumbling tummy of sound, which is bad enough except that Chino keeps croaking out lines like “I taste you much better off teeth of white skin on red leather.”  It’s at about that point that White Pony has you reaching for your revolver—either the Beatles record or a handgun to put yourself out of your misery.
      No, no, no.  The record isn’t that poor, but the best moments are either borrowed (i.e. when Maynard Keenan of Tool lends some professionalism to “Passenger”), or too few and far between, like when the band slows down and explores some melody on “Teenager” and “Change.”  In the end, it’s too little, too late to save this pony.

By Casey Lombardo
Long Beach Union

Originally printed 8.14.00

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