There’s shows where people make it look too easy, and then there’s the Dillinger Escape Plan. Slap bang in the middle of the stage is a nice little coffee table and a couch, and upon that couch is Greg Puciato, reading a newspaper.
Close your eyes and it sounds like a normal Dillinger show, watch what’s going on and it’s Greg reclined, sipping tea and occasionally going “Hey did you know,” to the band, pointing at the paper, and saying they have a new album out soon like some homely performance piece, but more of a racket.
Through ‘Limerent Death’, ‘Milk Lizard’ and ‘Panasonic Youth’, Dillinger put on a masterclass, leaping on and over the humble furniture, getting all up in everyone’s faces – it seems those ridiculously tiny club shows have got them wound tighter than ever, back to playing the most intense of settings, and they’re unleashing it all at the festival. Eventually though, the living room has to be carted off and it returns to business as (unpredictable) usual.
Up against the big hitters, they show that you don’t need fancy effects or any of that lot, just a teacup and a few speakers to clamber on will do. There’s no one out there who do it like Dillinger.