Deftones videos sometimes feature smokin’ scene chicks (here and here), but I even dig the ones in which singer/non-actor Chino Moreno stars awkwardly (here) and the ones comprised wholly of concert footage. And I endorse the latter as an ace advertisement for Deftones’ always-killer live shows and the hot Mexican emo girls who attend them. And that’s just what we have for Diamond Eyes‘ fifth official video, “Beauty School” (above), with bonus backstage peeks and a few choice shout-outs by drummer Abe Cunningham: He flashes a DVD of Abel Ferrera’s King Of New York and dons a T-shirt from Minneapolis venue First Avenue (as he did two Fridays ago at Lollapalooza). That shirt + Cunningham makes me flashback to a 1996 Deftones show at First Avenue after which my face was punched into a different area code. I’ll never again cooperate when an angry jerk asks me to allow him a running start.

-ADF

The Deftones tour is now winding through Europe and winding up in Russia, where the scene chicks are super-hot and, according to porn, will do anal with little cajoling. Cough dates here.

Photo by Emily Di Frances

A few days before I crossed paths with the big Deftones and Dillinger Escape Plan tour last week, Deftones drummer Abe Cunningham told me that the band has only now emerged from years of intra-band discord and label battles. It kinda blew me away to hear that “it absolutely sucked” to be involved in the making of Saturday Night Wrist, a classic record which seems like the product of a thousand men’s pooled awesomeness, not of five embittered, isolated former friends (plus Bob Ezrin). The live shows from those fractious years gave no clue to their travails, either; they played awesomely killer always. Weird.

Cunningham’s words got me pumped to assess the newly happy, friendy, post-wake up call Deftones. The question: With no one to battle, would their blades grow dull? Does this band thrive on friction like fellow all-time raddest American bands Faith No More and Talking Heads? Are they poker-faced like other ego-rich Yank greats Slayer and Van Halen? Now that they are tight again, would their on-stage fury be sapped of its fuel?

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A dude could get used to the practice of semi-annually checking in with loud alternative rockers the Deftones. That’s the pattern at MetalSucks: Every other season, we pry into the personal and professional business of a band destined to be remembered as one of America’s all-time greatest (srs), the post-Cobain Faith No More and canonizer of real-head hall of fame acts like The Cardigans, Duran Duran, Suicidal Tendencies, and The Cure.

And the old Deftones — which, of course, were the young Deftones — seemed just as cocksure and drama-wracked as all those. However, this new, older Deftones is grooving smooth and hanging hard, said drummer Abe Cunningham in an epic gab with MS last week. (One never runs out of conversation topics with Deftones dudes.) Animated and way too modest, Cunningham talked me through even more Deftones details than I covered last time and last last time: The fun of recording awesome cover jams, their wake-up call when bassist Chi Cheng was seriously injured, his chemistry with Cheng’s replacement Sergio Vega and with singer Chino Moreno, their record deal then and now, and silly people like Helmet’s Page Hamilton and the big fat copycats in Shinedown.

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Alight guys, sorry I haven’t posted an article in a while, but I’m here now with something I think is kinda cool and rarely gets talked about in the metal world: Groove.

Some of you guys may know just how much I love a rhythm that grooves, something that just makes you want to bob your head to it, and there’s more to it than just getting playful with the accents or syncopating a beat. There are the more subtle aspects, the kind that sometimes don’t translate so well to recordings. I mean, what is groove exactly and what gives it that “feel”? Who in the band really affects the level of groove — is it just the drummer, the drummer and the bassist, or the band as a whole?

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It’s easy to be jaded after attending a billion or so live shows, but climbing the hill up to San Manuel Amphitheatre, the site of Cypress Hill’s MetalSucks co-sponsored SmokeOut festival, I was transformed into a gawking greenhorn. (I would soon be treated like one, as well.) Behind my rib cage,  calm battled with rising euphoria, and not only because I stood with a hefty joint in my shoe at the gates of a tri-county puff-athon on the nicest late-October Saturday ever; mostly, I was just tweaking to look in on a magnificent but savagely wounded band at this early stage of recovery. Yes, the SmokeOut would feature the Deftones, who have played around ten shows since an auto accident left their bassist, Chi Cheng, in a coma. And despite the puzzling news that to-be sixth album Eros had been shelved, the band already had been showing positive signs and seemed poised to reintroduce themselves via a violent new song (“Rocket Skates”) and a spritely, newly-slimmed singer (the gossip had Chino Moreno at anywhere between twenty and eighty pounds lighter). Exciting!

Two hours later, right before the Deftones took the stage, night had fallen, the denizens of the cheap seats waded ankle-deep in litter, and I was pissed off as shit.

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