Dälek, Rothko, Nov. 30, 2004
Dälek make the angriest music in existence today. Angrier than Wolf Eyes, Merzbow, dead prez, Paris and The Great Kat going at each other with chainsaws. They’re angry at hip-hop, they’re angry at metal and they’re angry at noise, so they try to kill all of them at once. No wonder their only fans are Decibel magazine’s core demographic. This is quite possibly the only band in the world that could make a record with Faust and have it end up sounding less hard than their usual stuff. They’re angry that everybody forgets that Jesus was black, but fuck it because Christianity will steal your soul anyway.
When you listen to a Dälek record, you only pick up half of the rage. You can’t tell that part of the wall of noise is coming from DJ Still blowing air into the needle as he scratches a record. Or that MC Dälek might weigh 300 lbs, and he’s wearing an XXXL Ol’ Dirty Bastard (R.I.P.) t-shirt that’s tight on him. You can’t see the sweat pouring down his face. You can’t feel the bass in your chest, feet and nose (well, maybe you can, if you spent much, much more money on your speakers than I did.) You can’t see how confused hipsters who came just for the free Red Stripe are attempting to dance to this music. Because you can’t dance to this music. You can only cower.
Scott Seward wrote a really great review of the last Dälek album in the Voice. Check it out here.