It’s not that I care…

White Pony is a blistering battering glitz-coke assassin dazzle down the darkest alleys of half-made-up mind in sheets of rain and smoke-ring mirror magazine flash photography and foggy bedroom dalliance with devil-selves in binge collapse backward into gaudy memories of what tomorrow blinks past on radio frequency dial me into something strange and mysterious and drag remains through street carp knife party forever.

Looking back at the haze of high school, I can see the stark cover art of Deftones’ seminal album high atop the apparent Mt. Rushmore of music I was really into back then. There are small, oddly shaped spaces all over this record that still give me bone-deep chills (Chino Moreno’s breathy “Check the claws” lyric on Korea, for example), fleeting moments that reveal how far off the map this band was racing in those years. This is gravity-defying trapeze metal for the new millennium. I’m less convinced of the more recent stuff, but for a while Deftones were without a doubt among the most innovative bands in America.

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