On first listen, the sound on Obzen, Meshuggah's sixth full-length, is startling, not for its trademark rapid-fire key and tempo changes, or for the intricate, insanely knotty riffs that careened over 2002's Nothing or 2005's Catch Thirty-Three. Instead, it is the rampaging charge that leads off the set on "Combustion," a balls-out sprint that recalls the band's earlier catalog albums like Contradictions Collapse, Destroy Erase Improve, and even Chaosphere. Power, focus and attention to the bone-crushing power are at the center of Obzen. That said, it loses nothing in terms of the band's keen focus of musical or technical innovation or drummer Tomas Haake's songwriting. What it does leave behind is some of the mathy quick-change-for-the-sake-of-it annoyances that were more a show-off of athletic prowess than actual compositional tropes. The melodic orchestration of Catch Thirty-Three has all but disappeared, and in its place is a direct, almost machine-like sense of communication. What's most remarkable is the live drum kit work by Haake. He's constant and startling -- the completely crazy bass pedal work on "Bleed" would leave most drummers in the dust. You have to wonder, since the last album featured so many triggered laptop tooled drums. Again: power, compositional ethics, and musical acumen are all tied to one thing, building a foundation that just gets wider, deeper, and more intense as the album wears on. Check the frenetic slash and burn ethos in "Pineal Gland Optics," where both guitars stagger their rhythmic attack keeping vocalist Jens Kidman on the money the whole time. It gives way to the unwound pummeling drum and guitar solo riff that introduces "Pravus," with its sense of taut dynamics, hair-trigger tensions, and an explosiveness that is literally unequaled. This is sheer attack metal, played by a band that has run from simplicity to excess and incorporated them both into a record that is on a level with anything else they've done, even if not all the elements marry perfectly yet. Just get it. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
Though they probably never intended it to, Meshuggah's 2004 EP I -- featuring a single 21-minute song -- helped open new possibilities at a crucial career juncture for the long-heralded Swedish originals. That's because, for all of the justified acclaim at having established a wholly unique and instantly recognizable sonic imprint, Meshuggah's recent efforts had started to seem a little tired and repetitive, leading some critics to accuse the band of treading water in a progressive death metal pool of its own creation. Fair assumption or not, the group wisely decided to replicate and extend that single-song strategy on 2005's appropriately named Catch Thirty-Three; although the reality that its virtually nonstop 47 minutes are in fact broken down into 13 sections could also be viewed as a not so elaborate ruse to disguise just another, typical Meshuggah LP. After all, many of those breaks are totally arbitrary (the first three, sub-two-minute tunes, for instance, offer no good reasons as to why they shouldn't have been labeled as one title) and a considerable number of subdivisions ("Autonomy Lost," "The Paradoxical Spiral," "In Death -- Is Life," "Personae Non Gratae," etc.) still find Meshuggah wailing away on that familiar template combining harsh vocals and nightmarish melodies over coarse, mechanically advancing, oddball tempos. However, it's also apparent that, by doing away with the rigid formality (real or perceived) of individual song breaks, the band has bolstered its confidence for exploring ambient sounds and quieter dynamics. "In Death -- Is Death" offers the prime example with its interspersed bouts of noise and silence, but the adventurousness continues over uncharacteristically melodic portions of "Dehumanization" and the mild case of electronics and programming (as well as robotic voices) heard on "Mind's Mirrors." And whatever your opinion about all of these conspiracy theories, there's no question that on "Shed," with its tribal percussion and whispered vocals, Meshuggah deliver a masterful career highlight. So, in conclusion, does all this mean that Catch Thirty-Three represents a radical shift for the band? Not quite, but it does take care to fulfill the expectations of longtime fans while breaking enough new ground to feel like a potential bridge to continuing innovation -- not treading water -- in the very near future. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia, All Music Guide
Though they probably never intended it to, Meshuggah's 2004 EP I -- featuring a single 21-minute song -- helped open new possibilities at a crucial career juncture for the long-heralded Swedish originals. That's because, for all of the justified acclaim at having established a wholly unique and instantly recognizable sonic imprint, Meshuggah's recent efforts had started to seem a little tired and repetitive, leading some critics to accuse the band of treading water in a progressive death metal pool of its own creation. Fair assumption or not, the group wisely decided to replicate and extend that single-song strategy on 2005's appropriately named Catch Thirty-Three; although the reality that its virtually nonstop 47 minutes are in fact broken down into 13 sections could also be viewed as a not so elaborate ruse to disguise just another, typical Meshuggah LP. After all, many of those breaks are totally arbitrary (the first three, sub-two-minute tunes, for instance, offer no good reasons as to why they shouldn't have been labeled as one title) and a considerable number of subdivisions ("Autonomy Lost," "The Paradoxical Spiral," "In Death -- Is Life," "Personae Non Gratae," etc.) still find Meshuggah wailing away on that familiar template combining harsh vocals and nightmarish melodies over coarse, mechanically advancing, oddball tempos. However, it's also apparent that, by doing away with the rigid formality (real or perceived) of individual song breaks, the band has bolstered its confidence for exploring ambient sounds and quieter dynamics. "In Death -- Is Death" offers the prime example with its interspersed bouts of noise and silence, but the adventurousness continues over uncharacteristically melodic portions of "Dehumanization" and the mild case of electronics and programming (as well as robotic voices) heard on "Mind's Mirrors." And whatever your opinion about all of these conspiracy theories, there's no question that on "Shed," with its tribal percussion and whispered vocals, Meshuggah deliver a masterful career highlight. So, in conclusion, does all this mean that Catch Thirty-Three represents a radical shift for the band? Not quite, but it does take care to fulfill the expectations of longtime fans while breaking enough new ground to feel like a potential bridge to continuing innovation -- not treading water -- in the very near future. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia, All Music Guide
Within the realms of metal, few bands are more esoteric and left-brained than Meshuggah. These Swedes make music for clinically minded deconstructionists, and one really has to reduce Meshuggah's sound to its individual elements before seeing the overall picture. Nothing, their fourth full-length slab, only further cements their place as masterminds of cosmic calculus metal -- call it Einstein metal if you want -- and, to their credit, they're really the only ones to fall into said sub-subgenre. When odd riff cycles, robotic death vocals, neo-jazz chromatics, and mathematical songwriting are your primary weapons, it would seem easy to paint yourself into a corner creatively -- so where is Meshuggah to go after Destroy Erase Improve, the band's powerful statement of intent, and its follow-up, the suffocatingly violent and clattery Chaosphere? Well, besides being heavier -- guitarists Marten Hagstrom and Fredrik Thordendal used eight-string guitars to give extra growl to their off-kilter, occasionally dissonant chording -- the appropriately titled Nothing boasts more spacious arrangements, the jarring tempo and time shifts colliding with each other until the songs collapse on themselves like black holes (see "Glints Collide" and the seven-plus minutes of "Closed Eye Visual"). From there, light bends into "Nothing," the theme of the record rooted in existentialism and the psychic trauma it causes on the brain -- and so goes the cranium stretching, through "Straws Pulled at Random," "Spasm," and the creepily invigorating lunar strains of "Obsidian," all being anti-melodic, teeth-grinding jaunts into opaque mathematical regions, importing small amounts of Tool's psychedelia into the group's Death-by-way-of-Gang of Four sonic maelstrom. Nothing truly gives new meaning to the word heavy, redefining boundaries by pushing metal into the realms of abstract science; for those lucky enough to be tuned into Meshuggah's unique wavelength, the album, like all good art, tickles the subconscious while probing both the internal (the mind) and the external (space). And when Meshuggah explores, it's into uncharted territory. If only more metal bands could be so daring. ~ John Serba, All Music Guide
When the likes of Cannibal Corpse and Obituary came about and pleased every butt-rocking wannabe Satanist out there, a term such as "intellectual death metal" was only thought of as just an oxymoron. That was before Meshuggah came out and outsmarted all these suburban burnouts. Sure "Chaosphere" flaunts the flaming guitar solo every now and then, and don't forget their tendency of trying to come across as all dark and evil. But what Meshuggah have over all the carbon copy death metal acts out there is that they focus primarily on knowing how to play their instruments and segue tempo changes rather than trying to outspeed and outgrowl everybody. Seriously, each song will have one guessing on which direction the band is going to take next. Who would have thought that there would be a band that could respark a genre that was long thought overdone after the second Napalm Death record? ~ Mike DaRonco, All Music Guide
With Destroy Erase Improve, Meshuggah shattered any preconceived notions about what death, thrash, and prog metal could be with one astoundingly accurate, calculated blow. The Swedish outfit managed to surpass their startlingly original, if relatively immature debut, Contradictions Collapse, with a record so pure in concept and execution, it borders on genius. Lyrical themes visualize the integration of machines with organisms as humanity's next logical evolutionary step, while the music backing it up is mind-bogglingly technical, polyrhythmic math metal -- the work of highly skilled men with powerful instruments. While the idea looks unwieldy on paper, Meshuggah handles it with a balance of raw guts and sheer brainpower, weaving hardcore-style shouts amongst deceptively (and deviously) simple staccato guitar riffs and insanely precise drumming -- often with all three components acting in different time signatures. Guitarist Fredrik Thordendal adds an element of weirdness with Allan Holdsworth-style neo-jazz fusion leads that serve as melodic oases amidst the jackhammer rhythms. While such bold, challenging arrangements could result in a wank-fest or, even worse, a chaotic mess, Meshuggah carefully synchronizes their bludgeoning instrumentation, embracing minimalism without excess and playing to the power of the song so the listener isn't neck-deep in over-composed indulgences. As a result, "Future Breed Machine," "Suffer in Truth," and "Soul Burn" are mind-bogglingly profound, integrating body, mind, and soul into a violently precise attack, the point being that change can be extraordinarily difficult -- if not maddening -- but the results are transcendent. While industrial metallers Fear Factory have attempted to tackle similar themes, Meshuggah outclasses them on all fronts, proved by the stunning brilliance of Destroy Erase Improve. The album is a bona fide '90s classic, a record boasting ideas so well-balanced -- natural yet clinical, guttural yet intelligent, twisted yet concise -- it muscled simplistic subgenres out of the way and confidently pointed toward the future of metal. ~ John Serba, All Music Guide