By Jesse Cataldo & Delia Paunescu

Deftones – Saturday Night Wrist – Maverick

Despite never having a major hit and never receiving much critical acclaim, The Deftones have been around for more than ten years. Their secret? Like their friends and sometimes collaborators in Tool, they’ve held on mostly by marginally more interesting than their peers. Coasting on this comfortable level just above mediocrity has helped them stay afloat as similar bands fell by the wayside. The Deftones have lived through two musical extinctions, the grunge fallout of the mid ’90s and the rap-metal collapse of the early ’00s. The band, which shares its chords but not it’s heart with both genres (although they’ve shed the rap by now), has continued to survive by displaying glints of promise in deeply flawed works – they keep that sliver of attention with the promise that they’re on the verge of something great. But a continuing theme of squandered opportunity is just as frustrating as it is intriguing, and Saturday Night Wrist wastes all its promise, giving the feeling that we’re following a breadcrumb trail that inevitably leads nowhere.2.5 Stars

IMA Robot – Monument to the Masses – Virgin Records

There are people in life that ooze coolness who go on to start bands that only further the cooness. IMA Robot, based out of Los Angeles (a place second to New York, of course) is one such example.

With a story typical in rock, IMA Robot was signed to Virgin Records after years of struggle. Now on their second album, Monument to the Masses, one hopes that the turmoil is past so they can continue to focus on their music.

They could easily be The Cars or The Talking Heads updated for this millennium. Frontman Alex Ebert provides that far-off, ethereal sound through his singing. There are bits of The Postal Service and even indie faves of Montreal. Yet IMA Robot’s sound is as complex as the feelings emoted in this album, especially on the single “Creeps Me Out”. There are stronger rock influences throughout the album but some songs are still gentle, mellow even.

Each song is different yet carries that je ne sais quoi that makes you repeat the album several times. Just skip over “The Beat,” which carries with it the typified punk beat of the late 90’s.2.5 Stars

Converge – No Heroes – Epitaph

Being a member of Converge has to be a lot like being stuck in the bus scene from Speed. You can’t slow down your music, because at lower speeds the furious guitar work doesn’t seem as impressive and the barked vocals and simplistic lyrics are basically naked. You can’t go faster because it’s physically impossible.

It seems paradoxical that the kind of hardcore presented on No Heroes and throughout Converge’s career – a modern fusion that’s swallowed up metal and gone tumbling down the side of mountain with it – is so fragile, but the abundance of slowed down tracks on the album prove it. While high-velocity rampages like “Bare My Teeth” and “Versus” may cause motion sickness, the speed and ferocity of their attack is vital, and slowed down attempts like the title track flounder in the wide open expanse of cheese-metal. The faster songs still thrash and kick with all the compelling violence of Jane Doe, but it’s apparent that Converge is doomed to work at those speeds.3 Stars

Mogwai – Zidane OST – Pias

Douglas Gordon and Phillipe Parreno’s Zidane, A 21st Century Portrait – a ninety minute film of a soccer match filmed entirely from through the French player’s eyes – is one of those contentious pieces of modern art that’s so divisive because it hinges on so very little. It’s easy to see what irks detractors, with the entire draw of the film being its strange concept. But whether it’s a hollow conceit wrapped around an empty center or not should have no effect on Zidane the soundtrack- which is supplied entirely by Scottish band Mogwai. By providing a supplement that’s equally hollow, they seem determined to prove that it is.Zidane functions only as background music, which is fair considering it’s a soundtrack. It also strives to capture the sound of a soccer game, but it sounds more like Mogwai watching a soccer game – zoning out in front of the TV as their amps reverberate absentmindedly, getting up to go to the bathroom, taking a break for snacks. Not literally of course, but the presentation reeks of half-assed improvisation. The result here generally sums up most Americans’ view of soccer, 90 minutes of interminable dullness broken up by bouts of confusing, underwhelming excitement. 2 Stars