Building a better nu-metal

System of a Down nail down a Korn-y genre's finest moment.

By Will York

ABOUT FIVE YEARS ago, nu-metal had such a strong vice grip on the music business, it seemed hopeless to believe it would ever go away. This was after the rape 'n' roll atrocities of Woodstock '99, after the release of four Korn albums, and right around the time of Limp Bizkit's Chocolate Starfish and the Hotdog-Flavored Water (Interscope) – an album whose title alone was a telltale sign that something was wrong. Yet the labels were still rolling out new contenders on a near-weekly basis, and consumers kept lapping it up.

My most memorable nu-metal moment came when I was dragged to a roadside strip club by my ride on the way back from a concert in Sacramento. It was a gnarly scene: skanky, bottomless strippers bumping and grinding to songs like Disturbed's "Stupefied" and the Bizkit's "Keep Rollin'," while loner customers nursed bottles of Sharp's and O'Doul's. Gross. As a straight American male, I've never felt more ashamed, and it's hard to imagine a more fitting soundtrack than those songs.

It's almost unfair to associate System of a Down with this sort of grossness, except to state how different they are from their supposed peers. Their recent album, Mesmerize (Sony), could be viewed either as nu-metal's crowning achievement or as a sign of how far this band has come in terms of transcending its origins. They played Ozzfest in the late '90s, co-headlined the Sno-Core tour in 2000, and still appear to benefit from the genre's captive, Clear Channel-imprisoned fan base. According to Amazon.com, "customers who bought titles by System of a Down also bought titles by ... Slipknot, Korn, Disturbed, and Godsmack."

Still, it's been clear, going back to their 1998 self-titled debut, that System of a Down are smarter, weirder, and at least potentially more progressive than any of their peers. I didn't like much of that album, but it had enough promising moments to interest me in hearing their next one. That was 2001's Toxicity (Sony), which had a handful of surprisingly melodic, melodramatic political anthems, such as "Aerials," "Chop Suey," and the title song. Elsewhere, though, Toxicity was all too quick too descend into mediocre stomp-metal riffs, stupid growling vocals, and preachy, sub-Rage Against the Machine political lyrics. Many fans seem to consider it an unsurpassable high point for the band. I beg to differ. Around the time of Toxicity's release, I interviewed lead vocalist Serj Tankian for another publication and was surprised at how thoughtful, soft-spoken, and obviously intelligent the man was, in contrast to some of the bellowing, simplistic tirades he'd let loose on record. It was hard not to conclude that there was some dumbing-down going on in the SoaD camp.

Some of that simplemindedness works its way into Mesmerize's lead single, "BYOB," which was all over MTV and commercial rock radio this summer. "Why do they always send the poor?" goes the song's impassioned antiwar refrain. Why? Because they can. That's not a good rhetorical question – it's just irritating. Musically, though, "BYOB" is an interesting song, – sort of a mini "Bohemian Rhapsody" for the post-Slayer, post-gangsta rap era, with a sense of melody that's miles beyond anything a band like Rage Against the Machine ever attempted. Plus, the song's basic call-to-arms, stop-the-shopping-spree message is hard to argue with. It sets the tone for the litany of antiwar, antigovernment, anticonsumerism sentiments that make up the rest of the album.

One of the most impressive things about Mesmerize is how nuanced much of it is, both musically and lyrically. It ain't quite Phil Ochs, but SoaD's sociopolitical commentary isn't just lip service or empty sloganeering, either – the type of mindless babble that typically gets rewarded with wide-eyed comments along the lines of, "Look, this big, famous rock band is mentioning all these serious issues! That's heavy!" There are shades of gray to go along with the band's black-and-white declarations, especially as the album progresses toward its increasingly somber, lamenting conclusion. "You and me will / All go down in history with a / Sad Statue of Liberty / And a generation that couldn't agree," they sing on "Sad Statue," and if the words don't exactly leap of the page, they resonate with a genuine melancholy as sung by Tankian and guitarist Daron Malakian. Meanwhile, the closing track, "Lost in Hollywood" – the second of two straight Hollywood-themed songs – hammers home another main focus of the album, which is a feeling of disgust for the mindlessness of present-day pop culture, of which Hollywood (Malakian's hometown) is such a perfect symbol. "All you bitches put your hands in the air and wave 'em like you just don't care," he sarcastically commands, before concluding, "You should have never trusted Hollywood."

One could argue that System of a Down benefited from a similar sort of mindlessness: the nu-metal craze. Mesmerize proves they're better than that. Maybe the slow death of that genre made it easier for them to ditch their vestigial bad habits – it's hard to say for sure. Whatever the case, they've put together an album of legitimately heavy, challenging music that somehow managed to top the Billboard Top 200 albums chart, despite the inclusion of all sorts of unpopular ingredients, from Eastern European-sounding guitar riffs and tricky time signatures to pungent two- and three-part vocal harmonies that have more in common with the Bulgarian Women's Choir than with anything else in pop music these days. It's an encouraging sign, and I look forward to seeing where it leads.

System of a Down play with the Mars Volta and Hella Sat/8, 7 p.m., Oakland Arena, Oakl. $32.50-$45. www.ticketmaster.com.