Meshuggah played at Irving Plaza last night, and it was insane. These guys are just flawless technicians when it comes to their instruments, and it absolutely boggles my mind. But I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself, because part of the reason their performance had such an impact on me, was probably the stark contrast between them and the opening act. So let me start from there.

Hemlock took the stage at 8:00 and proceeded to bludgeon their way through about half an hour of mind-numbingly simple party-thrash, if such a thing exists. Their singer/bassist put more emphasis on making devil horns and pulling on his own dreadlocks, than he did on actually playing his instrument. I suppose it’s somewhat excusable, since the bass was mostly inaudible anyway, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who had grown tired of his antics by the time he insisted that 10 more people join the mosh pit, or when he started his own chant of “Hem-lock, hem-lock, hem-lock …” that no one felt like joining in on. It was fitting that the audience participation consisted of laughing in unison with the last song’s campy “ha-ha-ha-ha” riff, and holding up our middle fingers as prompted.

When Meshuggah came on around 9:00, there was no obnoxious stage banter, fist-pumping, or crowd-baiting. They just launched into their set at full throttle without an introduction of any kind. Their colossal 8-string guitars sounded monstrous yet crisp as they navigated the ridiculously technical rhythms of behemoth riffs. Lead vocalist Jens Kidman seemed to be suspended in water as he loomed out over the crowd, somehow managing to scream in time with the polyrhythmic insanity that was going on. These guys’ talent is other-worldly. I’m sure part of the crowd were a little confounded and unsure what to make of them, but the rest of us were in total awe.

Their setlist featured a few songs from their new album obZen, including the mind-bending “Bleed,” a 7-minute lesson in dexterity that must be drummer Tomas Haake’s double bass equivalent of doing 500 push-ups. The opening riff in that song feels like fast-revolving gears of a machine that has somehow learned to breathe, gradually inhaling and exhaling with the pitch bends. Jeff and I were discussing whether or not it would even be possible to pull off a song like that live, especially with the mechanical precision of the studio recording. Apparently it is possible after all.

I think Irving Plaza is an ideally-sized venue for Meshuggah. Their sound is too big for a cramped nightclub, but their surgical finesse would be totally lost in a stadium. The sound in there was perfect, and I don’t think any one of them missed a note. These guys reign supreme as the undisputed titans of the chaotic groove - a guitar apocalypse that’s somehow grounded with a steady backbeat. If you ever get a chance to check them out live, it is not to be missed. Seriously.

Also, apparently they were opening for Ministry last night. I don’t know, I left after Meshuggah’s metal lobotomy had sufficiently melted my brain and smeared it all over the inside of my skull like paste. Ahhhh.