<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Djent on vo.rs</title><link>https://vo.rs/tags/djent/</link><description>Recent content in Djent on vo.rs</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><copyright>This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Tue, 19 Sep 2023 09:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://vo.rs/tags/djent/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Meshuggah: The Swedish Machine That Bent Metal's Rhythm</title><link>https://vo.rs/encore/meshuggah/</link><pubDate>Tue, 19 Sep 2023 09:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://vo.rs/encore/meshuggah/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Somewhere in the far north of Sweden, in a university town where the winter dark lasts most of the day, four men spent the nineties working out how to make a metal riff feel like the floor was falling away beneath you. They called the band Meshuggah, and they ended up rewiring how a whole generation of heavy bands thinks about rhythm.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Meshuggah come from Umeå, a cold city on the Gulf of Bothnia, and they formed in 1987. That geography matters more than you would expect. Umeå is a long way from the melodic west-coast scene that made Swedish metal famous, and Meshuggah never sounded remotely like their compatriots. Where the Gothenburg sound built melody on top of aggression, Meshuggah went the opposite way entirely and stripped melody almost out of the equation, leaving rhythm, texture and a kind of mechanical menace. They are the great outliers of Swedish metal, and also its most influential export you have possibly never heard on the radio.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>