Someone tried to convince me once that 311 was deep. We argued and argued, but I insisted that they were not deep. Likable, entertaining, enjoyable, yes; deep, no. After more than a handful of evenings in my basement with 311, I've come to believe that they possess a certain kind of depth unique to those bands that wanna fuse all the hot juicy riffs with any other old kool thing they hear. The ones that pop into my mind are Living Color, Incubus, the Chili Peppers, and these boys, Zebrahead.

That's not to say that Zebrahead sounds like any of those guys. Ali Tabatabee rips it up with Zack De La Rocha-style raps combined with haughty (dare I say haughty?) guitar riffs that work a broad range from reggae to-- that's right-- metal. But my question is this: is a guitar riff a beautiful thing? I think so. It's beautiful like the sun going down over a lonely Pacific island; beautiful like the face of a child eating an ice cream sundae... the splendor... and there are some beautiful riffs on Waste of Mind, perhaps not quite so beautiful as the aforementioned examples, but beautiful in an energetic, catchy, distorted way.

I wonder sometimes what Ali Tabatabee is saying 'cause he raps so darn fast, but the kids were kind enough to enclose a lyric sheet. I actually went through and read it to provide you, faithful Pitchfork reader, with a well-informed review. I found lyrics that were clever and occasionally downright funny, but pretty average-- average like a fat lady on a lonely Pacific island eating an ice cream sundae. But that's okay. Just 'cause they write lyrics that are pure pedestrian, doesn't mean they're not "deep," man! Remember 311? Yeah, you get it now. It's all coming together, eh?

Zebrahead have depth in their pungent male energy plowing through pop-metal fusion. There's depth in the good-natured jamming that this album captures. And of course, there's depth in my anus. So now it's time to probe deeper... Oh, Pedro.

-James P. Wisdom