The corpse painted figure on stage doesn't seem to know what to make of this tongue in cheek blurt. He appears discomfited by the fact that everyone else in the club finds amusement in it besides himself and his band mates. Quickly, he changes the subject. "This is a song from our new album," he states, naming off said song that, along with the name of the band announced earlier, is unintelligible beneath the forced death metal grunts of this trio's ringleader.

After a half hour of listless mosh pit activity the band retires back to a more comfortable level of anonymity in the dressing room, thus making way for the more challenging mayhem incurred by Candiria. Candiria, as much as any band from Meshuggah on to Dream Theater, is responsible for raising the bar of musical integration in the realm of heavy metal, circa 2001.

Fusion has been around for quite some time now. More than thirty years have elapsed since Miles Davis breached the dam and sent fluent streams of cool jazz flooding down upon the stagnating pools of isolated genre rock. Following a decade of legitimate cross pollenated exploration, fusion ultimately found itself subjugated to the backwaters of elevator music, a crude mockery of latter day Steely Dan filtered through Grover Washington. Sad.

Later, the technical demands of jazz inspired and were incorporated by a league of "progressive" guitarists from Al Dimeola to Eddie Van Halen. The artistic advance of this new vanguard of rock fusion proved to be as static in development as any subgenre of music since disco. Which makes the current rash of hardcore fusion bands all the more pleasantly alarming. For all the virtuosity of the Eighties thrash of Metallica or the modern chops of tonight's demonic show opener, Cryptopsy, all the major musical elements have historically been good old fashioned heavy metal. Then, just a couple of years ago, an inexplicable deluge of jazz-informed hardcore sprang forth from nothingness, spearheaded by the likes of Dillinger Escape Plan, the aforementioned Meshuggah, and tonight's guests, Candiria.

After a string of independent albums culminating in 1999's "Process of Self Improvement", Candiria have finally found the benefactor they deserve in Century Media Records. Subsequent to a vicious pummeling of his drum kit, percussionist Ken Schalk elaborates on the band's newfound success. "Century Media's like a step up. MIA had a lot of hope, but it was just such a low priority for the owner. It was almost like a small hobby or tax write-off. By the time July of 2000 rolled around we were out on the road with Dillinger [Escape Plan] and Isis and we got the call from our manager: "MIA is about to close in two weeks." We were happy, because it was a chance for us to break free."

In line at the merch booth for his own band, vocalist Carley Coma succinctly concurs. "They're treating us like royalty," he muses in his best British accent, which is frankly far less convincing than the All American anger he conveys while barking around the stage, evoking such wisdom as "Rip through the herds/ lost flock/ Pieces of substance/ the keys that will unlock." He's perfected everything from the slow burn of a sludge rock enthusiast to the hysterical shrieks of a suicide bomber. And he spans the full range of those talents in the space of each and every song, if possible.

Yes, Candiria have eloped with the daughter of Chaos, and in time brought order to her fortuitous ways. And yet it's been some time since the mere juxtaposition of musical genres has excited the members of this adventurous group. "Going back to our first album, "Serialistic Fantasy", it was a much more immature representation of our vision because we were a lot younger as musicians and songwriters. Personally, I think [last year's] "Process of Self Development" was kind of scattered. There were a lot of weird emotions going on along with us trying to make an album happen. ["300 Percent Density"] is where "Beyond Reasonable Doubt" [their second effort] left off. "Process of Self Development" was kind of on a different tangent. I would say it's a bit long winded. We over indulged ourselves."

Ten thousand number two pencils have been at work disputing that notion since "Process…" was unleashed on an exclusive group of fans and unwary critics. While "300 Percent Density" is a notable improvement on the seamless integration of hardcore, jazz and hip hop first alluded to on it's predecessor, "Process of Self Development" nevertheless constituted a major development in the synthesis of jazz-metal fusion. The new record merely signals a more refined and understated representation of that same musical vision. Or, as Ken puts it, "This new album is a lot more solidified. It has a really strong, solid foundation to it, yet it's still really eclectic. We went overboard in trying to explore ourselves as musicians on this one. We take rhythmic ideas and explorations to new heights. A lot of the parts are explored more in multiple time signatures before the actual loop would repeat. In other words, four or five bars with different time signatures and then it would start over again."

Ken's focus has not at all been distracted by the vast quantities of booze and weed floating around the dressing room facilities this evening. On the contrary, as weary and wasted as he looks tonight, his enthusiasm for not only his own band's music but the inspirations of his youth is largely reinvigorating. By the time we break off our interview in order for him to play didgeridoo on Cryptopsy's "Screams Go Unheard", Ken looks ready to go another round with the angel of death himself.

And I guess that's part of being in the zone as a musician. Confidence can spring a player to new heights of dominant creativity, an unshakable self knowing that change will result in strength, not weakness. Success, not failure. "Once you understand the feel of music, to not be afraid to express yourself without fear of error, that's the trick. When you get beyond that point where you're not afraid to make a mistake to express yourself, that's about as intense as you can be. You're out there on stage, playing a standard jazz tune, which people have heard by many different artists, and you're now interpreting it in your own way. The people are there listening to you interpret [the song], and they're not afraid to hear you make a mistake. Which is why you can't be afraid to make a mistake. That's why it's called improvisation."

Improvisation. There are a lot of "artists" out there winging it, but usually that means coasting on prior success. Candiria are as yet on the upswing of an illustrious potential, and the future is only as broad as the narrow minds of fans forced to choose between the inane pop of Janet Jackson and the formulaic angst of today's death metal camp. On the other hand, how many multiplatinum records do you remember Miles Davis hoisting between the Birth of Cool and the Death of Bebop? I've a feeling Candiria will be just as content with the lack of tangible accolades.