Thirty Days of Music- Part XX

I was going to attempt to craft a hilarious denunciation of the haemorrhoid on the arse of music that is the genre of nu-metal only to find out that Chris "Down with the Fatness" Krovatin had already articulated my thoughts on matter far more concisely and wittily than I could. The author of "Heavy Metal and You" writes:

"I was there. It was awful! Awful, I tell you. Lord knows how we even survived it. The worst parts of metal and the worst parts of hip-hop, meshed together to form a lumbering force of adolescent rage that threatened to tear us apart. Everyone cutting their hair, or worse, spiking it up and dyeing it blue. Album covers more heavily inspired by manga comics and Elemental Skateboards ads than by Satan or Vietnam. And “Nookie,” Jesus. It was our generation’s great shame, the way that Bon Jovi and Winger must have been to those before us. I know. I was there.

That said: nu-metal produced some interesting results during its short reign over the extreme-music world. Yes, it’s easy to simply dismiss the genre entirely, but to do so would be forsaking the few precious things that the movement spawned, cultural gems we must cling so as not to admit that we completely wasted the late ’90s and early 2000s getting tribal tattoos."

But for every Slipknot, with their swelling body of full, frenetic drums and percussionists, snarling raps and electronic flourishes, and every Korn, all clicking slap bass and staggeringly versatile vocals, there is a heinous aural atrocity of a band that almost nullifies the influence of the former. A pustule that seeks to undermine the authority other acts had tried to afford nu-rave. A turd.


A turd.

Dear Fred Durst,

I will try moderately hard to find the good in you, mainly on account of the fact that the moral philosophy of Humanism posits the notion that human dignity and concerns should be given predominance in life.

We both have a predilection for white Adidas Superstar runners, and although I’ve never admitted it to anyone, I’m secretly quite proud of our footwear affinity. Also, you are responsible for “Crack Addict”, the official theme song of Wrestlemania XIX, one of the greatest Wrestlemanias I have seen, though this probably can be attributed more to Brock Lesnar and his ridiculous shooting star press than you.

Yet Humanism also calls for the primacy of rationality, and the rational mind cannot but concede that you are a ridiculous, egotistical, petulant human being. Admittedly, your puerile outbursts* do hold a certain comedic value, but you are a terrible rapper with lyrics such as “maybe I’ll go eat worms” and “stinky finger”, and your band are so woeful that even Megadeth think they’re shit.

Many thanks,

Pee.


From the ages of fifteen to seventeen I suffered from an imbalance of the humours. That is to say I was somewhat unhinged, and angry, and had a propensity to throw things because it was for me, at the time, the only perceivable way of achieving catharsis. I threw glasses of water, I threw bowls of cereal, and once I even threw a belt. But eventually I realised that I wasn't going to be able to get away with throwing things forever. So now, whenever I feel so angry I fear I may self-implode, I don't throw things. I also don't scream into a pillow because I tried that once and it really hurt my head. Instead, I put my headphones on, make sure I have enough slack in the cord, and thrash my head so hard I'm at serious risk of spraining the muscles in my neck. If this conjures an amusing mental image, you should see me rapping along to "Real Niggaz Don't Die" sitting up in bed like a hospital patient.

And so although Limp Bizkit are the most repugnant discharge from nu-metal, which is, in itself generally an abomination, they provide me with a song that served as perfect head thrashing material for when the Cheerios aren't to hand. Plus, it's ridiculously fun when you're a well brought up, middle class, spindly, soft, posh-voiced girl to shriek things like "I pack a chainsaw/I'll skin your ass raw/And if my day keeps going this way I just might/Break your fucking face tonight". I make no excuses for this song choice, I think it's brilliant.

Day twenty is a song you listen to when you're angry, and the video is fucking hilarious.

* telling the audience at Woodstock to shove their Birkenstocks up their ass, referring to Slipknot fans as "fat, ugly kids", canceling a show because he had a sprained ankle, being a midget.