

Nobody could get you that riled up in that specific a way.

No other band delivered quite the dancefloor-filling shove they did. What’s missed in this view is that Limp Bizkit were actually the 1966 England team of such things. Bungle, Limp Bizkit were – and continue to be – seen by many nu-metal’s primal, base mode, where thinking was done largely with fists. Despite having a genuinely innovative guitarist in Wes Borland, whose vision for his genre-straddling band was probably more in line with bands like Primus, Faith No More and Mr.

If Deftones represented something deeper about nu-metal, Limp Bizkit represented something entirely at the other end of the scale. For Korn, it was a perfect jumping off point, and with Blind, they started on a trajectory that would see them become one of the most influential bands of the decade. Metallica, Pantera and Sepultura had maintained, thanks to their street-level grit. Where some said the shift in the early ’90s had killed metal, what they actually meant was it had moved the goalposts away from the glitz of glam, and toward something more street. So too had metal been heavy and sludgy, but not really in this manner (the only notable seven-string user at the time had been, um, Steve Vai). Grunge had been pained, but not as chillingly as this. That cymbal tap at the start, the weird chords, those monstrous, seven-string riffs, and then Jonathan bellowing ‘ Are you ready?!’ – it was all something new. With their Adidas tracksuits, dreadlocks and, in Jonathan Davis, “a fucking scarecrow of a singer” (not our words, the words of guitarist James ‘Munky’ Schaffer), even by the scruffy alt.rock and grunge standards of the early ’90s they were not what you expect from a rock band. There wasn’t really anything like Korn in metal full-stop. Even with primers like RATM and Anthrax, when Korn’s self-titled debut hit in 1994, there wasn’t really anything else like it.
