Korn / Limp Bizkit @ SSE Hydro, 14 Dec
Fifteen years after its peak, it's plainly obvious to see the appeal of nu-metal, and particularly of its kingpins. Their ability to tap into a visceral angst, to reach a certain swathe of angry and disillusioned teenagers, is a masterclass in empathy. There is no condescension; just a feeling of collective understanding and a chance to lose yourself in the spectacle and noise of very loud rock music.
Limp Bizkit are up first, and as soon as the curtain drops revealing Fred Durst and co. brimming with swagger and bravado, the only evidence of fifteen years having passed is Fred's hefty beard and a new look for guitarist Wes Borland. The crowd gladly play along, and as the band launch into Hot Dog the atmosphere is electric; they're more than ready to “lose their shit”.
Their set is a straight-up greatest hits collection, typically staying the right side of 2000's high watermark Chocolate Starfish and The Hot Dog Flavored Water (save for the erroneous inclusion of 2011 track Gold Cobra). They move seamlessly from banger to banger: My Way, Nookie, Rollin', My Generation, the pauses filled by Fred's schizophrenic banter; one moment antagonising (“Are you Irish?”) the next gushing (“we're so fucking grateful to be here” he says at least three times). By the end of closer Take a Look Around, any doubters have been silenced and the crowd try to collect themselves to do it all again in 25 minutes.
[Limp Bizkit's Fred Durst (L) and Wes Borland]
Korn operate within the parameters set out by Fred & co; each song barrelling towards the inevitable drop or breakdown, Jonathan Davis inciting the crowd with platitudinous requests to get ready and/or louder, and massively impressive feats of percussional prowess. Korn, however, don't have quite the same b(r)and recognition as Limp Bizkit and the mood occasionally dips, especially when they try out their new material. Despite this, there is still plenty to get excited about; be it the bagpiped intro to Shoots and Ladders, the cacophonous insanity of Twist or the sheer power of favourites like Blind and Freak on a Leash.
Nu-metal may have fallen (read: crashed) from its position as an eminent, commercially viable genre, but these two bands prove that there is still a time and place for it. Its ability to affect is little dimmed by the intervening years, as the thousands of enraptured fans at The Hydro can safely attest.