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Africa Weezer. Sit Next to Me Foster the People. Actually, lots of people did take Jonathan Davis and Fred Durst seriously, particularly young males, the one segment of the population that can always be counted on to toss around anti-gay language with impunity. You gotta hate this guy. Well, I hope it turns into the guy you love to hate. Durst was right. His audience got it. Korn and Limp Bizkit succeeded in making any criticism of their bands personal for their fans; if you fucked with Davis and Durst, you fucked with millions of kids with aggressive inferiority complexes. Limp Bizkit proved to be especially adept at having it both ways, with Durst playing the outlaw while working the system like a world-class con artist.
Just as Korn had gone to No. Three years earlier, Durst had a much different attitude when it came to business as usual.
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But not Durst, who instead kept his eyes fixed on the big picture. Even after the [paid radio] time expired, we stayed at No. I was no longer stuck with just one record store, MTV, and the radio when it came to seeking out new music. Finding stuff that I liked was easier, but also lonelier. Little did I know that I'd be handed the opportunity to get revenge on one of them.
After all, I was from the grunge generation, so it was part of my makeup to expect bad things to happen, and accept it with a disinterested shrug and a semi-obscure pop-culture reference delivered with wry resignation. Finally, a chance to climb into the belly of the beast and stick it with my all-powerful verbal swords. Did I mention Puddle Of Mudd was opening? It was my intent to do harm; every blow was low, every shot was cheap. I wanted my words to reduce Korn to a pile of smoldering rubble.
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Hurting their feelings was fine, too. An hour later, I turned in my review, and started anxiously awaiting the response. How do you describe a Korn concert experience? Imagine a fleet of s doing a fly-by a dozen feet over your head while a chainsaw buzzes slowly through your skull, and you have a decent approximation. If success here is judged by the severity of your headache as you finally, mercifully, walk out alive, then this show is one for the ages. In fact, Korn could go down as one of the worst sounding shows in the history of the soon-to-be-semi-retired Brown County Arena.
Congratulations, boys! And please, pass the Extra Strength Tylenol!
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO ALTERNATIVE NATION Pt. 1.docx -...
Front man Jonathan Davis and his dreadlocked band mates held the audience in the palms of their hands as soon as they walked on stage. Watching hordes of beefy young men insanely pound the testosterone out of each other on the arena floor some to the point of physical collapse was a disturbing sight, like a battle scene out of Braveheart re-imagined by Roger Waters. Also disconcerting was the overwhelming level of stupid maleness that rippled through the crowd between Korn and opener Puddle of Mudd, when hundreds of overheated mooks aggressively implored their female counterparts to expose themselves.
People are starting to look elsewhere. When its day is done, and that day is hopefully coming soon, Korn will really have something to be angry about.
A couple of words about my review: Yeah, I know it sounds stilted. And maybe a little stodgy. Okay, really stodgy. But, hey, how about that line about the s? I was pretty proud of that one. Hopefully, you were laughing so hard that you skipped the part about the Extra Strength Tylenol.
Questionable writing aside, the review did its job in spectacular fashion: Korn fans were pissed.
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The next day, expletive-filled screeds filled my e-mail inbox at the rate of one every 10 minutes. A local radio station made me a topic of very heated discussion on its message board. I stopped answering my phone, because I knew clenched fists and F-bombs were waiting to pummel me.
OI U fucker!!!! You must be gay. Fuckin idiot. You are nothing. In the end, I got 60 hate e-mails and about a dozen phone calls.