Where’s Your Precious First Love NOW?! #2: KoRn

When we last left this feature, I had just reviewed The Offspring’s Americana. I mentioned, of course, that Americana was only only one of two I bought at the Circuit City that day. The other was Korn’s Follow the Leader, which was another side of the male teenage angst on the radio at the time. More aggressive and tortured, less inclined to novelty songs. Indeed, Korn were generally lumped in with the Nu Metal crowd that included Limp Bizkit and Rage Against the Machine, but were really a whole different animal. The way they melded rap and rock had less to do with vocalization and more with their ability to find a groove. In a lot of ways, this album would in hindsight be the peak of that approach to making music; subsequent albums would see the band trying to get “heavier,” an eventual creative dead-end. But here, things are fairly sunny. Not sonically, just in terms of quality. “Freak on a Leash,” for example, is an utterly unique song. All groove and angst, it uses the band’s DJ scratches and melodic weaknesses to create a kind of sinister vibe that carries the song. It doesn’t even matter what the song is specifically about; once the central elements to the song are in place, there’s no stopping its hypnotic groove.

It wasn’t always that way, though. As a teen, I hung onto every word of Jon Davis’s angry, dissatisfied lyrics. Now, I find that it’s easier to enjoy the band if you take the words on a more subliminal level as just part of the sound. I’ve remarked elsewhere in the past that Marilyn Manson’s lyrics are kind of a “How to piss off old people Madlibs;” Jon Davis’s writing style is “Madlibs for basic teenage male angst.” You get dead bodies, cursing, a couple words that I still can’t make out, “FUCK” every minute or two. Like I said, the stuff that sticks out enhances the song in terms of its mood; to get bogged down in specific meaning gets frustrating. Only “Justin,” about a fan who died of cancer (and gets 12 tracks of silence in tribute before the music begins) and “Got the Life” really get a clear message across without sounding like a bunch of complaints strung together.

In some ways, my feelings for this album haven’t changed; only my enthusiasm has. At the risk of any kind of credibility in anything at all, ever, I remember at one point I argued with a Led Zeppelin fan about which of the two was the greatest band of all time. By no measure of time or sanity can I even come up with my side of that argument anymore, but I’d still say Follow the Leader holds up alright on its own terms. The first four songs, from “It’s On” through “Dead Bodies Everywhere” are perfect in their expression of a strong sense of outsider angst. I don’t feel it like I did back then, but I think that if I did, I’d still appreciate this in the same way. These guys had a sound that was pretty much its own. Davis’ voice, in particular, is helpful to this effort. The growls, scat singing, cookie monster vocals, and yelping all add multiple textures to every song.

As for the rest? I listened to “Children of the Korn,” featuring Ice Cube, optimistically. I’d hoped that my education in the ways of hip-hop would let me say “Holy crap, time has informed me of a long lost gem!” But, alas, it was not to be. It’s a boring song, going too far into the hip-hop territory, where the band’s metal roots don’t mix all that well. Cube’s verse is incredibly generic, like he was drawn into the same world of “anti-authoritarian, whatever the authority” attitude of teenagers. Even worse is the Fred Durst guest spot, “All in the Family,” where Davis and Durst trade weak barbs over simple rhymes. (Durst calls Davis “corny” twice -- get it? ‘Cause he’s in the band KORN.) It’s meant to be fun, but the two carry themselves with such dour boredom that it comes off as sad posing. At the very least, it ends with Davis wanting to suck off and buttfuck Durst (I am not making that up! I don’t recommend searching for the song, but that’s how it ends!), which is almost nearly clever. It’s more of an odd moment than anything redeeming, though.

After that the album rights itself for the rest of its duration, relying less on hooks or attempted shock value and more on murky atmosphere. It all runs together, but Korn make good mood music if your mood is bad and your dissatisfaction with the world is of the unspecific kind. “Reclaim My Place” is at least a good pump-up song, still antagonistic but less negative and mopey than most Korn. They also get bonus points for “Seed,” a sweet (by Korn standards) song about fatherhood that at the very least is not a re-write of “Forever Young.” Things wind down well enough, with Tre Hardson (from the Pharcyde) showing up on the unremarkable “Cameltosis” before the last listed song. Things top off with a bonus track: a cover of “Earache My Eye” featuring Cheech Marin. It’s a curve-ball on an album that’s mostly predictable after the first couple songs. It’s not as funny as the band seems to think it is, but hey, it’s better to end on a surprise than a bore.

Would I Do It Again? I’d still download “Freak on a Leash.” The rest if someone was selling it for $2.

P.S. About hidden tracks: they’re really quaint at this point, aren’t they? Is there a greater relic of the CD era than the exercise of listing X number of songs, then padding the album with ten minutes of silence followed by a throwaway? Who out there listened to a CD, in order, and just turned the damned thing off the second the last song ended? “Oh shit! There’s a bunch of silence after that last song! The CD pressing plant must’ve made a mista-… WOOAAAAH!”

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About the Author

Jere is not from Chicago. Nor is he from Parts Unknown. But he sure loves to hear things. Follow him on Twitter!

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