SONG & DRINK

KORN | KORN

Korn’s self-titled 1994 debut was an angry and aggressive blast of pent-up energy that created an entire genre to follow. The birth of Nu-Metal rooted in the frequency scooped clicks and clacks that interplay in the album’s bass guitar and kick drum sound. Linkin Park and Slipknot would later become superstars of the genre, but the testosterone party started here.

Korn’s aesthetic combined metal, rock, thrash, punk, and hip-hop in more than just the music but the attitude as well. Adidas tracksuits and dreadlocks were a new kind of vibe that paired well with crunchy detuned riffs and a bass tone that sounded like the strings were holding on for dear life. The album is very powerful and dominating, putting frontman Jonathan Davis’ tense anger-filled screams right in your face. His vocals are crisp enough to feel the tension in his jaw when he delivers lines like “to all the people that think I’m straaange, that I should be outta here locked up in a caaage” in the song “Faggot.”

The sound of the album was foreign at the time thanks to producer Ross Robinson who accurately captured the pressure the band was channeling through their instruments. It wasn’t pleasing to everyone, but Korn’s sound and style was consistant and remains so. There’s arguably not a skippable track on the album, if you like one you will like them all. Every song burns its fuel on a fresh tank of gas. Lyrically the album’s themes are dark and personal as Davis’ exorcizes the painful demons and trauma from his youth. It was relatable to anyone who was bullied and angry or just wanted to break stuff.

This was the beginning of white male rage that would later climax in the rape and fires during Limp Bizkit’s set at Woodstock ’99. Mysogyy and male power run thick through the grooves covering up the repressed emotions many who relate are afraid to access. The dry snare-forward drums create a prickly crack that keep the listener focused. There’s nothing soft to be found anywhere, except the possibility that Davis and co. may be hiding some tears.

Opener “Blind” was one of the freshest lead singles ever to introduce a band, likely the only song in history cocky enough to open up with a lone ride cymbal before blowing up into an exasperated fury. As much as the album is tortured, it’s still a fun head-nodding journey the entire way through. By the time we reach the album’s closing hymn, “Daddy” the listener is fatigued from all the angst and emotion that’s been stirred in the body. As Davis collapses into a full blown mental breakdown, it stops being fun and starts being traumatizing in itself. This is the moment the album gets too real, and the goofing around between takes gives way to reveal the album’s underlying core pain.

Through cries and wails of “F*ck you! I f**king hate you! You ruined my life…” we hear a man in real time, having a full emotional release in the studio. Davis did not fake any part of this disturbing end piece, and it’s still hard to listen to. His body finally gives way to tormented sobbing while an angelic voice arrives to comfort him. Not exactly the feel-good anthem of the year.

The album concludes with a tape recording of a man yelling at his wife, a bit that sums up the power struggle of the masculine and feminine we are still experiencing. By this point we realize, we all need therapy.

“Are you ready?”

This simple cocktail combines the no-nonsense pungent sting of Jack Daniels with the birch-bark, mint, vanilla, and liquorice notes of root beer to capture the album’s flavour, both likeable and unique in it’s own right.