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 The last few years have been pretty
turbulent for fumbling fat fool Fred Dust and his bedlamite band of
nu-metal numpties. After storming through the charts in the late
nineties and early naughties with their down-tuned faux-angst, things
all of a sudden went a bit skew-whiff for the band who had managed to
convince legions of angry little boys to start wearing red baseball caps
and 8-man-tent sized jeans.
It’s hardly rocket science to figure out where it all started to go
wrong either. It was roughly exactly around the point where
uber-guitarist and face-painted pioneer Wes Borland jumped ship.
Following Borland’s departure in 2002, Durst, bassist Sam Rivers,
decksman DJ Lethal and drummer John Otto plodded on with replacement
guitarist Mike Smith (Snot), putting out the utterly forgettable
“Results May Vary” the following year.
After such a disaster, Wes apparently took pity on his erstwhile
colleagues and re-joined the fold, contributing to the equally
forgettable 7-track mini album – “The Unquestionable Truth Part 1”.
And so it seems that, having done nothing of any significance since
2000’s smash “Chocolate Starfish & The Hotdog Flavoured Water” Limp
Bizkit figured that they’d better do something quickly to remind people
why they ever bothered with them in the first place.
And what a reminder “Greatest Hitz” has turned out to be. It’s a
reminder that, no matter how much you just want to ridicule the fat
middle-aged business man trying to get ‘down with da kidz’, you just
can’t help but admit that Limp Bizkit had an annoying habit of releasing
some catchy, heavy, dancefloor-filling singles.
Working it’s way through in chronological, ‘Greatest Hitz’ kicks off
with the ferocious, snarling monster that is 1997’s ‘Counterfeit’ (From
their debut ‘$3 Dollar Bill, Y’all’ of the same year), mixing brutally
raw riffage with some genuinely angry screaming from Fat Fred himself
and showing exactly what it was that made millions fall in love with the
‘Bizkit in the first place.
Well, it was either that, or the mega-popular George Michael cover
‘Faith’, a constant mainstay in the playlists of rock DJs the world over
that follows next, before making way for cuts from 1999’s ‘Significant
Other’.
Musically, the likes of ‘Nookie’ and ‘Break Stuff’ are Limp Bizkit at
their finest, hard, heavy and edgy enough to satisfy the metal fans, yet
simple enough to appeal to the masses. Where these tunes fail though, as
is the case with the majority of this album, is Fred’s purely childish,
nonsensical lyrics.
“I did it all for the nookie, so you can take that cookie and shove it
up your blergggghh,” right mate, whatever you say.
Equally as stupid is the juvenile testosterone-fuelled sentiment of
‘Breakstuff’, basically ‘Durst running around threatening to beat people
up and likening himself to a chainsaw.
In fact, it’s roughly around this point of the album that you start to
wonder just how good Limp Bizkit could’ve been if they didn’t have Fred
Durst waxing nonsensical over otherwise fairly decent music. However, as
the hip-hop collaboration with Method Man that comes next proves, Limp
Bizkit just wouldn’t be Limp Bizkit without him.
Doing away with the usual guitars and bass, ‘N 2gether Now’ is a simple
effort mixing a DJ Lethal sample with some simple drum beats whilst Fred
raps at an apparently hard-of-hearing Method Man (“What’s that, I didn’t
hear you? Come on, a little louder”). This writer is almost embarrassed
to say it, but ‘N 2gether Now’ is quite probably one of the best songs
to have the Limp’ name attached to it.
Moving on to the aforementioned “Chocolate Starfish…” album that for a
while defined nu-metal, and there’s more infuriatingly catchy riffing
and ‘get yo’ butt on the dancefloor’ beats, once again marred by Fred
Durst's inane ramblings, that are now just bordering on the ridiculous.
Take ‘My Generation’ for example. Not only does our Fred believe he can
fly, but he also thinks he’s an angst-ridden teenager ticked off at the
world. It’s quite sad, particularly because, apart from the fact that
their frontman is so desperate to ‘get with da yoof’, ‘My Generation’ is
another of Limp Bizkit’s proudest moments.
And from then on in, ‘Greatest Hitz’ is a bit of hit n miss affair.
‘Boiler’, featuring some of Wes Borland’s finest guitar work yet is
fantastic, ‘Re-arranged’ is rubbish, and as for the band’s medley of
Motley Crue’s ‘Home Sweet Home’ and The Verve’s ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’
Recorded especially for this release “Home Sweet Home/Bitter Sweet
Symphony” kicks off with some of the most amateur, computerised drumming
ever recorded, before building itself up into a multi-layered,
atmospheric anthem of desperation and melancholy, that actually isn’t
bad.
And that, my friends, is how Limp Bizkit, despite all their early hype,
will be remembered in history: Not bad.
Recommended Links:
www.limpbizkit.com – The Limp
Bizkit website
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