XJustinSaneX
04.10.2003, 20:09
Ich hab einen Artikel zu oben genanntem Thema gefunden, dem ich vollkommen zustimmen kann. Leider weiß ich die genaue Quelle nicht und der Text ist auf englisch. Aber das sollte ja das geringste Problem sein. :D
Also, hier isser:
The Results are in: Limp Bizkit sucks
You'll need a lot more than faith to be able to listen to all 68 minutes of Results May Vary, Limp Bizkit's latest atrocity
By Dan Devine
All right, I understand that it's not actual, physical violence, but can we please categorize the latest Limp Bizkit album as a hate crime? They obviously hate the listening public; why else would they subject us to such absolute crap? It's clearly a crime against rock music: Results May Vary is a treasure chest of derivative guitar lines, an unimaginative rhythm section, clichéd song structures, and the worst lyrics this side of...well, anywhere. As for Fred Durst's crimes against rap music...well, that's an article by itself. Isn't this enough to get a conviction? Pre-law students, hear me out: this is a reputation-making case.
Even if we can't get Durst and company in the courtroom, we can try them in the court of public opinion, and Results May Vary offers enough damning evidence to lock the Limp away for life. The case starts before the album even enters your CD player-the cover art, a screaming Durst washed in a deep, Hulk-out green, gives you every indication that the album will be chock full of insipid emotional rage-rock meandering, thrashing, and breaking stuff until it eventually tires and goes to sleep. Unfortunately, it takes over sixty-eight minutes for that to happen. A seventy-minute Limp Bizkit record. This officially replaces my previous "This must be what's on the radio in hell" song, a two-hour loop of BBMak's "Back Here," as the soundtrack to eternal damnation. Chilling.
Let's talk about lyrics, because this one's got some back-breakers. From "Gimme the Mic": "Hold up/it's the motherf**kin' concrete/suicidal nightshift loaded with a vice grip/poppin' all you copies who keep waterin' down s**t/thinkin' you can rap with that artificial outfit/your baggy pants and bottle of crack hits." Here are some questions:
-What exactly is "the motherf**kin' concrete"? Do you think even Fred knows what that one means? I don't.
-How do you load a "suicidal nightshift" with a "vice grip"?
-Did Fred Durst stop wearing baggy pants? I must have missed the memo.
-I know that crack comes in vials, but since when do actual "crack hits" come in a bottle? I'm confused. I'm going to take a nap. ...
Upon waking up, it's all still nonsense to me. I think maybe I'm thinking too hard on this; I mean, it's obvious that the songwriter didn't give a second thought to a single damn word he was writing, so why should I? Good job, dude. This one makes "Give me somethin' to break" sound like Edgar Allan Poe.
Another stellar example of Durst's lyrical genius comes on Results' first (and hopefully last) radio single, "Eat You Alive." We're going to skip past the song's deeper moments (i.e., "I'm drawn to you/something magnetic here" and "I'd love to sniff on them panties now") and look at what I'm sure Durst considers to be the money shot: "Hey, you/Miss 'Too Good To Look My Way and That's Cool'/you want nothing at all to do with me/but I want you, ain't nothing wrong with wanting you/because I'm a man and I can think what the hell I want/you got that straight."
(Is it any wonder that the dudes who listen to Limp Bizkit always look at girls sort of creepily? I mean, they're sitting in their basements or whatever, listening to Durst talk about how there "ain't nothing wrong with wanting" the girls who wouldn't give them the time of day, and then they bro down a little bit, maybe get a Meat Lover's Pizza from Pizza Hut or something, and they listen again, and high five over being "men who can think what the hell [they] want," and they listen again. Let me be clear: I'm not blaming music for the creepy actions of individuals. I'm blaming Fred Durst for speaking so ambiguously to the steakhead nation, the steakhead nation for listening, and the individual kids who are listening for being steakheads in the first place. It's just unnecessary and stupid.)
Now let's talk about rapping, the true staple of Limp Bizkit's musical project. The only way Durst could get away with rhymes this awful is if he released it under the name Dirt McGirt, and even then, there'd be some head-scratching.
Speaking of scratching, DJ Lethal continues to blow whatever credibility he had from his work with House of Pain by ruining rap history with Limp Bizkit. Lethal laces the aforementioned "Gimme the Mic" with a sample and a cribbed line from the Eric B. and Rakim classic, "Microphone Fiend." This is flat-out wrong. Rakim should hunt down Durst and slap him several hundred times. This might sound harsh, but it's the principle of the thing, folks: someone who raps like Fred Durst should never be allowed to put himself in a position to be mentioned in the same sentence as Rakim. Bottom line.
The atrocities continue, as the putrid "Phenomenon" sports samples from a trifecta of hip-hop legends. Durst and Lethal mangle Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock," Public Enemy's "Bring the Noise," and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five's "White Lines" with distorted guitars, flat-out awful production, and reams of lifeless phrases put poorly into a basic rhyme scheme by a talentless hack. To top it all off, the mighty Snoop Dogg mercilessly whores himself out, showing up on "Red Light Green Light." While this isn't necessarily surprising, because all Snoop cares about is making money, it's still disappointing. Why rappers continue to consent to marrying their name to the lyrical train wreck that is Limp Bizkit is above and beyond me; the only thing I can figure is that they never actually listen to the albums, losing interest after cashing their royalty check. Un-fortunately for listeners, the interest is gone well before the CD ends, and not only do we not get paid, but we're out fifteen bucks.
As serious as Durst's crimes against rap are, they pale in comparison to the utter bludgeoning of the Who's "Behind Blue Eyes." Let me repeat that, because it bears repeating. Limp Bizkit. Covering the Who. Does anybody else have a terrible headache right now? Hasn't Pete Townsend been through enough this year? And poor John Entwistle and Keith Moon can't even defend themselves. Disgraceful.
I defy readers and listeners to find a single positive thing to say about Results May Vary. Listening to this record made me feel dirty, not because it's vulgar (which it is) and not because it's full of unoriginal and lame grandstanding (ditto), but because I can honestly say, without compunction or overstatement, that it's the worst record I've heard this year, and probably for the last two or three. I would say that Fred Durst ought to be ashamed of himself, but I guess I'm already ashamed enough for the both of us.
GRADE: F-
Also, hier isser:
The Results are in: Limp Bizkit sucks
You'll need a lot more than faith to be able to listen to all 68 minutes of Results May Vary, Limp Bizkit's latest atrocity
By Dan Devine
All right, I understand that it's not actual, physical violence, but can we please categorize the latest Limp Bizkit album as a hate crime? They obviously hate the listening public; why else would they subject us to such absolute crap? It's clearly a crime against rock music: Results May Vary is a treasure chest of derivative guitar lines, an unimaginative rhythm section, clichéd song structures, and the worst lyrics this side of...well, anywhere. As for Fred Durst's crimes against rap music...well, that's an article by itself. Isn't this enough to get a conviction? Pre-law students, hear me out: this is a reputation-making case.
Even if we can't get Durst and company in the courtroom, we can try them in the court of public opinion, and Results May Vary offers enough damning evidence to lock the Limp away for life. The case starts before the album even enters your CD player-the cover art, a screaming Durst washed in a deep, Hulk-out green, gives you every indication that the album will be chock full of insipid emotional rage-rock meandering, thrashing, and breaking stuff until it eventually tires and goes to sleep. Unfortunately, it takes over sixty-eight minutes for that to happen. A seventy-minute Limp Bizkit record. This officially replaces my previous "This must be what's on the radio in hell" song, a two-hour loop of BBMak's "Back Here," as the soundtrack to eternal damnation. Chilling.
Let's talk about lyrics, because this one's got some back-breakers. From "Gimme the Mic": "Hold up/it's the motherf**kin' concrete/suicidal nightshift loaded with a vice grip/poppin' all you copies who keep waterin' down s**t/thinkin' you can rap with that artificial outfit/your baggy pants and bottle of crack hits." Here are some questions:
-What exactly is "the motherf**kin' concrete"? Do you think even Fred knows what that one means? I don't.
-How do you load a "suicidal nightshift" with a "vice grip"?
-Did Fred Durst stop wearing baggy pants? I must have missed the memo.
-I know that crack comes in vials, but since when do actual "crack hits" come in a bottle? I'm confused. I'm going to take a nap. ...
Upon waking up, it's all still nonsense to me. I think maybe I'm thinking too hard on this; I mean, it's obvious that the songwriter didn't give a second thought to a single damn word he was writing, so why should I? Good job, dude. This one makes "Give me somethin' to break" sound like Edgar Allan Poe.
Another stellar example of Durst's lyrical genius comes on Results' first (and hopefully last) radio single, "Eat You Alive." We're going to skip past the song's deeper moments (i.e., "I'm drawn to you/something magnetic here" and "I'd love to sniff on them panties now") and look at what I'm sure Durst considers to be the money shot: "Hey, you/Miss 'Too Good To Look My Way and That's Cool'/you want nothing at all to do with me/but I want you, ain't nothing wrong with wanting you/because I'm a man and I can think what the hell I want/you got that straight."
(Is it any wonder that the dudes who listen to Limp Bizkit always look at girls sort of creepily? I mean, they're sitting in their basements or whatever, listening to Durst talk about how there "ain't nothing wrong with wanting" the girls who wouldn't give them the time of day, and then they bro down a little bit, maybe get a Meat Lover's Pizza from Pizza Hut or something, and they listen again, and high five over being "men who can think what the hell [they] want," and they listen again. Let me be clear: I'm not blaming music for the creepy actions of individuals. I'm blaming Fred Durst for speaking so ambiguously to the steakhead nation, the steakhead nation for listening, and the individual kids who are listening for being steakheads in the first place. It's just unnecessary and stupid.)
Now let's talk about rapping, the true staple of Limp Bizkit's musical project. The only way Durst could get away with rhymes this awful is if he released it under the name Dirt McGirt, and even then, there'd be some head-scratching.
Speaking of scratching, DJ Lethal continues to blow whatever credibility he had from his work with House of Pain by ruining rap history with Limp Bizkit. Lethal laces the aforementioned "Gimme the Mic" with a sample and a cribbed line from the Eric B. and Rakim classic, "Microphone Fiend." This is flat-out wrong. Rakim should hunt down Durst and slap him several hundred times. This might sound harsh, but it's the principle of the thing, folks: someone who raps like Fred Durst should never be allowed to put himself in a position to be mentioned in the same sentence as Rakim. Bottom line.
The atrocities continue, as the putrid "Phenomenon" sports samples from a trifecta of hip-hop legends. Durst and Lethal mangle Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock," Public Enemy's "Bring the Noise," and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five's "White Lines" with distorted guitars, flat-out awful production, and reams of lifeless phrases put poorly into a basic rhyme scheme by a talentless hack. To top it all off, the mighty Snoop Dogg mercilessly whores himself out, showing up on "Red Light Green Light." While this isn't necessarily surprising, because all Snoop cares about is making money, it's still disappointing. Why rappers continue to consent to marrying their name to the lyrical train wreck that is Limp Bizkit is above and beyond me; the only thing I can figure is that they never actually listen to the albums, losing interest after cashing their royalty check. Un-fortunately for listeners, the interest is gone well before the CD ends, and not only do we not get paid, but we're out fifteen bucks.
As serious as Durst's crimes against rap are, they pale in comparison to the utter bludgeoning of the Who's "Behind Blue Eyes." Let me repeat that, because it bears repeating. Limp Bizkit. Covering the Who. Does anybody else have a terrible headache right now? Hasn't Pete Townsend been through enough this year? And poor John Entwistle and Keith Moon can't even defend themselves. Disgraceful.
I defy readers and listeners to find a single positive thing to say about Results May Vary. Listening to this record made me feel dirty, not because it's vulgar (which it is) and not because it's full of unoriginal and lame grandstanding (ditto), but because I can honestly say, without compunction or overstatement, that it's the worst record I've heard this year, and probably for the last two or three. I would say that Fred Durst ought to be ashamed of himself, but I guess I'm already ashamed enough for the both of us.
GRADE: F-