Produced by Ross Robinson at Indigo Ranch, Malibu
Engineered by Richard Kaplan
Mixed by Andy Wallace and Steve Sisco
Mastered by Howie Weinberg
‘Use your vehicle of salvation my brothers, go buy a gun
And go give your gun to Jesus and say
“Jesus, you go kill the disciples of Satan
And you kill the nazis, Jesus.”’
And thus begins Limp Bizkit’s debut. It all started when their vocalist Fred Durst handed his demo to Fieldy (Korn’s bassist), as he told Louder Sound in 2022: ‘I was homeless for a few years and just lost. Skateboarding and making crappy rap demos. I didn’t think anything was going to happen for me, but then I remember hearing that Korn were coming to town, and I said, ‘This is my chance, this is my shot. I gotta give these guys my tape.’ After the show they just walked out in the crowd and stood there. We started drinking some beer and I said, ‘I do tattoos, I’ll give you a free tattoo!’ For some reason they were down with going. I tattooed Brian Welch, and they bust my balls to this day, because I wrote ‘Korn’ and they say it says ‘Horn’. Still, I gave them a tape, and Fieldy responded and said, ‘I’m gonna let a few people hear this.’ so then I get a call from Ross Robinson. To me it was like, ’Woah! Ross Produced Korn’s record, this is unbelievable!’’
Robinson was immediately taken by Durst: ‘He’s probably the most charming person I’ve ever met. When Korn went through Jacksonville, Fred got my number, my address, and he sent me a cassette. I called up Fieldy, like, ‘Dude, why’d you give that guy my number? He keeps leaving me messages.’ I was really annoyed with it, and then my girlfriend listened to it and she goes, ‘This is really good.’ And I listen to it, and I remember like, ‘Oh my God, this is really good.’ And so I gave it to my manager, and we got it a record deal instantly. Fred, being the entrepreneur, convinced us it wasn’t good enough yet, got out of that record deal, and got another record deal. And then during the album, he wanted to be on Interscope, so the guy who did the deal before Interscope had to do a deal with Interscope. So he’s like a mega-businessman and just a kid.’
I can understand being hesitant to listen to a demo with the name ‘Limp Bizkit’ on it, but according to Durst, that was the point: ‘The name is there to turn people’s heads away. A lot of people pick up the disc and go, ‘Limp Bizkit. Oh, they must suck.’ Those are the people that we don’t even want listening to our music.’ Every interested label wanted them to change their name, but given that the alternatives they considered were ‘Gimp Disco, Split Dickslit, Bitch Piglet, and Blood Fart’, I think we’re all better off this way.
This juvenile approach impressed Robinson: ‘I kinda felt there was like a suicidal punk rock thing to it. Fred was singing about stuff like being pissed off at his neighbour and wanting to pee in their yard, and just really adolescent things that made you wanna wreck something.’ Nonetheless, even he found Durst a bit difficult to work with: ‘He had a lot of heaviness in his mind dealing with girlfriends, and he was serious. So, he was kind of difficult to function around ’cos he was so heavy, and then extremely the greatest dude ever… it was kind of a bi-polar thing happening.’
And so Robinson recorded the band’s debut album. You could argue that the result is the beginning of a new strain of nu metal — one in which the hip-hop influence became more pronounced, essentially taking the rap metal foundation of Rage Against the Machine and fusing it with Korn and Cypress Hill. The band follows the template of contrasting heavy groove riffs with hip-hop verses, but Durst actually raps over the hip-hop parts, and they’ve got a DJ in the band instead of a second guitarist. While the music is still dissonant, it doesn’t have the dark and gross feeling that pervades Korn’s music — the vibe is lighter. The emotional aspect has also changed, as this record never really gets to the pain behind all the anger — all of the emotional expression that Robinson pulled out of Durst is more superficial, and thus more toxic.
The intro quoted at the start of this review may give you a false idea of what you’re in for, but no — Fred Durst is the same as he ever was, right from the start. The intro goes straight into ‘Pollution’, where, straight out the gate, Durst is clapping back against his band and genre’s haters. This is followed by ‘Counterfeit’, where he rages about bands copying his band’s style. While you could write all of this off as regurgitated rap tropes, it’s clear that his persecution complex had already been fully developed. This is further evident in ‘Stereotype’: ‘You stereotype me, ‘causе you don’t like me — well, you don’t еven know me, punk’. Durst clearly has a real chip on his shoulder — the majority of the songs here are about him having some sort of conflict with someone.
Davis at least experienced internal conflict, but everything here is directed externally. The one track here where Durst expresses positivity is ‘Indigo Ranch’, where he shouts out all the other bands in the scene. This is ostensibly to thank them, but it feels more like he’s trying to make himself seem important by association. When it comes to the complex displayed here, it may be worth mentioning that these guys were the first all white nu metal band. Perhaps there’s an extra degree of privilege and entitlement that comes along with that. Part of the issue is that they present themselves as a bit of a joke band — and sure, they are a joke, but there’s real malice hiding behind that silly front.
Durst’s misogyny is in full force already — as we’ve come to expect from this band, most of this record is about women who have wronged Durst, mired in self-pity without a shred of self-awareness (to the extent that he literally sings ‘Nobody loves me, nobody cares, maybe I’ll go eat worms’). This is especially evident in ‘Stuck’, which opens with the line ‘Psycho female blowing up the phone line / You need to tighten that screw, it’s been loose for a long time.’ Durst goes on to degradingly call out a perceived gold digger: ‘Stuck on yourself, you whore! You take a dash for my cash, it’s that ass that I’m blasting.’ Covering George Michael’s ‘Faith’ in this context just feels extra obnoxious, adding to Durst’s hate pile for his ex-lover. Robinson was evidently opposed to including it on the record, but they ended up convincing him by adding a heavy half-step riff climax.
Durst’s defense of his misogyny in Rolling Stone magazine is absurd: ‘That’s because I said the words whore and bitch. My whole record is about my girlfriend who put me through the ringer for three years and my insecurity about it. It became this big thing… …Somebody may hear the word ‘bitch’ on our songs, but I love women. I will always be ready for my soul mate to fall into my lap. So those people who think it’s derogatory towards women are the people that aren’t listening to the words.’ And hey, he also calls himself a bitch on this album! That means he can’t be using it as a gendered slur, right? Nonetheless, he responded to the critics and opted to intentionally try to tone down the misogyny on their next record — not that he succeeded. As is evident in the quote above, he never got the memo that misogyny is about more than just bad words.
And yet, despite all the misogyny on display here and in many other nu metal records, the genre had far more female fans than ‘true’ metal ever has. Hemmerling commented: ‘For whatever reason, despite its well-documented chauvinism, nu metal seemed to offer more hospitable conditions for women than the general metal environment, a fact also attested to by the relatively robust presence of women in the audience.’ Apparently, this was not always the case — the band’s fanbase was very male-dominated early on, so they hosted a club tour called ‘Ladies Night in Cambodia’ where they offered free tickets to women. They had a lot more female fans after that.
Buying their fanbase was a big part of the strategy here, as there was also a controversy around payola. Interscope record paid $5k to a radio station in Portland to spin ‘Counterfeit’ 50 times. However, this was transparent, with an announcement that Interscope paid for the air time on either end of the track, which actually makes it a bit of a step up for the industry. I think people mostly got upset because they hadn’t realized that was happening. Durst conceded that ‘it worked, but it’s not that cool of a thing.’
Nonetheless, it was part of the reason that Robinson quickly soured on the band. As he told Metal-is.com just two years later: ‘The feeling I have about what the singer of Limp Bizkit does and what he stands for, it’s not what I’m about. The gold record you saw was earned and after that, there was a lot of payola and cheesy things went down to make that ‘Faith’ song blow up. I tried to make them not do that song.’ As such, he turned down work on their next two albums, but changed his mind and worked with the band again in 2005. More on that later…
It’s unclear if the payola actually helped them sell records, but it certainly got their name out there and probably increased the audience at their shows. If you attended one of their shows, you were likely to experience Durst’s homophobia. Faith No More keyboardist Roddy Bottum recounts when Limp Bizkit opened for them: ‘That guy Fred Durst had a really bad attitude. He was kind of a jerk. I remembered he called the audience faggots at one show when they booed him. Not a good scene.’ According to Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel music critic Jon M. Gilbertson: ‘The one attention-grabbing moment of Limp Bizkit’s rap/thrash show was when the lead singer expressed a desire for gay men to be ‘stomped’. Which isn’t remotely rebellious. It’s just puerile.’
This just serves to make their ironic George Michael cover upsetting, rather than simply bad. Durst’s performance on that song is especially cringe-inducing — he lacks the vocal chops to pull it off. (At least roasts himself by changing the lyrics: ‘I know not everybody has a body like me’.) He thankfully doesn’t sing much on this record, but when he does, it’s painful — he needed the shiny production of later records to make his singing sound tolerable. Of course, that means he subjects listeners to a lot of his clunky and grating rap flow instead. The one thing that saves the vocals here is his screaming, which is actually pretty good — it’s a shame he mostly ditched it after this record. He may not be a skilled vocalist, but his performance is admittedly pretty dynamic. He brings a lot of character to the proceedings, for better or worse.
Of course, it’s easy to put all of the attention on Durst, because it really is his band — he founded it, assembled the players, chose the direction, and became the public figurehead. Thus, most of the general public has ignored the fact that the band he assembled is actually pretty damn good. Before Durst came along, John Otto was in school for jazz drumming (an influence which comes through on the walking bass bridge of ‘Stuck’) and playing in avantgarde bands. Sam Rivers is an interesting bass player who comes up with some really creative lines and often takes center stage.
Then there’s Wes Borland, who was also a jazz student at the same school Otto was attending. He’s a very creative guitarist with a distinctive sound, filled with harmonics, interesting pedal effects, and unique extended approaches to his instrument — this is especially obvious on ‘Sour’. He added a theatrical flare to the stage, often donning masks, costumes, and face paint. He’s a big fan of Mr. Bungle and Ween, but has never seemed to be much of a fan of Fred Durst. He had already left the band once before this album was even recorded, and he would later quit again — but never for good. I’ve always felt bad for the guy — it seems like he always felt like being in this band was selling out, but his integrity around that tended to run away as soon as he ran out of money. Granted, his association with the band made it difficult for him to get better gigs, as no one wanted to be associated with Durst.
Finally, there is DJ Lethal, a member of hip-hop trio House of Pain with Everlast. Durst originally sought a second guitarist to round out their lineup, but ultimately opted for a DJ instead. Lethal doesn’t just add scratching — he does a great job of integrating samples and keyboard textures into a rock band setting, adding just enough ear candy. While his contributions to the heavier parts here are subtle, he comes to the forefront in the verses, where he really does play the role of a second guitar (or keyboard, like the organ in the verses of ‘Counterfeit’). The mixing reflects that, with Borland hard panned to one channel and Lethal in the other. It feels a lot like Korn’s stereo effects, but with a DJ twist. His requisite interludes, like the one at the end of ‘Stuck’, are undeniably appealing.
As with Roots, Andy Wallace mixed this one. His mixing is generally cleaner than Robinson’s, but this record still has plenty of dirt. It might be the sloppiest, most raucous sounding record that Robinson ever produced, mostly due to the performances. It’s certainly the band’s rawest and heaviest album. Limp Bizkit actually became a pretty tight band later on, but they were not there yet — John Otto’s drumming in particular often feels like he’s barely holding it together, which of course generates a lot of excitement. If you can get down with this style, the way Otto sounds like he’s tripping over himself in ‘Pollution’ or the climax of ‘Faith’ will absolutely get you moving. Like Korn, the band’s feel is lumbering and clunky (there’s even a song here that is fittingly titled ‘Clunk’) — and yet their grooves are undeniable.
Is the solid band able to overcome the blight of Durst enough to make this record enjoyable? Yes and no. The band’s flaws are made clear in the closing track — a whopping 16.5min jam called ‘Everything’, in which they explore their mellow side. Durst does some spoken word over the beginning (more broken relationship talk) until the band settles into a groove, then he gets out of the way. The rest is an amateurish rock band jam — unstructured, noodly, and aimless, sitting on one vamp for way too long, with more than a few dud notes and fumbled grooves, and only ending when the tape ran out. Borland in particular is not a strong improviser, as he seems to be searching for the scale at times here — I guess he never quite developed those jazz chops. It’s not clear to me why they felt this whole thing deserved to make the album, but I suppose that fits the generally un-self-aware ethos here.
I remember hipsters in the early 2000s telling me ‘Limp Bizkit sucks now, but their first album was good.’ Review aggregate sites still rate this record most highly — it’s their top album on RYM, with an impressive 2.71/5 rating dragged down by half-star reviews like ‘Their even WORST then the beastie boys, which i thought it was impossible until i listened to this bullshit. If you want good music listen to classic rock or classic heavy metal.’ With that said, a lot of the music here is actually pretty damn cool — I can see where the hipsters were coming from. Durst at least isn’t as high in the mix on this album, so it’s easier to just pay attention to the band. Sometimes I feel like the raw production doesn’t suit them as well as their later pop sheen, and the band had yet to hit their stride as a unit, but they undeniably lost a certain youthful raw energy after this record. This album was a turning point for the genre, firmly establishing the rap metal side of nu metal as its own subgenre. Deftones had already laid the blueprint for this, but Limp Bizkit expanded on it and codified it.
Nu metal was always more of an umbrella. Even after having only examined three bands in the genre so far, we’ve heard 3 different styles. Korn set the foundation, Sepultura created an extreme metal / Brazilian percussion hybrid around it, and Limp Bizkit fused it with rap metal. Before long, a number of industrial metal bands, post-grunge bands, hardcore bands, and pop acts also ended up getting lumped in. Incredibly raw productions sat side by side with huge budget blockbuster albums. While Robinson’s work as a producer laid the foundations for the genre, nu metal soon ended up becoming more of a scene and ethos than a true sonic identifier — and that scene was beginning to explode. 1997 also saw the release of the second Deftones and Sugar Ray albums and the major label debut records by Coal Chamber, Nothingface, Snot, Sevendust, Incubus, Powerman 5000, and (hed) P.E. — not to mention several independent albums and demos by bands who were soon to become big hits, like Saliva, Papa Roach, and an early formation of Linkin Park called Xero. The train had started to move, and there was no stopping it.
