Korn – with Lordz of Brooklyn, Sugar Ray at Axis – Review

Korn

with Lordz of Brooklyn, Sugar Ray at Axis
by Scott Hefflon

We started drinking early in preparation.

So I’m half blasted at the bar at six pm, checking out gangsta trippers Lordz of Brooklyn. Five kinda white/hispanic guys with mics and bats and lottsa tats. They’re trading their raps and stompin’ around, while the drummer’s chillin’ in the back and the DJ ‘s skippin’ records, layin’ samples and various sounds on us. The crowd is swaying in the dark and grooving on it. I’m sucking on lemons at the bar.

Break: The PA blasts Clutch and Stompbox (R.I.P.). The crowd is like an explosion waiting for a detonator. Tough by nature. Many Korn shirts. (They just played with Mr. Manson and Mr. Danzig.) Some tight, mean bodies out there. A few soft-bodies that desperately need to trim. They order Sam Adams and Rock. Some get Bud. I do Jäger. You can learn a lot about a crowd by the way they drink, you’ve gotta be sly to get the scoop ’cause no one likes a social studies geek scamming their lifestyle. The natives become restless.

Sugar Ray bounds onto the stage like a kindergarten class the day after Halloween. The first blast of guitar power rolled over us like the coming of a hurricane. Surges of bass, drums and DJ scratches followed suit as ultracharismatic frontman, Mark McGrath (from Hartford, CT), apologized for being so incredibly sober. The manic twinkle in his eye basically let you know that he needs no stimulants to be crazy. This is a guy who’s found his niche.

Sugar Ray launched into their heavy chugging rap attack and wasted no time in getting the crowd fistbanging, headslamming, bodysurfing, and doing that whoa-whoa wave thang. The energy was unstoppable. It flowed out of each of the Rays. The crowd soaked it up and returned it ten fold. While Lemonade and Brownies (Atlantic) has some chill, jazzy moments, the live show opened the throttle wide and left it there. The pit extended from dead center to the side bar (thanks, I think I’ll get off here) and had some wild arm flailing, but it was all in the name of fun. At one point, the band broke it down and Mark took over the center of the pit and gave us breakdance lessons. I thought that was rather nice.

They joked around a bit and closed with the two minute distorted rampage, “Big Black Woman.” Mark said he loved us all and got this big group hug thing happening. Yeah, it was a touching moment… Love flapped in the air like clothes hung out to dry on a really windy day. And then it was gone. Sigh. Back to the bar.

Break: More Stompbox and the Judgement Night soundtrack. The crowd paces like caged beasts awaiting the next feeding. This ain’t the slacker shit they write up in yer daily papers or include in NY Times bestseller novels – this is the psycho culture that doesn’t slow down long enough to write books or articles about itself; it’s too damn busy being. This is the free-for-all that bows to no punk ethic or idealistic Peace in the Pit Agenda. This is the chaos of the music scene, a fickle, volatile mass of humans demanding extreme entertainment for their extreme tastes. Packs of wolves, vibrating with energy, roam aimlessly seeking thrills. A clan here, a clan there, howling lyrics back at the PA speakers. Waiting… whilst I, your illustrious narrator, try desperately to chronicle this social phenomenon. Or something like that. The fundage has run dry so I make my way toward front and center. Korn is coming. Agnostic Front on the PA. A pit breaks out. Old style – a circle mosh.

Korn takes the stage in a much awaited explosion and the pit extends to the far walls. While their album, Korn (Immortal/Epic), has a vintage/industrial vibe, the live show was simply an enraged roar loud enough to make Mr. Reznor cringe in whatever lush hotel suite closet he’s currently locked himself into. The breath-to-a-snarl vocals of Jonathan Davis led the force with subtle croaks and jackhammer raps. The advanced drumming and Primus-y bass rocked like a powerhouse – never excessive, never mundane. The guitar crunch was so freakin’ monstrous, I couldn’t tell if it was technically adept, I just know it was loud and drove the crowd nuts. Literally. This was one of the most insane pits I’ve been a part of since the thrash heyday of the late 80s. It was brutal.

While more well-known bands like Pantera and White Zombie put on powerful shows and work the crowd hard, there was a deeper. more primal rage being tapped into here.

There were fewer novices (inspired by hyped videos to jump the latest wagon) in this pit, and more veterans who know how to fend for themselves. It was amazing to run with a pack so tapped into its guttural nature, with such well-executed motion. It’s only dangerous if you ain’t intense enough to take it. Getting clocked by a flying trash can kinda sucked, but only for a moment. Korn knows how to shake buildings, and how to build them up again. Highlights included the infectious groove of “Divine,” with its screamable chorus and funk bass riffs; “Faget,” with its anti-jock-name-calling anthem that escalates from teenage frustration to an all-out war cry; and “Shoots and Ladders,” a song in which Davis starts out playing the bagpipes before stringing together dark and twisted nursery rhymes in a slow, plodding stomp. The lyrics loop and give new meaning to childhood memories, much the way Clutch does. Yeah, and the crowd went downright psychotic over that one. Korn has been compared to all the usual heavy/industrial boys (especially Rage Against the Machine), but the sound is distinctively their own. It won’t be long before they define a standard to which other bands are compared.