Listening Closely and Listening Loud: A Review of Limp Bizkit's Album; Gold Cobra

“We decided we were more disgusted and bored with the state of heavy popular music than we were with each other. Regardless of where our separate paths have taken us, we recognize there is a powerful and unique energy with this particular group of people we have not found anywhere else. This is why Limp Bizkit is back.” -Fred Durst and Wes Borland

That’s right everybody. NEW LIMP BIZKIT ALBUM. And it’s a doozy. Listening requirements- decent sound system. I’m listening on some stupidly high quality speakers, and it’s LOUD and DYNAMIC AS FUCK. I suggest you at least get a good set of head phones.

The opening track (“Introbra”) is epically Wes Borland in stylings- a hypnotic middle eastern style groove gyrating over some whining gibberish by Durst (“no matter how hard I tryyyyy…”). It builds up some tension, gently welcoming you back to their fold, nuzzling you back to that time before broadband internet, before the Olsen Twins developed eating disorders, back when Britney Spears wasn’t a total train wreck… oh, what’s that, I think I can see Trent Reznor over in the distance…? And then STOP, cut awkwardly to that guitar chugg and screech we’ve come to love about nu-metal that heralnds the beginning of track two. Straight in to it. That segue was a bit weird yeah, but track two is actually fucking dope. The deep crunk bass and over-produced hand-claps of “Bring It Back” drop all heavy over everything, acting like P-H fat pillars that support the pacing, repetitive guitar wails. Durst’s vocals don’t mean anything, you’re too concerned with that grimy beat. This song just makes you want to get drunk. You know it does. I do pours some wine. It’s one of those tracks that wouldn’t be out of place in a scene involving a grimy stripper den, maybe some vampires or something. I’m imagining myself as some southern white trash babe, being all seductive in the corner, then letting loose and doing heaps of bourbon shots when the pace picks up and it goes into late 90’s era THRASH RAP METAL . Amazing. But it doesn’t go for long enough- the trashy babe fantasy dissipates too soon after it takes hold in your mind. Lengthen that goddamned track.

Now we get to the title track. Gold Cobra. I heard this track before the album was released, when I discovered they’d released a film clip. I suggest you watch it. Heavily reliant on jiggling boobies. In fact, jiggling boobies is something of a repeating theme on the album. Did you know Fred Durst is an indie film director? Gold Cobra comes complete with shitty turn table scratches and a flighty/airy vocal breakdown/bridge. It is a song for cars. Cars driven by 17 year old boys, on their way to a party where there are going to be heaps of BABES, like, HELL LOOSE BABES READY TO BONE, but really, those babes will be 15 year old girls, the only tans will be fake ones, and the only boobies getting themselves out bikinis will be those ones of the girl who is about to throw up on the dude closest to her. But the boys can dream. One day they’ll find their Valhalla, where all the babes walk around in ADIDAS snap pants and string bikini tops, and Fred Durst kinda hints to them that he knows the way… “Holdin’ the gold it’s so gold it’s so golden y’all/Golden Cobra/Oh, Uh, That’s right, yeah (shut the fuck up!) that’s right”. OH, the majesty, the voice of my mild pre-teen anger, the drunken chanting into the throng of the teenage party.

The next few tracks fade in to the background pretty quickly. It feels as if the album has been designed to be the soundtrack to a drinking session. First track gets everyone looking forward to the promise of an altered perception (fuck yeah, let’s get our drunk on), track two slams the bass in to your chest and makes you feel a little sexy as you finish that first beer/ 5th shot, track three amps it up a little with the Ol’ Skool Limp Bizkit charm, and then you ride the wave of that fairly generic chug/wail/beat thing nu-metal does so well into track four, which is occasionally spiced up by some well placed, moronicly catchy lyrics about sharks. It’s vaguely anthemic, almost genius in its simplicity. Fists clutching beers pump into the night air in time as the beats level themselves out to become the slow pulse to your booze swilling.

“Get a Life” carries over with some slow riffage, a slow, mellow beat, a little menacing, the still troubled front man sounds like a different person (sounds skinnier?), and gets stern doing some rapping over only a hint of the chugging guitar that enters around 30 seconds in. Oooh deep bass, it’s a little hypnotising again, he’s not taking himself too seriously (he is the Polar Bear afterall), then the last decade’s fashionable musical expression of teen frustration unleashes itself within Our Fred, as he gets totally screamo all up in the listener’s eardrums “Get a life! Get a motherfucking life! You don’t wanna see what I can do, when I’m nice! You don’t wanna be my enemy I promise you! If you do, motherfucker bring it on!” Crushing. Durst, it’s good to have you back buddy. There has been a distinct lack of self absorbed white boy novelty rap in my life. There is only so much talented rapping I can handle, you know? And honestly, I was moving my body in time to the beat. It can be fucking tacky, sure, but when Wes Borland gets that guitar just perfect, the tone that kinda resonates through your muscles, any one with an appreciation for metal wouldn’t be able to hold themselves back. Borland is fucking awesome, and I dare anyone to say otherwise. Have you SEEN him live? YES FUCKING PLEASE.

The rest of the album is barely worth spending the time writing or reading about in detail. “Shotgun” features the sound of a shotgun going off as a beat at the end, “Walking Away” is the token melancholy track with some pretty brutal screamo too (oh man, you’re definitely still lonely and sad huh Fred?) that should probably feature whatever actress is the flavour of the month in the film clip, “I’m A Loser” is self absorbed, whiny, and annoyingly catchy. “Autotunage” is a song for the sake of including autotune in the vocals but it’s not even noticeable because Durst sings too in tune to begin with… and it’s nothing special. But it’s definitely suitable for drinking. They’re all suitable for drinking. Limp Bizkit is for getting drunk.

I hope I’ve inspired you to listen to the first three tracks at least. Get a six pack, your two closest, like-minded friends, and get in to it fellas.

“DOUCHEBAG, I’ma fuck you up”. – Fred Durst