blackstar40's Full Review: The Unquestionable Truth Part 1 [PA] [Digipak] by ...
It’s ironic that each and every band rapcore outfit Limp Bizkit have founded during their long, undulating career (most of whom have now made a respectable name and income for themselves) all have more talent than these never say die stalwarts of pained, bludgeoning rap, or ‘nu,’ metal. Look over the indefatigable fivepiece’s releases and you’ll find the highest of highs any band can aspire to (recall oodles of obstinate teenagers moshing around five years back to Fred Durst’s rhythmic chants and you’ll have the picture), but in the years leading up to 2005, their assertive teen heroics have slowed to a standstill. Results May Vary was unanimously elected by critics and listeners alike as the worst album of 2003. The Unquestionable Truth, Part I, sees them heading into a virtual gully.
Leading on from that dreadful previous Results May Vary, which sealed the group’s looming condemnation with the general public if they were to continue with their tortured outtakes of growling, bogging insincerity, so Durst has had to find some new tool to dispel his own personal malice towards the world and the media which has chased him from square one, again with mixed ups and downs (blanch… remember, they came up with the idea of hacking his cell-phone…). Either way, both have dropped their once supportive approach to this once highly beloved band, and the sizable amount of offspring they’ve brought into the radar are now receiving more airplay and acclaim then they are.
It’s called change. But, don’t dismiss The Unquestionable Truth (Part I) as being the same, because it’s really not. It’s a change alright – for the worse. It’s barely longer than a standard EP when you get down to the packaging and the technics, so it’s not an age to sit through with the usual whims of the broken-hearted, fame-hounded Bizkit, who never forget to bring up constantly the problems with ‘that sort’ of lifestyle. For fifth album (sixth if you count that remix one, heck can you even remember it’s name?) Limp Bizkit turn their sights on world issues, as if they’re going to change the way the world looks at them. Yeah, right. They all pack a terrific punch towards the evils of murdering idolized rockstars (nods to ‘Dimebag’) and ‘sending your kids to Sunday school so they can get fuŠked by the ‘priests.’’ Charming. The much-needed return of the original guitarist Wes Borland notably aids, but not much. Politics, as much of this is concerned with, is always dangerous territory for a band outside of the punk genre to step into, and while there are outstanding results once in a while from a band that preaches the rights and wrongs to society, more commonly it’s just derogatory dull rubbish. Fred Durst himself sounds this time around like an unpleasantly wretched American Idol auditionee with a sore throat, and the remaining instruments often seem uncertain quite what to do to keep up with Durst’s egotistical breakdown case, so they just rock… harmlessly away. It’s an unlikely bond that holds Limp Bizkit together; on this, the fault line is beginning to split them open.
Oh, and by the way, they’re now an outcast to the masses. Opening track ‘The Pandemonium,’ is a definite, satiristic portrayal of the way politics runs, namely feeding people lies and keeping the secrets classified. The drumbeat and rollicking guitars (in the first two and a half minutes) identify the anger this group can stuff in in spades, but Durst’s exhausted, high-pitched shrieks come with resignation, not a favorable or agreeing nod. ‘FuŠk yeah, they’re buyin’ it,’ he shouts. Sorry, Fred, we’re not.
‘The Truth’ shoots in with rapid riffing performed with sordid fashion, suitably and obediently waiting a phrasing entry, which the leads the track into an aimless off-course spiral. Just wait until Durst quotes the Lord’s prayer in an interlude which is bound to raise eyebrows, and eventually to be lead up to the road of the hook ‘Imagine accepting the truth!’ Try to do so at your own peril. ‘The Priest’ attacks religion (yawn, yawn) in the ‘hippest’ manner imaginable to this severely hampered stream of musicians. By now the very idea of a band such as Limp Bizkit selling atheism to the world, when Tool could sum it up so well five good years ago (Durst will allegedly get offended if one of his protégés tries to release ‘satanic album artwork’ on his label) invokes feelings that don’t warm to it beyond a shudder. Things run downhill as Durst whines about ‘Dimebag’ Darrell’s bullet in the chest. Maybe he’s suddenly feeling very insecure. Scary point of interest – he’s actually looking for you to give him sympathy. ‘What the fuŠk is this,’ he moans.
‘The Channel’ is another quite happy to scrape out and pat down it’s gritty guitarwork for a good minute before vocals are introduced. In itself, it’s probably an extract from Fred Durst’s diary when MTV decided they wouldn’t play sucker for his selling himself out to them anymore. ‘I don’t like TV / They’re selling so much sh!t these days’ is the single-minded message of the lyric’s main brain. ‘I don’t like the wh*res / That try to fuŠk you for your game.’ My, oh my, only Durst could dream up such a self-contravening idea as that.
Final track (believe it or not, it’s only a set of seven) ‘The Surrender’ is atypically anticipated as the acoustic one for light-footed closer. It pastes a harmonica across it and Durst stretches his confined melodic talent to sing in the gloomy sort of vein of Corey Taylor. No wonder he’s a rapper and not one of the tenser scores of alt-metal emotives on the scene at the moment, as his mangled voice is mangled further by weak and soppy lyrics with all the rap fury of the tracks leading up to it abruptly gone. Where’s your mask? You hate to label this desperate man ‘a monster,’ as he begs us not to in this very odious ode, but from the disaster that this Part I ‘concept album’ is, it’s impossible not to.
The question now is if Limp Bizkit will be able to hang on to either their label or the diehard fans left, before one or both drop away after the mind-numbing, innocent half-hour wasted by feeding this to your stereo. At least the dry minds of the band keep it short; if it were any longer, we might not have made it past the offputting cover art. Because through and through, this cut is just a file-and-forget-it towering expedition down the weathered nu-metal track, and put simply, good mother Earth has no time any longer to be at the controls of Limp Bizkit’s joyless joyride.
Track List [x indicates standout track]
1. The Propaganda
2. The Truth
3. The Priest
4. The Key
5. The Channel
6. The Story
7. The Surrender
Similar Artists: You know, they’re getting harder and harder to find
Heavy: Well, if you call speaking over guitars heavy, then yes… no ‘hardcore’
Swearing: Hell yes
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