The more articles I read about nu-metal, the more I like nu-metal: this pretty much has me heading down the tattooists to get “Durst Rulez” on both forearms. Nu-metal pieces are starting to follow a set pattern: jaded twentysomething bitches wittily about how good or bad or funny or ironic old metal or grunge was, and then lays into nu metal for fakin’ it.

Yeah, yeah, fair enough, the records are crap. But the snickering seen-it-all insider tone of pieces like this smacks more of Boomers dissing punk than it does of useful criticism. Joey Sweeney has nothing new to say about nu-metal, he just wants the rock back. “This isn’t rock n roll” he keeps bleating. Well, you know, fuck rock n roll, it’s a junk nostalgia trip stuck in forty-year-old attitudes. The problem with Limp Bizkit is that they are rock n roll, its dumb bolshy bling-bling me-me-me essence dressed up in piercings and bleach and a stupid cap.

What’s more, who gives a shit whether Fred Durst means it? It’s like with boy bands – he means everything (or something) to the people listening, and that’s both more important and more interesting. But not to salaryman journalists who, you know, are so over all that angst stuff and can’t they have something Proper to review like Sleater-Kinney or the Go-Betweens?