To cover Limp Bizkit’s earLy touring for the upcoming album Stampede of the Disco Elephants, well, if you are a longtime loyal fan it defied words, except perhaps ‘more please’. If you are an average fan you would say it kicked ass visually, sounded incredible, that our boys sound better than ever, though perhaps you wished some extra commercial shit was in there, disappointed to have not heard your favorite. Fuck it though. To each their own. Now, if you are Limp impartial, then you absolutely couldn’t deny the energy, stamina, art, texture and climate that has made Limp Bizkit an institution and pioneering godfather band of a breed of rock music that didn’t exist before they blew up the scene in the late 90′s. Today labeled “Nu Metal” or “Metal Rap”, the sound is still done no justice by the coined terms developed specifically so the music and sound of this band could be discussed in the soundbites of 97 pop culture.
So count this chic up in category one. Longtime Limp respecter of the real shit. The music. The uniquely out of box artistry of Fred, Wes and separated/departed whatever the true case of the matter = irrelevant to the honest talent and contributions of DJ Lethal. So, being on of the no words gang, I instead will call upon the long ago rocked out words of Fred Durst vocals circa year 2000 to relay my sentiments post live coverage and critical response from a girl who can’t bullshit: I believe it went a little something like… “now all these critics wanna hit it….“ Touche’. Well. I suppose I can’t speak for ALL critics. But….. ;)x Some intel I am privy to first hand.
On the lesser media radar these past years, Limp Bizkit never left the rotation of MP3 standbys in my trusted iPod soundtrack of life. With all the changes that were making the media airwaves, I wasnt sure entirely what to expect live as I walked into their second stop on the tour, TOTALLY FUCKING LATE, about to undertake a blogging excursion with the first time daunting task of General Admission + a new boyfriend in tow. Responsibility for accommodation of another human being is rather double-edged isn’t it? Geddis is a whole other blog, one I promise to share since many a reader may drop a jaw to picture me paired up with just about any normal homosapian. He is all kinds of great and not great things, but normal is boring and normal he is not. He is New Jersey testosterone meets tender, patient redhead enthusiast, and I met my match indeed.
A local fixture in the scene, Geddis, a man you will all come to know and love like I do I am certain, in this case grossly over estimated his importance of the night within this oversold, way too packed Pony, room of rocked out, kinda inebriated fans and douchebags alike, that truly…. well, they were a par group for a rock show. But my chosen manfriend is no rockerboy, this is true. Real things first? Geddis is a guys guy who is neither a major fan of Bizkit, nor a major fan of my attention going solely to the band. To both, no compromise is to be had. So alas, Geddis chose the bar over a decent placement in the crowd. In this evening, the compromises of girlfriendhood truely cost me my rockergirl credo spot, positioned to bring you the always attainable, best fan positioned images for this show. Responsible, showing up early earned, get the good but anyrockerwoman or man shit, the old-fashioned way: well maybe it’s not always attainable when love and rock and roll collide for the top billing in moments of EVERYDAY life intersecting with my crazy, oft surreal work life. I sold out your seats readers, knowingly, for love. Or cock. Maybe both…. Whatever. I do apologize, but seek your understanding forgiveness in relay of honest to God motive here. Geddis has an ass that warrants following around, trust me.
In honest laying of my logic out for ya; it’s a little something like this Fred Durst comes and goes in my rock and roll town. However, I sleep (and get put behind on sleep for greater endeavors) next to the dude I elected to follow rounds to the Pony’s array of handy location bars, as Geddis remained confident in the crowd of his ability to get us back to the barricade where I live as a blogger. I was vocally skeptical, bordering on demasculine-izing taunts. Yet, I let him lead. Thats my way. Thats the order of the world folks. Women nag. Men lead. Men have to be let to be wrong. I defend that to this day And be assured, Geddis made it up to me later (sincerely and skillfully, thus all was forgiven) But more important to the greater good, he made it up to you lovely readers as well by ensuring he was the fucking paparazzi in that bitch once the redhead switch triggered alarm bells and less than demurely reminded him of the global reliance of my rocker readers on pics before dicks. He got it.
So, I managed my way to the best place I could, and refused to budge for beer or nuclear collision. I planted! And with my mancandy bf turned photo maven, successful only through the grace of properly fucking awesome frontman finesse that managed to work the entire chaos jammed room, indeed: plenty of great show shots showed up in the repertoire for your second-hand viewing pleasure. Rocker-kingdom echoes a big THANK YOU to FRED DURST! The fan attentiveness seriously slaps the taste out of a stereotype that I can tell you first hand is utterly incorrect and contrary to my experience.
* And: Geddis, we are all positive you learned much about rocker red velvet rope manifesto through the trial and error, and subsequent wrath of the red-headed variety through the lived and learned, Kim-guided experience he embarked upon, and fell over, for Limp Bizkit, NJ that April balmy night. And, do pray for him, this extremely gentle and practical soul ladies and gents. He rides a crazy train ever more with this chic, and I just KNOW that you all doubt me not on that point for even a second. I am certain you can just imagine the pair we make!
Taking in the sights and sounds of todays Limp Bizkit, no matter your seat in the house, leaves a taste that wets a palate for the full meal. There has been no lyrical energy, skill filled talent, angry-sensitive dichotomous stage drive or charismatic sex appeal lost in the fray of temporary absence of Limp Bizkit from our NuMetal tapestry. It is nothing short of the sport they invented and a hearty welcome back for Fred Durst, Wes Borland, Sam Rivers and John Otto. Their time away from the public eye served only to wet our appetite and peak our curiosity for what was ahead. Ok. Not ONLY our appetite and curiosity, but read on…. and check out those goodies for yourselves.
Yes. It looked like so. Once upon a time in a little local haute music mecca we all like to call upon in the times of musical need, The Stone Pony, this newly transplanted redheaded blogging, managing, still moving the music shop from west coast to east, crazy, frantically overwhelmed Seattle RockerGirl said fuck responsibility, I want to see my Jacksonville dudes play some loud soul exorcism reliable ear candy. She cancelled her trip home to Seattle, and ever glad that she had by this evenings end, she had come to witness Limp Bizkit blow up their first concert performance of their new single Ready To Go, she had a newfound affinity for Fred Durst that she echoed involuntarily for days after laying eyes on the full beard that had been folded into the styling mix of the still urbanrock, eyes that could almost confuse the typecast accuracy of a bad boy frontman. Almost. Charm gets ya everywhere sometimes. Watch and learn fellas. Durst still drops panties. It happened all around the Stone Pony.
But our redhead. Well. She felt right at home as a set list reorg unfolded in the sidelines of the show; alas, moments later, such left her taking in this sight of a full bearded Durst, but the sound of the familiar MetalRap vocalist echoing instead a serenade unto this Seattle Girls ears under a duo of Nirvana classics (truly, I am not a big Nirvana crazed chic, however the sentimentality made me a little wet. I must admit. I shake my head still at the artful charm inherent to Leo males skill set.) I promise rocker family, to neither let the collisions of homeward emotional connectedness to ALL APOLOGIES or SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT or the wet panties it produced (I neither removed not through mine, lest any of the onstage decorations by nights end be ascribed over yonder. My office is just blocks away now. Who needs that kinda business card making the press? Neither of these shall color my commentary of this concert, or lead you astray in your own eventual mutual understanding of the powerful refinement that has developed in this band since we last saw them.
I dare say there is a more mature undertone to the delivery of the music, but its Bizkit. I feel like the word mature can’t quite conjure up the proper image of the reliable energy, delivery, quality of show and music that is still the hallmark of Bizkit. Check the new single. It shows you what I mean. Maybe it just feels a little more tight and experienced in delivery of all we would expect from Bizkit. To take in Limp Bizkit like we love em, but just a notch or two more cozy and skilled, PERFECT for this chic. Just enough of an unfamiliar undertone in the senses to magnet over my elusive attention, still blow our minds and eardrums like the sure things I magnet to all the same. Bizkit 2013? I AM SOLD.
With the release of the music video for the single Ready to Go hitting the globe next week, undoubtably an onslaught of opinions are about to meet my thoughts head to head, for better or worse. As they breathe in the familiar air of the sound of Bizkit, joined with the yet to be seen visual take, with the William’s brothers Cash Money records behind them this time, I am anxiously awaiting the music industry commentary on what I see as a return of a needed band into the gaping hole they left in the art and market of a genre they forefronted, and no question are set to again for the next round of fans. I feel pretty strong about it. But a career made itself for me out of my wonton distaste for bullshit suits and a scapegoat machine that lives long and strong in musicland to protect a greedy inside by framing the spoons they try to feed us here on the outside, where our wallets fund their paychecks, ever larger than the bands.
For Limp Bizkit, the start out of summer at home in Florida, then to our Jersey Shore, ended up for the band to be just the beginning of a summer defined by a remarkable series of equally successful world wide tour stops that mimicked the accolades and reception they received in the closing Monday of April here in Asbury Park. A new album upcoming later this summer, just dangling like a carrot waiting to toss a salad that has been damn near stale and ranch dressing deprived for YEARS, I can tell you: Bizkit is coming for a new generation of fans! And if you loved them prior, well. Get ready for a notch or two of adrenaline as your own gaping hole is expertly filled in all you’ve been missing from Limp Bizkit. It is coming…..and better than ever.
Announced so very clearly, just moments into the show, a sincere and heartfelt Durst echoed into the crowd “I love this shit. It is just so intimate in here. This is great”. And, it was. This wouldnt have been plausible decades back and I doubt it will be again. The Stone Pony oversold the show by 71. That is 971 bodies in the best fucking bar on planet earth, and not accounting for the bodies of employees, band members or adjoining entourage and tour peeps and neither the in house sound tech crew, nor the third party vendors. Easy, EASY 1150+. To Limp Bizkit:
PS: On the crowd, bc you know I have my faves and I have my fucktard stories, ALWAYS> YES, there was THAT douchebag present here too. And this time I jammed a thumb having to push the guy away as he tried to elbow me like the chickenshit he was. Again fuckbags that get cant hold booze, clearly that have major issues all up in them to even act that way in a room of people towards a female thats a total stranger to them (perhaps somehow the red hair, pigtails, tattoos and calm, focused, content watching of a concert somehow is an invite to try to exploit the lack of dick and demonstrate some testosterone> I dunno. And, alas this time i was with another male too! Apparently being a chic standing solo wasn’t really the lure as I once predicted. Hmmm) So, as for how it worked out for him. If you see an over the hill, pretty much balding comb over like, 5’4, wannabe Guido past his prime (and, btw this dude could never, ever have even deserved that kinda billing in life without the wannabe preface. Believe me. He isnt fit for G) DONT fuck with rocker girls dickless, spineless pricks. Please. It never pays your way in looking like anything other than a drunk fuck who got put in your dunst aura-d never social ditch publicly BY A GIRL. Just. I would take fifty jammed thumbs any day just to watch a guy like this have to suck it up and move along. Yes. It was good times as usual in rockerland.
Keep your eye on the Limp Bizkit website for upcoming releases and news.
We at MRGLITR will see all you readers soon for coverage of HEART w/ JASON BOHNAM to celebrate that sexy bitch we call freedom! Keep checkin back!
<3 and rock on family.
And red-headed unity came straight to mind, offered here as our parting thought. An anonymous fan gift that came as I compiled notes and material for this blog. A red butterfly (the Dior fob and cheap ass metal, well. Thats all RockerGirl, but) to the butterfly sharer reader out there, thank you kindly for sharing sucha kick ass peice of art….
The color red has numerous meanings. It is the color of energy, passion and action. It is also the color of anger.
Far from being a flighty, fluffy symbol - the animal symbolism of the butterfly is about profound changes of the soul.
To all the RedHeaded, RedHated, or just RedHearted souls out there; your my kinda peeps. Always rock who you are with a high head and whole heart!