ARTIST: Korn
ALBUM: Korn III: Remember Who You Are
LABEL: Roadrunner Records
RELEASE DATE: July 6, 2010
A Blast From The Past
Photo by Roadrunner Records
Written by Travis Reilly
It’s been 16 years since Korn’s eponymous release essentially birthed the nu-metal subgenre, permanently altering the rock music landscape. That first irate album sold millions of copies; primarily to teens wowed by the band’s abrasively fresh sound and drawn to Jonathan Davies’ heart-wrenching lyrical candor.
A lot can happen in a decade and a half. Many of those young boys and girls have eschewed their angry adolescence to embrace the benefits and trappings of bona fide adulthood. This isn’t to say alternative music’s target demographic is diminishing. With each generation, a new herd of reticent suburban teens struggle with the hardships of maturation and everyday life. And they too will crave relatable idols. In this sense, Korn’s well will never run dry.
Korn III: Remember Who You Are is the band’s ninth studio album and truthfully one of their better recent efforts. It’s no retread by any stretch but the band is clearly hoping to recapture a sound they helped to create in 1994. The album’s title plainly admits as much.
“Uber-time” is a hauntingly wonderful introduction to the album; a lingering, echoing melody played over someone’s vaguely poetic musings. As a post-rock style lead-in to Remember Who You Are’s first single, “Oidale (Leave Me Alone),” it’s a fascinating choice. As a duo, it’s the brightest spot of the album. The transition from the eerie opening to the calculated crudeness of “Oidale” is wonderfully jarring and it’s regretful that radio listeners won’t hear the two tracks in conjunction.
The rock-solid intro to “Pop a Pill” shows veteran bassist Reggie “Fieldy” Arvizu and rookie drummer Ray Luzier are already syncing nicely. The track is surprising, too, because its aural qualities are light and refreshing; upbeat, even. The gleeful romp around the major scale is merely a well-constructed façade, of course. “Happiness is seldom found,” sings Davies. “Pop the pill / I’m so happy now.”
“Move On” is a bit of a potholed listen. “I’m trying to please everyone around me,” screams an unfaltering Davies. His efforts, at least on this song, are met with only partial success. James “Munky” Schaffer’s riffs are engaging—he is of course a capable guitarist—but the song still doesn’t possess nearly enough musical depth. The texture lost since the retirement of legendary guitarist Brian “Head” Welch is continually missed.
Korn’s roots testosterone-injected roots are most accurately evoked in “Let the Guilt Go.” It’s a violently cathartic journey and it sounds like a B-Side they brought back from the 1990s. It’s a fine song, but it isn’t their best work here. They somewhat successfully re-bottled their original lightning, as it were, but perhaps they’ve found that old sound to be past its expiration date. This revelation should only free them from the constraints of recreating past glories, really. Korn needs remember who they are but they can’t let those memories dictate the band they seek to eventually become.