Worchester Centrum

As wastes of time go, its not bad...

[a]Eminem[/a] has some judgement issues. Stalking the stage with a fuck-off ‘Role Model’ and a hockey-masked, chainsaw rip through ‘Kill You’, it’s clear that

lack of judgement, that unedited and off-the-hook-thing is what Eminem does best. Unfortunately, self-censorship manages to slim Shady‘s set into mere snippets and bits of all his hip-hop hits, leaving his sharp tongue and twisted rhymes blunted by staged theatrics. The mocked-up set of childhood home is the perfect backdrop his sharp-eye/dull knife probe of his personal demons like ‘Brain Damage’, but instead he switches to a castle, burning ten minutes of time better spent on finishing ‘Stan’, which is mercilessly

hacked off after two verses.

Eminem does take time to get gets some shots in. A pop-shot goes to *N SYNCwith a cover entitled ‘Tearing Up My Ass’, sending a shock wave of confusion through the throng of squealing teenage girls who have just thrown up their hands in excitement without knowing there’s a punchline. He also continues to his tirade against his critics, with the self-obsessed question, “How many of you are tired of hearing people talk shit about me?” That’s just the way he is, apparently.

Never to be outdone on shock value, expletive bombardier Fred Durst and Limp Bizkit turn up in a Voltron-inspired set filled with powder-keg pyrotechnics. Following Eminem doesn’t make Fred Durst‘s already questionable lyrical skills look any better. To his credit though, rhyme biter and rap-cliche writer that he is, Durst does at least have the good taste to recycle heavy hitters like Eric B. and Rakim, Frank Sinatra and Guns N? Roses.

Lyrics aside, Limp Bizkit are not just another dumb-rock band. This is one smart, dumb-rock band. No teen is left untouched. ‘Nookie’, ‘Faith’ have that depth-charge bass and crunched guitar, that “Get the Fuck Up!” moment when Durst launches himself in the air, only to have the whole backwards-hatted crowd go apeshit as he touches down. They know the buttons and how to push them. Even canned lines like, “Are you happy? Are you having a good time? Cause other than that I just don’t give a fuck” and the scripted introduction to ‘Take a Look Around’(“We won’t change, not for anything. I promise”) provoke enormous cheers. Durst manages to back-peddle on his ill-conceived MTV appearance with Christina Aguilera,

dedicating ‘Break Stuff’ to “that fucking bitch”.

This isn’t deep-just another bang-heads-for-a-buck episode of Jerry Springer: “Angry bands and the children who love them”, but, as wastes of time go, it’s not so bad.

Benjamin Wolford