So [a]Limp Bizkit[/a] are Number One in America. Your parents can sing a word-perfect rendition of The Offspring. We’ve seen some strange musical fads in our time but big-shorted punk rock is certainly the weirdest.
Indeed, if A are Britain’s major contribution to the movement, things are even worse than we first thought. This, their second album, reeks of sickening pretence, of five slightly desperate men clinging to their youth as it beats a hasty retreat. A play it fast and very loud in the hope no-one realises they’ve forgotten all the tunes. Such a racket is bad enough when peddled by bands like Symposium, but at least they’re young enough to avoid looking totally ridiculous when they jump around. A, frankly, should know better.
Occasionally, they seem to see sense. On a couple of tracks (‘Hopper Jonnus Fang’, ‘A’), they stop shrieking tunelessly and instead turn out laid-back Beach Boys numbers. It’s a pleasant, but short-lived, relief as vocalist Jason Perry seems to prefer yelling your head off. Listening to him is a bit like watching an early midlife crisis in process – he might as well be shouting, “Kids! I’m really young and hip! Please like me!”
It’s worse than embarrassing. Still, at least your parents will love it.