[a]Godsmack[/a] are yet another one in the eye for the notion that [a]Nirvana[/a]’s impact on heavy metal ran any deeper than changing a few haircuts. Whereas once heavy rock and metal were the chosen soul-balm for bright, disaffected teens in suburbs the world over, metal in the late-’90s seems to be dominated by slob-rocking, stay-at-home MTV watchers.
Boston geeks [a]Godsmack[/a] (apparently massive in America but who cares?) are a case in point. They boast all the de rigueur post-[a]Nirvana[/a] trimmings (black clothes, no big hair) but you get the feeling that their look and sound are all appropriated from the last big-budget rawk video they caught on cable. It’s metal as career, as well-researched market placement.
You’ve got to feel for them though, they even brought along their own crash barriers (ever hopeful) because everyone knows that in contempo-metal the further you are from your audience the more successful you evidently are – the communal artist/audience space that [a]Nirvana[/a] fought so hard for is once more in retreat.
“You’re a bunch of drinking animals!” yells frontman Sully (a midget in bondage trousers, who claims to be a witch) to two bored farmers politely bouncing at the front. “Does anyone around here get fucking naked?” When their mothers bathe them, perhaps.