1001 SONGS

The video of for this song that I watched starts with the words “THIS-IS-YOUR-NEW-FUCKING-NATIONAL-ANTHEM” being screamed at a large crowd of scary youths who are treating Slipknot like the second-coming. 

Which seems about right.

Ugh Slipknot. We meet again. Sadly.  

I know this song very well, because I know this band very well. Not even remotely through choice, but through my little brother. He force fed Slipknot onto me every day for around a year, back when I was 16, and he 14. 

Slipknot turned our idyllic riverside house into a war zone. Our poor parents. Our poor neighbours. Our poor pets.

For some reason, that still escapes me, as soon as my brother hit puberty and discovered his love for nu-metal, the only way that he would get out of bed, and ready for school, was to play the dulcet tones of Slipknot, at full volume, every day. We’re talking 7am. Have you heard Slipknot? Why don’t you try that in the morning and see how it goes?

I still don’t know why this became his ritual. 

Was this just his age?

Or despite all his rage was he still just a rat in a cage? 

(See what I did there?!)

At the time, I considered myself much more sophisticated than him, in musical taste, with my Britpop, Radiohead, Beatles, and stacks of Q Magazines. I was the grown up one. So much more mature. 

However I was not sophisticated when it came to handling my brother: 

I’d scream at him to TURN IT DOWN. 

He’d scream back NO.

I’d storm into his room.

He’d force me back out. 

I’d cry. 

He’d turn the music up louder. 

I’d slam my door.

He’d slam his door. 

I’d tell him to fuck off.

He’d tell me to go fuck himself. 

Repeat x 3 

The music was just such aggressive, screeching, gross, masculine, cock-swinging, noise. I’m all for diversity in musical taste, but no one needs that much anger and confrontation in their lives each morning. 

It’s no wonder I enjoy living by myself so much.

Thanks for the memories, Slipknot. Another 15 years apart will be just fine. 


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