Slipknot

Slipknot's Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses is not just a record. It's a statement. So many nay-sayers wanted to count Slipknot out: fickle fans, the press and various detractors—religious and otherwise. After the band's most violent, brutal and downright evil offering, Iowa, everything seemed fragmented. That album dropped at the end of August 2001, and soon after the U.S. suffered 9/11. Shows were canceled, and the post-9/11 climate wasn't as receptive to masochistic metal, laden with death metal riffs and blast beats as it might've been otherwise. Nevertheless, Iowa was a brilliant record. The band had become heavy metal icons with their debut, and they could've written an album with one "Wait and Bleed" after another, but instead they raised a prominent middle finger to everyone, constructing a schizophrenic homage to the underground. However, there was always a tension surrounding the aftermath of Iowa. Once the album's tour cycle ended in the Winter of 2002, drummer and songwriter Joey Jordison went off and did Murderdolls. Meanwhile, vocalist Corey Taylor and axe-man Jim Root topped the hard rock charts with Stone Sour. M. Shawn Crahan, a.k.a. "Clown," spent his time on a psychedelic pop group called To My Surprise. So between Iowa's last tour and late-2003, the Slipknot beast seemed to be stuck in a perpetual slumber. However, that was far from the case. After what seemed like a period of quiet, the band gathered at The Houdini Mansion in the Hollywood Hills to craft what would become one of the greatest heavy music releases ever: Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses.

Unlike most heavy metal classics, Vol. 3 doesn't drench itself in drugs or the Devil. Rather, it examines something far more dangerous and destructive: communication, or lack thereof. The songs delve into a quiet breakdown, starting at home. For starters, take the opening lyric on "Prelude 3.0," Corey Taylor, at a near-whisper, faintly drones, "I don't know why I never told you." Vol. 3 begins with a lack of communication, and ends the somber finale, "Danger-Keep Away," with an honest plea for everything to be OK. Remember, this is a band that had been immersed in various side projects, immediately after what seemed like a zenith point in their career. They obviously hadn't been talking constantly. Things were broken down. Once they hit that mansion in the Hills, the bridges were built again, and it all came back.

That bridge proved unshakeable over the course of Vol. 3's 14 tracks. Where Iowa paid tribute to Slayer and Deicide, Vol. 3 conjured Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. Eschewing the brain-bashing approach that opened their first two albums, Slipknot began Vol. 3 with the slow, psychedelic and brooding atmospherics of "Prelude 3.0." Brilliantly, Taylor screams at the end of the first song, "And now it's over." That's a slap-in-the-face to everyone that told Slipknot it was over. Begin your comeback record with the words "Now It's Over." Who said metal couldn't be highly intelligent? From "Prelude 3.0" the band launched into the military drumbeat death march of "The Blister Exists," which paired Taylor's cathartic roar and Jordison's percussive warfare like never before. "3 Nil" allowed Jim Root and Mick Thomson to fire off more of the riffs that would codify their guitar god-status. Songs like "Opium of the People," "Welcome" and "Pulse of the Maggots" introduced some Satanically speedy solos that further proved the band's virtuosity. "Vermillion" brought a deadly unrequited love to life with a moody guitar lead, and heart-wrenching, lovelorn chorus.

"Before I Forget" grooved like there would never be another chance to, and "The Nameless" could've been written by The Who, if Pete Townshend had a fascination with Slayer. Yet, the darkest moments on the album come in its most understated and mellow songs. "Vermillion Pt. 2," with its lush orchestrations and clean acoustic guitar, may very well be the darkest and most honest love song ever written. That's because it's about something more real for most people: loving someone who doesn't love you back. Another acoustic number, "Circle" is a pensive rumination of past sins and a cry for redemption.

Few musicians can put themselves through the instrumental rigors that Slipknot do and write such infectious fare. Paul Gray and Joey Jordison remain some of metal's most brilliant songwriters. Corey Taylor solidified his status as the voice of a disaffected nation with this record. Even the electronic flourishes courtesy of Craig and Sid, had been stepped up beyond belief.

No doubt, Vol 3. already has its spot in the heavy metal pantheon, but whatever Slipknot does next will surely be just as thought provoking, dangerous, groundbreaking and utterly alive.

—Rick Florino
03.25.08

[Editor's Note: In honor of Slipknot recording their next record and announcing their headlining spot on this summer's RockStar Mayhem tour, I wanted to take a second look at the band's third album, hope you enjoyed it as much as I do!]

Slipknot set out to construct the ultimate metal music flamethrower, ever since their genesis in a Des Moines, IA, basement. But they also deployed an agitprop campaign of masks, smocks, and bar codes that helped scare parents (like good metal should) and transform Slipknot fans into faithful "maggots." The Midwestern origin of all this craziness is genius, as the band's marrow-draining metal and twisted, fibrous mythology is antithetical to the region's milquetoast rep. Still, after the gothic nausea of 2001's Iowa, Slipknot's vitality dissipated in clouds of gaseous hype and individual indulgence. Had they grown fat on their thrones? Probably. But the layoff only makes Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses scream louder. Working with famously bearded helmer Rick Rubin -- aka He Who Smites Bullsh*t -- Slipknot pour the shrill accessibility of their self-titled debut down Iowa's dark sieve, and the result is flinty, angry, and rewardingly restless. Vol. 3 shares its lyrical themes of anger, disaffection, and psychosis with most of Slipknot's nu-metal peers. Lines like "I've screamed until my veins collapsed" and "Push my fingers into my eyes/It's the only thing that slowly stops the ache" (from the otherwise strong "Duality") aren't unique to this cult. But unlike so many, the band's sound rarely disassembles into genre building blocks: riff + glowering vocal + throaty chorus = Ozfest acceptance. What makes Vol. 3 tick is the dedication to making it a Slipknot album, and not just another flashy alt-metal billboard. The seething anger and preoccupation with pain is valid because it's componential to the group's uniquely branded havoc. "Blister Exists," "Three Nil," and "Opium of the People" are all standouts, strafing soft underbellies with rhythmic (occasionally melodic) vocals, stuttering, quadruple-helix percussion, and muted grindcore guitar. Rubin is integral to the album's power -- his cataclysmic vocal filters and arrays of unidentifiable squiggle and squelch unite Vol. 3's various portions in wildly different ways. Just when the meditative "Circles" threatens to keel over from melodrama, in sputters strings of damaged electronics and percussion to lead it into "Welcome," which sounds like Helmet covering Relapse Records' entire catalog at once. Later, another counterpoint is offered, when the swift boot kicks of "Pulse of the Maggots" and "Before I Forget" separate "Vermilion"'s gothic and acoustic parts. Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses doesn't feel like Slipknot's final statement. It's a satisfying, carefully crafted representation of their career to date. But there's a sense that whatever Slipknot do next might be their ultimate broadcast to the faithful. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide