Thanks, But I'm Good on the Return of Limp Bizkit

Deceptive nostalgia wins the weekend at Lollapalooza

When I was in middle school, I had an art teacher who was a “free-spirited” Deadhead. At the age of hormonal and life changes, kids flocked to his class as a counter to the structure the rest of the days were filled with. He was an all-around good dude who was always ready to make you laugh (when was the last time you were asked about your thoughts on the possibility of spontaneous human combustion?).

What everyone also loved was his insistence on playing music while working on projects. Even better, the selection was rotated amongst the tables. Someone from each four top brought in a CD for the day, usually agreed upon by all your friends at the desk.

As this was a middle school in the late nineties, most selections varied between the boy bands and Brittney Spears, Red Hot Chili Peppers and Incubus, and even NOFX and The Exploited, played by the kids with glue in their hair.

This art teacher was down for all of it unless he had enough for the day, and then it was usually jazz. What a saint.

All was fair game until someone brought in Three Dollar Bill Y’All, the debut record by Limp Bizkit. The album starts with a clip of a preacher at the pulpit:

“Use your vehicle of salvation, my brothers, go buy a gun.
And go give that gun to Jesus and say, "Jesus... you go kill the disciples of Satan.”

As it went on, the art teacher’s head shot up from his book. Before Fred Durst could even finish screaming about how he’d “probably never understand pollution,” Mr. Never Lose His Cool popped the top on the boombox and threw the CD against the wall.

“NEVER BRING THAT SHIT INTO MY CLASSROOM AGAIN,” he scolded before calmly returning to his desk.

This past weekend, Lollapalooza returned to Chicago.

Over the four days, the schedule reflected a typical festival lineup where the day slots are reserved for little-knowns and up and comers, while the evenings were filled with today’s headliners as well as legacy acts.

Ranging from Miley Cyrus’s jukebox karaoke show to a well-deserved Tyler, the Creator top spot, the lineup made sense for current artists. The legacy acts were inoffensive, ranging from Foo Fighters to Modest Mouse to whoever is in Journey these days.

But the headscratcher most talked about was the return of Limp Bizkit on Saturday night.

After being out of the spotlight for two decades, the band mainly toured as part of festivals that featured other washed-up acts, often placing mid-bill.

The last time the band was in this position was their headlining spot at Woodstock ‘99. I’d imagine that when most people around at that time think of Limp Bizkit, this is the first thing that comes to mind.

I watched the whole thing unfold in my basement as some friends and I ordered the festival on Pay Per View. While the crowd was already almost out of control, Limp Bizkit and Fred Durst turned up the thermostat and told them to tear shit up before cracking into their TRL mega-hit “Break Stuff.”

The media spliced clips of the Sunday night riots and fires (which came to a head during Red Hot Chili Peppers and Megadeth’s sets) in with the Limp Bizkit performance, who’d played the night before. This didn’t help their case, but the band wasn’t innocent in the fiasco. There was a lot of groping and assault in the crowd, and Durst’s encouragement made things worse.

It’s easy to look back over twenty years later and say that things should have gone differently, but festivals are usually a shitshow, and Woodstock ‘99 was a fine example.

This lasting impression is why the internet went nuts this past Saturday night.

The image everyone has of Fred Durst is his red Yankees hat, Jncos, and optional chain wallet. On Saturday night, Durst came out in a normcore raincoat, aviators, and his grey hair grown out, acting as no one has ever seen the Beastie Boys “Sabotage” video. The image makeover and playing a new song called “Dad Vibes” (insert audible groan) had the music world buzzing.

I spent some time scrolling Twitter and Instagram during the set, and it seems my fellow Millenials let that saccharine nostalgia get the best of them. My feed was full of “always loved these guys” and “Limp Bizkit is back!”. Soon, the publications followed, swooning over the set.

This whole thing seems wild.

While Limp Bizkit was never critical darlings, no one can doubt their ability to sell albums in the nineties. Three Dollar Bill Y’All is a double-platinum record, and their even bigger follow-up Significant Other is certified platinum seven times. That is insane to think about with the state of physical media sales in 2021.

Limp Bizkit defined the nu-metal scene from their early placement on the Warped Tour to the heyday of the Family Values Tour and dominating TRL during the height of nineties boy bands.

The feat was impressive at the time, but the band has been a joke for twenty years now.

Guitarist Wes Borland wisely left the band after their third album, Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water (so funny, guys). They would release a few albums without him, but the hits had run out, and it was as if Limp Bizkit had disappeared off the face of the planet.

At the same time, Radiohead stepped in, releasing their landmark Kid A record, and The Strokes said enough was enough when they released their debut Is This It? the following year. Everyone put on skinny jeans and vintage wares while burying the Jncos and nu-metal CDs in the closet.

Even Fred Durst let up on his music career and instead focused on directing movies. While his debut, The Education of Charlie Banks was met with mixed reviews, his last film in 2019 was a doozy.

Fanatic stars John Travolta in a downright offensive portrayal of an autistic man who stalks a film star, played by Devon Sawa, another nineties throwback. Fanatic had me rolling as someone who enjoys a “so bad; I love it” movie.

Just look at this masterpiece of a scene where Limp Bizkit comes on the car radio, and Devon Sawa sounds like a grandpa, telling his kid, “this is what I listened to back in my day.”

I’m not innocent in this whole thing. I listened to Significant Other an unhealthy amount of times and enjoyed the ridiculous music videos. But I never bought the red Yankees hat (which Durst aped from Spike Lee) and thought seven-stringed guitars were comically unnecessary.

When The Strokes, Arctic Monkeys, and The Killers showed up, I was more than happy to trade in the nu-metal. I still listen to Deftones, who defy the odds by regularly releasing great albums that are critically acclaimed, but a Limp Bizkit revival?

This ain’t it.

In an age of societal reflection and working toward understanding your fellow humans’ struggle, it’s hard to see a bunch of snotty white guys from Jacksonville who lifted black hip-hop culture in a positive light. Punk and grunge had an authenticity to the sneering, but what were Limp Bizkit pissed off about? The suburbs are sleepy, but 9/11 and the endless hell cycle fallout hadn’t happened yet.

I love nothing more than a comeback story, but Limp Bizkit should be a footnote in pop culture, not something you’re about to pay $150 to see this summer.

There’s so much great music made now, and no need to go back to this clown show.

Tell me about your red Yankees hat you wore from 1997-2000 in the comments.

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