“When a population becomes distracted by trivia, when cultural life is redefined as a perpetual round of entertainments, when serious public conversation becomes a form of baby-talk, when, in short, a people become an audience, and their public business a vaudeville act, then a nation finds itself at risk; culture-death is a clear possibility.”
One of my favourite pieces of nu-metal flotsam is Limp Bizkit‘s EP, The Unquestionable Truth (Part 1). Released in May of 2005, it went practically unnoticed by fans and general listeners.
For frontman Fred Durst, that was the whole point.
For a time, Limp Bizkit were the biggest band in the world. They went from nothing to something pretty damn quick with their debut, 1997’s Three Dollar Bill, Y’All$. They saw the turn of the new millennium with their biggest albums in terms of first-week sales — 1999’s Significant Other (635,000), 2000’s Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water (1,055,000), and 2003’s Results May Vary (325,000). Chocolate Starfish broke the record for the largest ever first-week sales debut for a rock album, beating the record previously set by Pearl Jam’s Vs.
Each release had its own strategies with marketing and promotion. Three Dollar Bill was met with controversy when it was revealed the single “Counterfeit” was part of a pay-to-play agreement between Interscope Records and radio stations. Significant Other was accompanied by a guerrilla tour of sorts, where the band would play impromptu rooftop concerts in various cities that were quickly shut down by local police. They celebrated the release of Chocolate Starfish with a VIP party at the Playboy Mansion. The guest list included Courtney Love, Tommy Lee, Pauly Shore, Ashton Kutcher… really a who’s who of the day. Results May Vary was accompanied by a making-of documentary on MTV, giving fans a view into the band’s life during the album’s sessions.
In their heyday, Limp Bizkit headlined sellout tours all over the world, alongside the likes of Staind, Kid Rock, Eminem, Papa Roach, Xzibit, and of course longtime friends Korn, just to name a few.
For The Unquestionable Truth, the band marked the album’s release by doing absolutely nothing. No big budget videos, no gigantic arena tour, not even a few club dates. Any time Durst did an interview that year, it was usually for some other project he was working on, whether it be directing indie films, or signing bands to his label, Flawless. According to an MTV News feature, he left us only with a simple blog post:
“I love the truth. That’s what it’s all about. No bells and whistles. No sugarcoating the truth. For some, it could be a bit too much to comprehend. Fuck ’em.”
“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak,” the philosopher Sun-Tzu once said. “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”
In 1799, George Washington wrote that in fighting, one ought to ” …make them believe, that offensive operations, often times, is the surest, if not the only (in some cases) means of defence.”
Durst had never been one to shy away from the warpath before, what with his feuds with every artist on the planet and all. But in the case of The Unquestionable Truth, I’m not sure what the underlying strategy was. In its first week, the EP managed to sell 37,000 copies, peaking at number twenty-four on the Billboard 200.
Not exactly what you’d call stellar if you’re making it a numbers game.
I was one of the few who actually bought a copy here in Australia. I was taking classes at the Centre for Adult Education at the time, and between classes I would casually browse through JB Hi-Fi, back in the days when they were primarily about CDs, DVDs, and stereos. I get to the letter “L” in the hard rock/heavy metal section, and lo and behold. This weird little album from Limp Bizkit that just happened to be there. I hadn’t heard about or from the band for what seemed like an eternity, so you could imagine my surprise. So I bought it, played it, and enjoyed it. An accidental discovery that would stay in my playlists for the rest of my life.
Was this what Durst wanted? For fans to stumble on the EP, like finding an unexpected five dollar note in the wash? The rest of the band — Sam Rivers (bass), John Otto (drums), DJ Lethal, and guitarist Wes Borland — surely had their own opinions. Borland went on the record to describe this non-strategy as “self-sabotage.”
“Maybe he was already unhappy with the music, and he didn’t really want to put it out there,” the legendary guitarist said in an interview with MTV. “It was definitely self-sabotage. I don’t think Limp is actually very relevant [to] people anymore. We’ve been one of the most hated bands in the world for a long time, and I just think people are over it.”
Durst felt differently.
“It felt good to go out there and sell 30 million records and come back and do something that we wouldn’t tell anyone about and feel like a real band again that was doing something just because we wanted to do it,” he said. “Instead of Wes coming back and let’s shove everything down everyone’s throat, let’s just do something for us.”
Maybe Borland had a point. The nu-metal genre was pretty much dead by 2005. Linkin Park were going in a more experimental rock-oriented direction with future releases. Staind kept things going with a healthy balance of acoustic ballads in addition to their signature grunge-revivalist sound. New albums by Slipknot, Mudvayne, and Disturbed were taking things in a more thrash-inspired direction. Metalcore and emo bands were now filling arenas. Korn and P.O.D. were still carrying the torch, but they were part of the genre’s foundation and had earned the core fanbases to support themselves, with or without mainstream adoration.
In this environment, maybe all Durst wanted was to make something raw and organic, throw it out there, and see if it stuck.
Listen to the EP itself, it’s half an hour long. The polished, high-definition of Terry Date was out. The services of Ross Robinson — the so-called “godfather of nu-metal” who helmed the production of debut albums by Limp Bizkit, Korn, and Slipknot — were brought in. The EP also saw the return of Borland, who had left the band in 2001. Fans saw a glimpse of this in August of 2004; a cursory visit to the band’s official website around this time would have revealed photos of him with the band on the front page.
This confirmed the departure of Mike Smith, who was in Borland’s slot for Results May Vary. He did some great work with the band, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
Recording sessions took place in Northern California, before Durst and Robinson flew off to Prague to provide lyrics. Otto was in rehab for most of the EP’s sessions, with Sammy Siegler — who is known in the New York hardcore scene and had previously worked with artists like Patti Smith — taking the drum stool for every track except “The Channel.”
The overall instrumentation was heavier and more aggressive than ever before, and Durst looked to the external world for lyrical inspiration. “The Propaganda” opens with a truly monstrous Borland riff, with Durst attacking the mainstream media for its manipulative tactics in feeding information to the public for the purpose of reinforcing dominant institutions, government or business. “The Priest” goes right for the jugular, condemning child abuse within religious institutions. It feels even more potent when you consider the “values” these institutions purport to uphold. “The Channel” concerns itself with Durst’s disillusionment and disconnection from the corporate nature of music, TV, and all forms of entertainment for sale. The bridge sums it up nicely:
“Who gives a fuck about what I like?
Who gives a fuck about who listens?
As long as I’m here
As long as you know you can keep me here
For whenever you get lost
Or you need an excuse to cover up your intentions
You hate that I express how I’m feeling
You hate that you relate to this shit
You hate that I’m a tick, a motherfucking tick
You’re finding hard to forget”
It might seem weird, but to me it calls to mind the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, and their spoken-word masterpiece, “Television, the Drug of the Nation.” As an artist, maybe Durst just wanted people to wake up. Of course, it’s up to the people, but I definitely understand his frustration.
“The Truth” boasts a strong industrial sound, reflecting on the hypocrisy and deception of religious and political leaders of the world. The entire notion of what “truth” might be is thrown into question, and I loved the refrain during the bridge against the criss-crossing instrumentation of Rivers and Borland.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name
Deliver me from evil, deliver me from evil!”
I might be backing the favourite here, but it’s my favourite track on the album.
Previous releases saw Durst pissed at everything and nothing in particular. On The Unquestionable Truth, his discontent shifts towards systems of control, and there’s a strong sense of paranoia, betrayal, and existential anxiety that permeates the EP’s tracks.
I can sort of see why Durst went with the non-engagement strategy when it came time for the EP’s release, in order to disassociate himself from the mainstream and its institutions by categorisation.
“I’m the main one in the band right now trying to go anti-everything,” he said in an interview with MTV. “I feel like radio and television are selling so much shit these days and that shit is not who I want to be.”
Of course, you had experts weighing in.
“I can’t remember a band that’s tried this approach,” MTV quoted Ferrett Music head of sales Marc Schapiro as saying. “Even when a band says, ‘We’re letting the music do the talking,’ it’s in an interview where they’re saying that. There’s not even that.”
Geoff Mayfield of Billboard described it as a “curious strategy.” Indeed.
There was the question as to whether Durst was looking to gain some much-needed underground cred after being something of a pop cliche for so long.
“Credibility flows naturally from making great music that people care about,” Gregg Spotts of the Shortlist Music Prize was also quoted as saying. “Looking back at the rap-rock of the ’90s, I think Rage Against the Machine were making timeless music and Bizkit were posturing. My big question on the new gambit is whether Bizkit are willing to tour crammed in a 15-passenger van. Now that would bring a little cred.”
While Durst wanted to stay quiet for the release of The Unquestionable Truth, Interscope basically forced him to do at least some press for the band’s career retrospective, Greatest Hitz. The compilation album was also released at the label’s insistence rather than the band’s.
“I’d rather put out the Greatest Hits whenever I felt it was time,” Durst would say in an interview with Ultimate Guitar. “And I’d rather be on tour and write a new album. I think it’s pretty immature. It’s not time for the Greatest Hits right now and I just wasn’t prepared for it!”
Here’s the thing: You can be underground. You can take a step back from the spotlight and let the music speak for itself. But when music is your source of income — for both you and your band — then it’s okay to put yourself out there, to run ads or film a music video. A great example of this is what Linkin Park during the Hybrid Theory era. They explicitly told their label not to just push out singles to radio and TV. Instead, the band would let fans choose which songs would get played. They could have that commercial success and still have the respect.
Easy for me to say as an outsider, but I say it with the wisdom of knowing that it’s true.
Critics were dumbfounded by Durst’s decision not to tour or promote the EP in any way. As was Borland, who departed Limp Bizkit again soon after, figuring there was no point in having an inactive unit as his primary goal. Despite Durst’s enthusiasm in interviews, he didn’t quite share the sentiment. He would focus his efforts fronting on Black Light Burns, who would release their debut, Cruel Melody, in 2007. With the exception of a greatest hits compilation at the end of 2005, all Bizkit activities came to a standstill until their 2009 reunion.
In the end, there never was a Part 2 EP. Reunited, the band recorded a full-length album, 2011’s Gold Cobra. When questioned on new material, Durst would only hint that the band were working on something really heavy. Some may have interpreted this as a sequel EP, perhaps. But nothing came. A smattering of singles would round out the decade, before the release of Still Sucks in 2021. At this point, it’s safe to say that any follow-up to The Unquestionable Truth has disappeared into the ether.
The Unquestionable Truth era began and ended with one EP that definitely stands out in Limp Bizkit’s discography, lyrically and musically. It’s an outlier in the entire nu-metal movement as well, and it did manage to catch the attention of critics, whether Limp Bizkit was their thing or not.
Songs from the EP get played live to this day, and the crowds seem to love them. Durst and the band should take a little pride in what they created there.
If not, I’m glad Durst got whatever it was that he wanted out of his system.
Lawrence Deveney 