Korn’s newfound fame only created additional woes for the band. More than any other album, Follow the Leader opened the floodgates for countless nu-metal acts to infiltrate the mainstream. At the 2000 Grammys, “Freak on a Leash” was nominated for best hard rock performance, and even won for best short form music video. Leader appropriately debuted atop the Billboard 200, selling 268,000 copies in its first week, eventually going 5x Platinum. But it was the right album at the right time. Outsider art turned pop, the hits were the kind of gonzo genius more respectable musicians wouldn’t dream of - nor the band’s many imitators.įollow the Leader, like many Korn albums, starts out strong and descends into aimless sludge. They were two of Korn’s strangest songs, and biggest singles to date - “Got the Life” was the first video ever to be retired from TRL, after being voted onto the countdown show for 73 days straight. And in “Freak on a Leash,” Jonathan Davis sang of his exploitation at the hands of the music industry, climaxing in an incomprehensible, scatted bridge. With its disco beat and atonal slap bass, “Got the Life” was the first Korn song that commanded you not to mosh, but dance. If Korn’s first two albums were funk turned evil, Follow the Leader added hooks - and a more prominent sense of black humor. It’s a sometimes thrilling, occasionally uncomfortable compromise between alt-metal and hip-hop sensibilities. 1998’s Follow the Leader brought them into the mainstream, cleaning up their sound with mixed results.
Korn not only survived, they achieved two Platinum albums, largely through touring and word of mouth - with little support from radio or the press. In Korn’s world, nothing made sense - all they could do was channel a lifetime of pain into one record.īut as it turned out, nothing made sense to many of the nation’s teenagers, too. The Bakersfield, California five-piece’s self-titled debut was wildly original: Jonathan Davis sang and scatted about self-loathing and abuse, while his band played dissonant, down-tuned funk rhythms. In 1994, Korn sounded like the end of music. Have we forgotten what made nu-metal appealing in the first place - the music? Do these albums still hold up today? And how did August 18, 1998, perhaps the biggest day in nu-metal history, influence the next 20 years of hard rock? News and hype traveled more slowly back then, and the broader cultural impact of the three LPs wouldn’t be felt until early 1999.
Few would have bought all three - at least, not on the day they were released. They didn’t sound that much alike - if nu-metal was high school, Korn were the weirdo stoners, Kid Rock the class clown, Orgy the goth theater kids. Tuesday Augsaw the release of three definitive nu-metal albums: Korn’s Follow the Leader, Kid Rock’s Devil Without a Cause, and Orgy’s Candyass. We may look back on nu-metal as a cultural punchline, the soundtrack to our not-so-fond memories of frat parties and Napster - but it started as a genuine musical movement. The 98 Greatest Songs of 1998: Critics' Picks