Limp Bizkit

The sound is a collision of heavily downtuned guitars, hip-hop beats, turntable scratches and Fred Durst’s aggressive, rapping vocals — a mix that at its best is impossible to ignore. But the secret ingredient has always been Wes Borland, a guitarist whose sonic experimentation and visual presence — face paint, masks, costumes — gave the band an artistic nerve that balanced Durst’s raw energy. Limp Bizkit split audiences into two camps from day one: for some they were the dumbest band in the world, for others the most honest. The truth is that no one else sounded like them, and their music — raw, aggressive, shamelessly catchy — has survived every attempt to write it off. Live, Limp Bizkit are chaos with a grin. Durst is a frontman who lives to provoke and entertain in the same breath, and the band have always treated the concert stage as a playground where the rules do not apply. After three decades, they have gone from being the turn of the millennium’s most beloved object of hatred to being embraced by a new generation that has discovered there was never anything wrong with just having a bloody good time.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​