Typically when a band starts revisiting their debut album it means they’re finished. Out of ideas, conceding their best days are behind them, resigned to pleasing the same audience of diehards and nostalgists for yet another victory lap. Indeed, a poster that loomed over me at the Intuit Dome last Friday advertising Weezer’s coming Voyage to the Blue Planet tour, in which they will be playing their debut album in full (again) reminded me that for most bands touring the golden oldies meant one thing; it’s over.
Yet this, Slipknot’s Here Comes the Pain 25th Anniversary Tour, was not that. In fact it didn’t hit me how weird this venture was going to be until Corey Taylor reminded the audience that nothing we’d hear tonight was written after 1999. I knew that was the deal going in but the surreality of watching a legacy band forsake the vast majority of their big hits at an arena show can’t be overstated. It didn’t come as a reassurance, it came as a relief, freeing Slipknot from the shackles of mid-tempo set staples like “Psychosocial” and “Unsainted.” Similarly unlike the aforementioned Weezer or the upcoming Oasis reunion, Slipknot’s debut album deep cuts have not been regular features of Slipknot tours. Most of the show was rarity after rarity, delivered with such relentless fury and force that even “Spit It Out” didn’t feature its obligatory ‘Everyone get the fuck down on the ground’ break. Consider that, of said debut album, only “Wait and Bleed” and “Spit it Out” could be considered current hits. Watching Slipknot eviscerate songs like “Get This,” “No Life” and “Liberate” was like watching Tiger Woods make his 2018 comeback, a starting reminder that after all this time the old masters still got it.
But setlists alone can’t fully explain where Slipknot’s renewed energy is erupting from. For that, I’ve gotta give it up to drummer and newest recruit Eloy Casagrande. Watching Eloy drum is an experience more akin to a monster truck rally than a concert, the physical power on display is awe inspiring. He does not play the drums as much as he disciplines them. In this, he is a worthy successor to the late Joey Jordison as someone who understands Slipknot is a percussion-first group, and indeed he dragged those songs out of their old age and into something urgent while all the rest of the band could do was chase after him. At one point bassist Alessandro Venturella literally turned and bowed before Eloy’s might as he barreled through the drum break on “Liberate.” Even knowing the show would close with “Scissors” didn’t make it any less bracing. This is an sand show closing with a John Zorn, Naked City-style formless jam, climaxing with Casagrande throttling the song’s tempo to a double bass jackhammer and a wall of feedback as the band left the stage. Not “Before I Forget,” not “Duality.” Lights on. Show’s over.
Can this sudden resurgence of power result in vital new music? It remains to be seen. But if their current live show is any indication Slipknot the brand is on pause; Slipknot, the band, have returned.
