In 1999, Metal Hammer editor Robyn Doreian boarded a plane to the US to interview rising stars Slipknot. The result? Chaos. And this – the band’s first-ever Hammer cover feature, led by legendary drummer Joey Jordison.
She was so sure of the band, she even put together a special pullout section that included Q&As to introduce them, in which Clown remarked of their image: “If we didn’t wear masks, there would be so much more trouble, as there is so much pain on our faces that people don’t get to see.”
Today, she remembers what it was like to meet the then-anonymous Nine, before they exploded.
"In 1999, Roadrunner Records anticipated Slipknot as Satan’s Third Coming,” recalls Robyn. “That September, I flew to Memphis, Tennessee, to interview the Iowans. Their Dada attire, sonic nihilism and ‘people=shit’ mantra detonated my punk rock circuitry. My belief – irrespective of a yet-to-be-realised chart position – was that they were cover worthy.
“On a Monday afternoon, myself and photographer Mick Hutson stood outside the New Daisy Theatre, the 1930s-built venue where Elvis had once played. In 40˚C heat, we observed a march of boilersuited adolescents, their faces obscured by gas masks, towards the neon-lit portico.
“Several hours before the gig, Mick and I headed to the theatre car park – the famed Beale Street’s strip of bars and hangouts in peripheral view. Nine individual interviews were scheduled, followed by photographic portraits.
“Dressed in long shorts, a black t-shirt and low Converse, Joey Jordison (1) paced the bitumen. Introduced by the tour manager, the drummer admired my Neurosis shirt. Once aboard the tour bus, I sat opposite the 24-year-old, my cassette recorder angled between us.
“Joey had the energy of a bull ant and the determination of a political candidate. He was bursting to explain Slipknot’s vision. It was like he’d been dug up and was gasping for air. His sincerity struck me, particularly as he explained: ‘We were walking around like ghosts, slitting our wrists open, saying, 'Please take a look at this! Look at what we’re trying to do!' I gauged the masks and numbers were no gimmicks. That Slipknot was his life.
“In contrast to Jordison’s warmth, Sid Wilson (0) tested my grit. Attempting to unsettle me, during our 25 minutes together, the DJ fondled a plastic sausage-shaped item filled with gel, and massaged it like it was his dick.
“Guitarist Mick Thomson’s (7) raven hair and beard mirrored his aura. His Jungian shadow on display, the 6’4” guitarist disarmed, as he spoke of legalising murder if he were president for a day; the human race so despicable the 25-year-old wouldn’t even know where to start.
“Shawn Crahan (aka Clown) (6) comprised the final interview. Like Jordison, he proffered integrity. Out of all nine members, Clown had the bullshit metre locked on 11. He viewed me with suspicion, to gauge if I was an idiot. Sensing Joey’s approval, he too purged himself. Of his mask, he recalled that from a post-Halloween clearance table it ‘found him’. And that he spoke to it every night. Assured by my curiosity, he insisted I know Slipknot’s origins from 1995.
“That night, Slipknot provided live psychosis. On a tiny stage, latex sweated, guitar necks stabbed and helmet spikes afflicted. All the while, frontman Corey Taylor bled lyrical trauma. The crowd slammed erratically, so I sheltered beside the stage. “November’s Metal Hammer provoked bulging mailbags. The next time I saw Slipknot was at London’s Astoria, on December 13, on their first UK tour. The 2,000-capacity theatre was sold out. My editorial gut had been right.”
It’s seven o’clock and the 1,000-seater New Daisy Theatre is near to bursting at the seams. The queue at the merchandise stall alternates between fans wearing gas masks and Jason Voorhees-style face apparel. Memphis, Tennessee has never seen anything like it, and neither have I.
You see, Slipknot are not your usual rock band. They are made up of nine intense, focused individuals who have the worst attitude in the world. They hate everyone and everything and will stop at nothing to deliver a humongous ‘fuck you’ to all the non-believers. Put simply, they have a fire in their bellies that refuses to go out. All this comes from being raised in Des Moines, Iowa, a town in middle America where no one would give them the time of day, let alone take their music seriously.
When the band came together in 1995, their collective hate was off the Richter scale. Slipknot became the perfect vehicle for years of pent-up rage and, rather than go on a killing spree, they chose to use the stage as their weapon. Diminutive drummer Joey Jordison (1), Slipknot’s sole conventional percussionist, is seated on the band’s bus, out of view of the throngs of fans who have encircled it. Alongside founding members Shawn (6) and Paul (2), he was an early recruit of the Slipknot cause.
“When I first came into the band, I was like, ‘I have to either be in this band or I have to destroy it because it’s so good,’” recalls the pint-sized thumper. “We formed Slipknot and wanted to search the inner soul to the hilt and say what we wanted and not worry about what anyone thought, refusing to compromise. All of us had a lot to say, and that involved three drummers, two guitarists, a sampler, a DJ, bass guitarist and singer to get it all out.
We didn’t want to be about names and faces, we wanted to be about the music, so used the tool of hiding our faces and having number assignments and barcodes on the back. Everyone lives out their own personality by the masks they put on. They go inside themselves, picking the face they wear because that is who they are. We wanted to play the heaviest fucking intense fucking music known to man. That is what we are throwing out at the audience and that is the best tool we have.”
The allocation of number assignments also came easily to each member, like they were somehow already chosen for them. “I have a lot of things in my life that I would not like to discuss based on that number,” says Joey.
“Everyone has something in their life that they never really come to terms with. Each member of this band has a number within their life. Corey has mad things attached to his (8) that he has been through in his life, and everyone had it instilled in their head so there was no argument about choosing them. There are so many things I can tell you about my number but I just wouldn’t be able to say it right.”
The pure hate and nihilistic lyrics are a result of living in Iowa – the sterile environment which failed to nurture or inspire any creativity.
“You stick nine guys together who have no outlet for their whole lives, and you live in Iowa and you come out on a fucking stage, then you have some shit to portray,” states Joey. “We were walking around like ghosts, slitting our wrists open, saying, ‘Please take a look at this! Look at what we’re trying to do!’ When we put it together and came to doing a live show, all the elements of being downgraded, not appreciated, being given nothing because we live in such a shithole, all that came out.
“There’s no way you can go through life thinking it’s great because it is not. Look at all the fucked-up shit that goes on. The world is a sick fucking place. The fact is that you can come to our show and get all your aggressions out and go away feeling relieved. I want everyone to get a rush of emotion from it.”
It appears as though the fans aren’t the only ones getting emotional. At a record signing session in Chicago, the band’s innovative stage costumes were met with a less than amused response from the local constabulary. Unbeknown to the band, they were parked next to a jewellery store and once they were masked, 10 cars full of armed police arrived, ready to shoot, assuming Slipknot were about to do a job.
There was also an appearance on Howard Stern’s New York radio show that left the shock jock bewildered by the band’s antics. Sid (0) took it upon himself to stand in the corner of the studio wanking while another member crapped in a bucket as a memento of their visit. It seems the band revel in the exhibitionist opportunities Slipknot affords them.
“I guess it just comes into the over-compulsive personalities everyone has,” explains Joey. “When someone tries to test us, we will go above and beyond to make sure you walk away with some sort of distaste in your mouth. As sick as it may sound, it goes back to where we come from, why people=shit, why we sing the lyrics we do, why we are so fucking pissed off all the time.
“This is our gift and we respect it a lot, so much so that the only way to get our point across is to give our blood, literally, and we do it all the time. We have to call our manager every day and say, ‘Have the credit card ready, because something could happen at any time’ – we might all end up in hospital or all get arrested and it will always be like that.”
Joey reveals that he also contributes a great deal creatively to the band.
“I think there are a lot of guys in the band who have an artistic side, me being one of them,” he says. “I came up with the people=shit logo as it was something that we were all feeling. Everyone has to not only be a good musician to be in the band, they also have to have a good artistic side to them, to be able to portray what we want them to portray in the band.
“I am always drawing pictures, cartoons, little dumb stuff. When you open the CD, under the tray there’s a guy wrapped in cellophane. I came up with that concept with Shawn when we were at Indigo Ranch [recording studio]. Every day I wake up wondering what I can do for the band that day, and that involves everything from art to music.”
Kicking against the pricks is paying huge dividends for the avantgarde metallers. With very little help from the press, the cult of Slipknot has spread like wildfire across the States where Slipknot has become the fastest selling debut album in Roadrunner’s history. Try 100,000 copies in 10 weeks for size, and that’s just for starters.
“We’re just nine fucking geeks who speak to those kids in a language they understand because we speak to them on a street level,” says Joey. “The only reason we are here is for our fans. We don’t care about music critics, about what people say about our music, because most of the people who write this shit either haven’t seen the band or listened to the record.
“Of course there is the danger that some people will dismiss us, saying we’re just an image, but listen to our record and tell us that we’re faking shit, like the emotion that Corey is pouring out, that that is some contrived, assembled shit…
“We’re a punching bag. We’re here for us to get all of our shit out of our system. That’s why when we play a show we don’t want anyone getting hurt. It is dangerous music and it is very, very nihilistic and it will always be that way.”
While we’re on the topic of image, do you attract any strange groupies?
“No, we don’t,” laughs Joey. “You’d think we would and sometimes I hope we would! It sucks! We chose not to be about our names or faces because we didn’t want to be some rock-star cliché. If one of the downfalls is not getting laid after the show, well, so be it, because no one knows who we are and that is the best thing about it.
“After the show, the fact that I can walk through a bunch of people and they’re all talking about the show… I can walk by and they don’t even know it’s me or that I’m in the band. If that’s one of the downfalls then it’s the best downfall I have ever heard of ’cos I get to hear the kids talk and they don’t even know who the fuck I am, and the fact that they are saying such good words about us is such a good feeling.”
And with that, Joey disappears to assume his alter ego of Number 1. What follows is nine men in boilersuits performing what I can only describe as one of the most gripping live shows I have seen for years.
An uneasy cocktail of rage, chaos and spontaneity, it resembles an end-of-term concert at the Bauhaus. Between the gruesome persona of guitarist Mick Thomson (7) who arrives fresh from a stack of fava beans and chilled Chianti, the unsettling sway of the Clown (6) aboard his titanium drumkit, and DJ Sid (0) running across the stage like a deranged ape, it quickly becomes surreal, yet unbearably compelling. After 45 minutes of psychotic energy, I get it. I really do. And once you see themlive, you will too. Slipknot are the band we’ve been waiting for.
