How Korn transforms one mans demented fury into soothing industrial metal.

By Chris Gill

Wham! A semi-truck slams into a brick wall while backing into the loading area of the New Orleans club Tipitina's, unleashing a thundering cacophony of metal striking concrete. Korn vocalist Jonathan Davis whips his head around, simultaneously startled and amused by the accident. He was just describing the impact of Korn's music, but it looks like a greater force has intervened and answered the question for him.

Over the last year, Korn has pummelled audiences with its brutal combination of dissonant tuned-down 7-string guitars, gut-rumbling bass, concussion-inducing drums and cathartic, primal-scream vocals. According to guitarist J. Munky Shaffer, the music is the result of growing up in the stifling environment of Bakersfield, California, the agricultural burg two hours north of Los Angeles that's better know as the home of classic country singers Buck Owens and Merle Haggard.

"We felt really limited," says Shaffer. "We had this musical talent inside us that was hard to express in Bakersfield. It became this bottled up anger. We decided that make music that captures that anger. Even after we moved away, we remembered how shitty it was to grow up there, and we draw on that for motivation."

Although countless rock bands have capitalized on a similar "we gotta get out of this place" mentality, for Korn it has become a form of psychotherapy. Every night Davis takes the stage and metamorphoses from his usual soft-spoken, easy-going self into a raging, crazed neurotic. The victim of what he describes as "a seriously fucked up childhood," he exorcises his personal demons via astonishingly naked and honest performances.

"Jonathan will sit there before we go on stage and take himself to this place he hates," says Shafffer. "It's really scary to watch. We feed off his energy and give it back to him. It's like we're directing our own scary movie. A director ofter transfers things that people are afraid to say or do onto film. With our music we expose things that people usually hide, that they're afraid of. We're like Freddy Krueger or that pinhead guy in Hellraiser."

"I've spent a lot of my lifetime submerging my feelings," Davis explains. "All of this music is about my life. It's my way of getting those feelings out. I'm glad that kids can relate to it. I had no clue that anyone would know what the hell I was talking about! Kids come up to me and say, 'Thank you for the album. It's really helped me out.' Letting out my aggressions was something I used to do for myself. Now I'm doing it for those kids."

But Korn's frankness about issues like child and drug abuse has seemed suspect to some sectors of the rock-crit community in light of the cover art on the band's debut album, Korn, which almost seems to celebrate the abduction of a young girl. A writer for the New York-based Village Voice even surmised that Korn was short for "kiddie porn."

"Tell them to get a grip," laughs Davis. "I don't expect everyone to understand. Critics just like to bash somebody. I hope they do it more. Fuck them. The kids get it. If anybody has the energy to try and understand what we're donig, more power to them."

What is especially surprising about Korn's aggressive delivery is the disparity in the band members' musical tastes. Guitarists Shaffer and Brian "Head" Welch were influenced by the usual Seventies and Eighties heavy metal gods, and both share an affinity for Mr. Bungle and noise composer, Painkiller member and Mr. Bungle producer John Zorn. "We like that wacky, free-spirited music, " Shaffer avows. "Our drummer is into disco, like the Bee Gees and Blondie. [Bassist] Fieldy is a big hip-hop fan. Jonathan is kind of weird, He used to be into classical music and I don't know what else."

"I was into Duran Duran, Missing Persons, A Flock Of Seagulls, taht kind of vibe," admits Davis. "So when I joined this band, I had no clue what to do. I hadn't ever listened to heavy music. I just opened my mouth and hoped for the best."

Somehow, the five members of Korn managed to reconcile their far-flung tastes, and in so doing forged the schizoid maelstrom that is Korn. Welch explains that the band makes all of its decisions by committee: "Nothing gets past any band member without his approval. None of us are afraid to tell the other guy 'That sucks.' We get over it. It might hurt for a while, but at least we know no one's going to be hating it when we play the same song every night."

The band's wide-ranging musical tastes may explain why Korn has toured with everything from metal and industrial bands to rap groups. Although it has encountered its share of hostile audiences (especially when opening for Megadeth), it has mostly won over the crowds and increased its fan base significantly in the process. The one thing Korn is most definitely not down with, however, is punk. Even though the band members are now based in Huntington Beach, hometown to several Orange County punk bands, they despise the genre.

"I never got into punk, " exclaims Shaffer. "We could write a punk album in three days, although it might not be a good one. Most punk chord progressions use major chords. We like to criss-cross things, like using a major-scale vocal line over a natural-minor chord progression. We challenge ourselves. I play a lot of barre chords, but I like to expand on them. Also, in punk bands, the bass always follows the guitar for the whole song. In Korn it locks with the backbone of the drums."

After spending all of 1995 on the road, Korn is hitting the trail again, this time as the opening act on the Ozzy Osbourne's "Retirement Sucks" tour. Soon afterwards it will start working on the follow-up to Korn. Even though they haven't written any new material yet, the band members aren't worried about finding inspiration - so long as Davis stays out of therapy. "I hope the Jonathan doesn't get help," laughs Welch. "We're screwed if he gets cured."

"I've got many more experiences from my childhood to draw upon," Davis assures. "I just don't know if I'm ready to let those feelings out yet."

Guitar World, March 1996