Head
Save Me From Myself

Let's take a few steps back... the Korn: or rather, Head!

No offense to anyone, we have loved Fieldy's scraped bass, just as we loved Silveria's violent drumming, Jonathan Davis's charisma, and Munky's wall of sound; but it's no coincidence that since Head's departure, Korn has struggled to come up with a decent idea in their latest albums. Furthermore, with Silveria's departure, the band now employs a slew of undoubtedly talented musicians for live performances, but they transform historic tracks that we were all happy to recognize from the first notes. What happened? What is Korn missing now like bread? Simply Head. Period. The sonic mind, the one who could turn Jonathan Davis's nightmares and an entire generation's into music. The "left" guitar and, forgive the pun, the "sinister" guitar, the one that under granite riffs would arpeggiate alienating and disturbing notes, creating strange sounds and claustrophobic dissonances. A widespread sensation of illness that permeated the listener and was, in all respects, the most recognizable trademark of a band whose discography spanned from the brutality of their beginnings to the rarefied realms of an album like "Untouchables."

An uneasiness, one might say, inherent to Brian Welch: a big American guy literally kissed by luck but fully unhappy. As Head himself narrates in the autobiography "Save Me From Myself," a little before the eponymous album released in September 2008 and the subject of this review, the heaps of money, global success, hoards of adoring women, and delirious fans drove him deeper into drug addiction, particularly meth, compromising his human relationships. At a certain point, something breaks, and Head experiences a short circuit. Abandoned by his wife, with the responsibility of a daughter growing up humming the obscene verses of "A.D.I.D.A.S.," Brian hits rock bottom and decides to shed his rockstar persona to rediscover himself as a man and a father. So, in February 2005, he leaves Korn to entrust his life to the Lord and, with the help of faith, embarks on the path of rehabilitation.

Now, it's well known that Americans tend to dramatize their faith, and Head's subsequent choices are no exception: the baptism in the Jordan River, the tattoo of Christ on his right hand, and Gospel verses here and there on his body. Seas of interviews on major networks and publications, but also the founding of an orphanage in his name in India. In short, a path anything but intimate. But it's not up to us to judge the value of these courageous choices for an artist who would have thrived just on Korn's name. We can judge, however, the artistic side of his proposal, and the results exceed all expectations. It's worth saying right away, those of us expecting religious and refined music from this heavily tattooed priest were and will be proven wrong. "Save Me From Myself" is a punch right in the face, at times a work of anger and ferocity, with clearly defined coordinates. The first notes of "L.O.V.E." play, and your heart skips a beat. You recognize it in an instant, you think: "Shit, this is Head's guitar!!" (Okay, Korn's guitar...) A music box arpeggio paves the way for the main riff, a true blow from the man who forged nu-metal more than anyone else. Tears for that sense of claustrophobia that immediately overwhelms you, a feeling you thought you'd never hear again. Before you can catch your breath, you're hypnotized by "Flush." (A curiosity: is it just me or does the chorus remind you, in its setup, of "Keravnos Kivernitos" by the Greek Rotting Christ? Does good Head still listen to incredibly vicious black-metal?). Anyway, each piece excellently balances the heaviness of the riffs with the disturbance of dark arpeggios as a counterpart. It's not my intention to review the album track by track; I'd be taking away the pleasure of discovering a thousand pleasant surprises on your own... Keep in mind that a massive amount of electronics, intelligently and surgically used, gives the album a sense of coldness and angst only rarely tempered by melodic openings ("Loyalty", the title track) rather than children's choirs ("Re-Bel") or heavy keyboard backdrops ("Money").

From a lyrical standpoint, "Save Me From Myself" is the briefest transposition of the eponymous autobiography, and musically we navigate around Korn's "Issues" and "Untouchables" (the latter hurriedly dismissed by many), namely a nu-metal with strong dark, at times gothic veins, yet still damnably dark. But perhaps the biggest surprise is that we find Head himself on vocals with commendable results, even if sometimes uncertain in some passages. But it's a debut: forgivable. Head convinces both in the clean parts and in the more intense ones, almost at the limit of growling (see "Die Religion Die") and raises curiosity as to whether he will perform equally well live. Furthermore, Head himself handles all the synthesizers and the album's production, which is really clean and powerful. Another surprise, on bass and drums we find none other than Tony Levin and Josh Freeze, no small potatoes!

In conclusion, the tracks are really good, even despite an excessive length at times, which makes the initial listens anything but easy. After a while, the album will conquer you relentlessly. Head is now a man and a mature artist aware of his potential, but he is also, despite his newfound faith, still very angry. Good for us.

WELCOME BACK HEAD.