When Slipknot took the stage, it blurred the lines between "concert" and "freak show," as the nine bandmates did a brilliant job of living up to their highly volatile and senselessly angry reputation. With a pocketful of third-rate metal licks and enough F-words to make Andrew Dice Clay look like Mary Poppins, the Slipknot set was the musical equivalent of a low-budget slasher film.
And if a Slipknot show is a circus, it must be said that No. 8 (leather-facemasked Corey Taylor) is the ringleader. And when No. 8 speaks, his loyal "maggots" listen. Spouting such profundities as "The world is a fucked-up place, and this next song is about how the world is fucked up," No. 8 orchestrated the mosh pit with the same stunning brainwashing tactics that have earned his band of goons a "fucking gold fucking record." But just owning the record isn't enough for many Cleveland maggots, and the highlight of the set came near the end, when No. 6 (the tubby clown) beat his head against his beer keg turned percussion instrument after setting himself on fire. Next time they come through town, maybe they'll bring the bearded lady.