Slipknot - Iowa (2001)

A minute of static, low-frequency rumble and a distorted voice screaming "death" on a loop. Sid Wilson recorded this after learning his grandfather died, and it sets the tone: this is not an album interested in easing you in. Effective as an intro, pointless as a standalone track.

The thesis statement. The main riff is a two-note chug that accelerates into a tremolo figure, and the verse riff is a polyrhythmic breakdown that the percussion section turns into controlled chaos. Taylor alternates between a mid-range shout and a high scream, and the transition between them is seamless. The chorus—"People equal shit" repeated over a blast beat—is reductive on paper but devastating in practice because the performance sells it. Jordison's drumming is precise at a tempo that would turn most nu metal drummers into mush, and the mix captures every snare hit without sacrificing the low end. This is the sound of a band that figured out how to be technical and violent at the same time. One of the three or four best songs Slipknot ever wrote.

Taylor has called this his favorite Slipknot song, and the writing backs him up. The intro riff is a death metal tremolo line that drops into a groove without losing momentum, and the verses are built on a stop-start palm-muted figure that gives the vocals room to work. The bridge is a blast beat section that does not feel like a stunt—it is part of the song's structure, not a climax bolted on. The production is enormous: nine people playing at once, every element audible, no mud. The vocal performance cycles through at least four distinct techniques, from a low growl to a high shriek, and the transitions are what make the song terrifying instead of just loud. Lyrically it is misanthropy without metaphor, and Taylor delivers it like he means every word. The best song on the album and the best argument for Iowa as Slipknot's peak.

The second single, and the most melodic song in the first half. The verses are sung clean, not screamed, and the guitars play a minor-key riff that is closer to alternative metal than death metal. The chorus is a scream, but it is a controlled scream, shaped for dynamics rather than pure aggression. The song works because it is not trying to be Disasterpiece; it is offering a different tool and using it well. The mix emphasizes the bass and the low end of the guitars, and the result is heavy without being relentless. This was nominated for a Grammy, and while that says more about the Grammys than the song, it is a deserved nomination: this is Slipknot writing for contrast and getting it right. The "New Abuse Mix" on the tenth anniversary edition is shorter and faster and worse.

The first sign that the album is going to sag. The main riff is solid—a descending figure that the percussion section complicates with offbeat hits—but the song does not develop it; it repeats the verse-chorus structure three times and ends. Taylor sings the verses clean and screams the chorus, the same trick as My Plague, and it works less well here because the melody is less memorable and the contrast feels predictable. Not filler, but not essential either. A solid mid-tier track that would have been stronger if the album had been sequenced differently.

The third single and the last of the opening classics. The main riff is a thrash figure played at death metal speed, and the verse riff is a breakdown that the percussion section locks into with precision. The chorus—"If you're 555, then I'm 666"—is absurd if you think about it for more than five seconds, but Taylor delivers it with enough conviction that it works anyway. The song is built for the pit: every riff is a cue to move, and the production keeps the groove audible even when Jordison is blasting. The bridge is a half-time breakdown that is somehow heavier than the full-speed sections, and the song ends on a sustained scream that Taylor holds for an unreasonable amount of time. This is Slipknot at their most unsubtle, and it works because the band commits to it completely.

A slower, sludgier track that relies on atmosphere instead of speed. The guitars are downtuned and the riff is a two-chord dirge, and the verses are sung instead of screamed. The song is trying to be menacing instead of violent, and it mostly succeeds: the production emphasizes space and the low end, and Taylor's vocal is controlled and deliberate. The problem is that the song is nearly five minutes long and the riff does not develop; it repeats, and by the third verse the repetition starts to feel like a substitute for ideas. The outro is a sustained scream over feedback, and it is effective, but it does not redeem the middle section. A good experiment that should have been a minute shorter.

The first single and the most accessible song on the album. The verses are sung, the chorus is anthemic, and the main riff is a palm-muted groove that is heavy without being punishing. This was nominated for a Grammy, and it deserved it: the song is structured for radio without compromising the band's sound, and the production keeps it heavy enough that it does not feel like a concession. The bridge is a breakdown that hits harder because the rest of the song is relatively restrained, and Taylor's scream on the final chorus is the emotional peak of the track. This is Slipknot writing for dynamics and getting it exactly right. The best single on the album and one of the few songs in the back half that justifies its placement.

An instrumental experiment with some vocal samples. The main riff is a clean-toned figure that the percussion section turns into something unsettling, and the track builds slowly without ever erupting. It is trying to be ominous, and it works for about two minutes, but at three and a half minutes it outstays its welcome. The production is excellent—every layer is audible and the space between the instruments is used well—but the song does not have enough ideas to justify its length. This would work better as a two-minute interlude than as a full track.

The shortest full song on the album, and it feels longer than several of the six-minute tracks. The main riff is a one-note chug, and the song does not develop it; it repeats the same structure twice and ends. Taylor shouts the verses and screams the chorus, but the performance does not have the intensity or the variety that makes the earlier tracks work. This is filler, plain and simple. It is not offensively bad, but it does not need to be on the album.

Nearly seven minutes of a two-riff song. The verses are a clean-toned guitar figure over a slow, deliberate drum pattern, and the choruses are a downtuned chug. The song is trying to be hypnotic, and the first three minutes work: the repetition builds tension, and Taylor's vocal is restrained and menacing. The problem is that the song does not release that tension; it just repeats the same two sections for another three minutes and ends. The outro is a sustained scream over feedback, which is effective, but it does not justify the runtime. This needed to be four minutes or it needed a third riff.

A solid mid-tempo track that does not distinguish itself. The main riff is a palm-muted groove, the verses are shouted, and the chorus is a scream over a blast beat. All of this works, but none of it is memorable in the context of an album that already has People = Shit and Disasterpiece. The production is good, the performance is committed, but the songwriting is repetitive. This is filler disguised as a full song.

The last track before the title track, and it is better than the three songs that precede it. The main riff is a descending figure that accelerates into a tremolo section, and the verses are built on a syncopated groove that the percussion section complicates. Taylor's vocal alternates between a mid-range shout and a scream, and the transitions are what give the song its momentum. The problem is that the song is four minutes of good ideas that do not add up to a great song; it feels like a collection of riffs rather than a structure. Still, this is the best track in the back half before the title track.

Fifteen minutes of slow, sludgy riffs and Taylor's voice disintegrating. The first eight minutes are harrowing: the riff is a two-chord dirge, the drums are a slow, deliberate pound, and Taylor's vocal starts as a low moan and escalates into a scream that sounds like it is destroying his throat. He reportedly vomited and cut himself while recording this, and the performance is convincing: this is not a theatrical scream, it is a real breakdown. The problem is that the song does not develop after the eight-minute mark; it repeats the same riff for another seven minutes, and the repetition stops being effective and starts being tedious. The concept is ambitious, the first half is executed well, but the second half is self-indulgent. This would be a classic if it were eight minutes long. At fifteen, it is an endurance test that half the listeners will skip.