She’dalwaysassumedElianwascalleda“genius”mostlybecauseofhisfwlessfadthehaloofbeingarichTianmukid—hypeinftedbyfangirls.
Butseeinghimupcloselikethis,sheuood:
hisguitarskillreallywasterrifying.
Ameri-styleheavyriffscarriedathick,aggressiveweight.Everybend,everymuteElianpyedcamewithakindantviolence,likehemeanttotearsomethingopen.
Andevenso,Cra’sbrowsstilldrewtogether.
Becausethewallofsoundwas…inplete.
Therewasnobass.
Slipknot’smusicsuffocatedyounotonlywithguitarsanddouble-kick.Itscoresoulwasthebass—thoseultra-lowfrequencieslurkingunderground,everywhereatohoutthatsupport,nomatterhowfshyElian’sguitarwas,nomatterhowsavagethedrummer’srhythmbecame,thewholethingsoundedlikeaskyscraperwithnofoundation:t,impressive—
andalwaysoremorawayfromcolpse.
Crash—!
Withthedrummer’sfinalcymbalhit,thesongendedonabrutallyexplosiverest.
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