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Now I'm a notoriously broad-minded guy. Over-generous, some might say (I cringe as I recall a relatively positive album review I once gave Bryan Adams). What's more, I can see the value in most music, even if it's not my particular cup of tea. Because whatever I might have to say in a critical capacity, those guys and gals are up there, putting their tripes on the line to entertain bozos like me. They deserve a crumb of credit.

But I draw the line at Limp Bizkit.

Lumpen, melody-free, offensive, aggressive in a bad way, this was music so value-free that it ceased to qualify as music at all. Somehow Limp Bizkit combined the worst aspects of hip-hop and heavy metal in one testosterone-sodden plod. It was as if someone had taken the smell of a WrestleMania locker room and somehow molded it into some records. If there was one mitigating factor it was the Buckethead weirdness of guitarist Wes Borland. But he hated being in Limp Bizkit nearly as much as I hated listening to them--perhaps more. Their ultimate badness was summarized in the title of their third record, Chocolate Starfish & The Hot-Dog Flavored Water, officially The Worst Album Title Of All Time.

Frontman Fred Durst's bellicose worldview--No-one likes me, and by the way, F*** you!--was reflected in songs like "Break Stuff" and "Nookie," and while it would be unjust to make his band entirely responsible for the bad vibes that swirled constantly around them, the violence that marred their Woodstock '99 performance is a matter of record, as is the Australian coroner's critical comments in the wake of the tragic moshpit death of teenage rock fan Jessica Michalik at 2001's Big Day Out. Now I'm not suggesting every band play as nice as this, but is there really a place in 2009 for Limp Bizkit's knuckle-dragging nonsense?

Because it's not just the music, bad though that undoubtedly was. Remember Durst's constant fight-picking with other bands, his tactics as a label boss, and his ungentlemanly revelations regarding his intimacy with Britney Spears? They all suggested a man with problems he'd do well to discuss with a professional, but that's no reason to burden us--the long-suffering public--all over again.

Indeed. Enduring nu-metal--and its hairy, carb-loaded fratpals sports-metal and rap-metal--was bad enough at the time, as transatlantic culture surfed a wave of late-'90s prosperity. But for Limp Bizkit to return right now, just as the Credit Crunch really takes the gloves off, is almost absurdly sadistic--like that scene in the Woody Allen movie Take The Money & Run, where Woody is sentenced to a 10-stretch in chokey, then the judge takes his glasses off and stamps on them. 

Here again, for those of you who were looking the other way in horror, is how founder members Fred Durst and his new best friend Wes Borland justified their return to the scene of the crime.

"We decided we were more disgusted and bored with the state of heavy popular music than we were with each other. Regardless of where our separate paths have taken us, we recognize there is a powerful and unique energy with this particular group of people we have not found anywhere else. This is why Limp Bizkit is back."

First, "heavy popular music"? WTFIT? Secondly, shouldn't that be "powerful and unique money"? And thirdly, aren't they admitting that they are, at least to some degree, "disgusted and bored with each other"? Is that a sturdy, non-cynical platform upon which to relaunch themselves, or rather a typical fungoo sign to their fans by the most charmless band of all time?

Limp Bizkit used to come out of a giant toilet bowl on stage. Couldn't they just crawl right back in there, and flush?