Music

10 Canadian nü metal memories

by Mark Teo

In recent years, Canadian metal has earned a banner reputation: The West Coast has been churning out oodles of bearded, wizard-worshipping dude-metal acts. Quebec, thanks to the efforts of the untouchable Cryptopsy, has earned plenty of praise for its technical death metal. Ken MODE—the noisy brainchild of a bunch of Winnipeg-based accountants—play a brand of noisy hardcore that’s best described as indescribable. Yet the era that preceded Canada’s current metal moment was more forgettable—it was defined by septum piercings, JNCOs, whiteboy dreadlocks, and an omnipresent five-string slap bass. Before juggalos (and definitely before Nickelback was ever associated with anything hard or heavy), there was nü-metal. Hold onto your snake-eye contact lenses: we’ve dug through oodles of pimp rock webrings—and the most useless Wiki page ever—to bring you our favourite Canadian nü metal acts.

PROJECT WYZE

Back when Limp Bizkit was earning critical props—no seriously, it actually happened—Canada was developing a rap-metal act of their very own: Sudbury, Ont.’s Project Wyze, who, by their own admission, were “born in a mosh pit.” Their only album, Misfits.strangers.liars.friends, produced one hit single in “Room to Breathe,” which had them stomping around in a puddle for its music video—a classic technique of nü metal film. Jump, jump, jump, freeze. Then do the sensible thing: Turn Project Wyze off.

RAGGADEATH

Give these genre alchemists—whose name perfectly described their blend of reggae and, uh, metal—some credit: They began in mid-’90s, making nü metal when it was at its, uh, newest. Indeed, Why Ask Why and their most successful LP, 1997’s Raggadeath, established this Toronto outfit far before 311 and Skindred dabbled in similar territories. That, and inexplicably, they managed to get Canadian rap legend Michie Mee to guest sing on their tracks. We’re as confused as you are. 

KITTIE

Unlike their be-dreadlocked peers, Kittie eventually outgrew the nü metal tag and built a career in earnest, even having recently completed a tour with Devildriver. (Even their ex-members remained in the public eye: Former bassist Jennifer Arroyo participated in last year’s Big Brother 14.) But the song that propelled the London, Ont. act to prominence was “Brackish,” a wonderfully dated song that’s best remembered for its stream-of-consciousness verses and gibberish chorus. YouTube user ladyodessasilvererg, though, remembers it differently: She recalls “always imagined the heavy bass like vibrating huge boobies.” Um… right.

ECONOLINE CRUSH

Vancouver’s Econoline Crush weren’t nü metal in the strictest sense, but much like Project Wyze or Kittie, they were a heavier act that dabbled with commercial success. Late game ballads like “All That You Are” and “You Don’t Know What It’s Like” eventually converted Our Lady Peace fans to their brand of dark alt-rock, but in their early days, the band had legit nü metal bona fides. Case in point: “Nowhere Now,” the lead single from the Affliction EP, blended singer Trevor Hurst’s icy cool delivery, processed blips and bloops, and palm-muted open chords. That, and its video prominently featured a virtual reality motorcycle. That’s right: virtual. Reality. Remember that? Neither do we.

FINGER ELEVEN

Most alt-metal acts (see: the Deftones) attempted to outgrow, or at least obscure, their nü-metal origins. Not so for Finger Eleven. And that’s largely because they didn’t have metal origins: This Burlington, Ont. act started their career in grungier territories as Rainbow Butt Monkeys, before shifting to a nü direction with 1997’s Tip. Unlike Kittie, purists try to exclude Finger Eleven from the pages of Can-metal’s history books, but they arguable deserve their place: Like Stuck Mojo, they contributed songs to WWE soundtracks. They recorded a song with Evanescence’s Amy Lee. And, inexplicably, they have an outlaw country project, making them one of Canada’s most enduring alt-metal outfits. 

NÜ WARNING

Let’s get one thing straight: No Warning’s Ill Blood, which Bridge 9 Records just reissued on its 10^th anniversary, is one of the best Canadian hardcore records. Ever. And the band’s singer, Ben Cook, is one of Canadian music’s de facto treasures, whether he’s playing guitar for Fucked Up, helming retro-pop oddity Yacht Club, or recording up-and-coming Toronto acts like Actual Water. But in 2004, things were different: The post-Ill Blood No Warning had inked a deal with Linkin Park’s Machine Shop imprint and was touring with Korn and Snoop Dogg. Predictably, they altered their sound in the process: Suffer Survive shaved off the band’s grittier edges, the band was positioned as beer-guzzling wastoids, and Cook’s melodic vocals felt part Sum 41, part Chester Bennington. And you know what? It fucking ruled. Long live Nü Warning. 

SLAVES ON DOPE

By our count, there’s precisely one band carrying the true-blue nü-metal—not alt-metal—flag in 2013: Slaves on Dope. For good reason—this Montreal act both looked and acted the part, even having played on Ozzy’s summer-tour extravaganza, Ozzfest. Sure, the band’s still releasing songs about dicks, but this back-in-the-day vid from Snocore shows this band in peak shape—they’re all flying whiteboy dreads, sculpted goatees, buttoned-to-the-neck black dress shirts, and Tribal longsleeves. For a second, we could’ve sworn we were watching an episode of Farmclub. 

SHOCORE

Back in 2001, nü metal was dissolving into a terrible melting pot of pop-punk, funk, and rap. Which, sure, attracted plenty of frat types looking to get their testosterone pumping, but it also produced some pretty mindlessly fun songs. Case in point: Shocore’s half-rapped one-hit wonder, “Bonecracker.” While their album, Devil Rock Disco, contained plenty of dumb-as-bricks, fists-up ragers, “Bonecracker” was probably their most nü metal offering—it could’ve been the lobotomized half-brother of Sugar Ray’s Lemonade and Brownies. And believe us: We mean that as a compliment.

FLYBANGER

Vancouver’s Flybanger, despite their absolutely horrid name, probably don’t deserve to be lumped in with Project Wyzes of the world—even if they played right alongside them. But, says their iTunes bio, they also performed alongside bands like Orange 9mm, Filter and Machinehead, and it shows: Here, they fit in a lot better with the metallic post-NYHC bands that littered the late ’90s, like Quicksand, Handsome, and Glassjaw. (Noise Therapy, who we’d also considered for this list, also fit into the same category.) Basically, their only LP as Flybanger—they formerly existed as Jar—was Headtrip to Nowhere, and it was post-hardcore before post-hardcore had any semblance of cool, and for that, it deserves our respect. 

1000 FOOT KRUTCH

Every genre has its Christian contingent—usually, they’re passable facsimiles of better secular bands—and nü metal is no exception. And that’s where 1000 Foot Krutch, borne in Peterborough, Ont., enter. Though the band graduated into becoming an alt-rock force—even contributing songs to WWE soundtracks, which seems to be a trend amongst nü-metal grads—they began as a textbook rap-rock act, complete with half-baked rhymes, pant zipper-sounding scratching, and slinky slap bass. The horrid-titled “Supafly” is probably the best document of early 1000 Foot Krutch, but for sheer entertainment, check out this fan-made 1FK parkour vid.