Stone Sour / Murder Dolls

Before there was Slipknot, there was Stone Sour, an Iowa metal outfit that included future ‘Knot vocalist Corey Taylor and guitarist James Root (numbers eight and four, respectively, for those who keep track of these things). Presumably searching for less-gimmicky downtime distractions, Taylor and Root reformed the group in 2000, removed the masks and began exploring their soft-and-cuddly sides. The outcome is an album far more melodic and accessible (i.e. colorless and commercial) than their bread-and-butter band’s bruising output. Beginning with the promising “Get Inside” — the most overtly Slipknot-ish track — Sour quickly moves into the crowded realm of radio-friendly Wonder Bread. Undoubtedly, ‘Knotheads would gnash their teeth and shriek “sellout” if that band released a disc straying as far from blood-and-guts heshing as Sour, but they’d be only partially correct. There’s little doubt that Taylor and Root have made the record they wanted to make; however, it’s equally obvious that the pair spends far more time humming along to Creed and Staind than anything found in the metal shop.

One of Sour’s greatest drawbacks is the absence of Slipknot’s relentless rhythm attack, something one would expect to find on Beyond the Valley of the Murderdolls, the brainchild of ‘Knot skinbasher Joey (“0”) Jordison. Rather than offering a stick-splitting beatdown, Jordo picks up the seven-string and gets his shred on. He should’ve stuck with his day job. Equal parts Revlon rock and Hubba-Bubba punk, the Murderdolls’ B-movie imagery and candy-apple licks offer no new variations on a beyond-antiquated formula. Song titles such as “She Was a Teenage Zombie” and “Grave Robbing USA” might invoke memories of old-school Misfits, but their content is pure L.A. sleaze cheese, replete with hairsprayed solos and choruses that are as huge and wooden as the Hollywood sign itself. To be fair, Slipknot’s monster-mosh shtick has caused it to be somewhat underrated — the group is capable of crafting genuinely frightening music at times. Stone Sour and the Murderdolls are also pretty scary, summoning that uneasy feeling that comes from listening to rockers with too much money, too much time and too many sycophants raving about their heroes’ subpar side projects.