Cinema’s brief and cringeworthy obsession with nu-metal soundtracks
Chimaira. Ill Niño. Drowning Pool. Spineshank. Adema. Godhead. Static-X. Mudvayne. Saliva. Chevelle. If you’re unfamiliar with the early 2000s nu-metal scene, you might think some of these band names are made up. Sure, most people know Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, Evanescence, and Papa Roach, but Chimaira? Or Spineshank? Those are the deeper cuts. Rest assured, though—these are all real bands. In fact, some are still going strong. To anyone who spun Ill Niño’s latest single, ‘Beast Inside’, released in July 2024, I salute you. You’re the real ones.
For those of a certain generation—specifically, anyone aged between 35 and 42—the early 2000s nu-metal era was a glorious time. The genre, which fused traditional metal heaviness with an eclectic mix of hip-hop, industrial, funk, and grunge elements, burned brightly but flamed out relatively quickly, occupying a brief yet impactful moment in music history.
For fans who lived through it, watching MTV2 and Scuzz TV every day after school felt like a religion. Reading Kerrang magazine each week was a sacred ritual. And best of all, cranking up the latest Hollywood blockbuster’s nu-metal soundtrack was nothing short of a celebration.
As a teenager in this period, it seemed like Hollywood couldn’t go a week without releasing a tie-in nu-metal soundtrack for its latest superhero/horror/action picture. Obviously, soundtracks have been around since the 1980s, when the likes of Top Gun, Dirty Dancing, and Rocky IV did huge numbers with their tie-in albums. But the early ’00s soundtracks were unique precisely because so many went the nu-metal route.
For example, when audiences watched Ben Affleck swing through the back alleys of Hell’s Kitchen as blind vigilante Matt Murdock in 2003’s Daredevil, the action was set to the dulcet tones of Evanescence, Hoobastank, and Fuel. The standout, however, was Drowning Pool and Rob Zombie’s contribution, ‘The Man Without Fear’—a track whose chorus consisted of Zombie screaming, “Come on, come on, come on, come on, Daredevil,” while guitars screeched wildly in the background.
Similarly, after watching Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees slice and dice each other – as well as a host of nubile teens – in Freddy vs Jason, nu-metal devotees were honour bound to purchase the soundtrack album in their local record shop/soulless corporate chain store. This 76-minute opus was comprised of 20 – yes, 20 – tracks of nu-metal and nu-metal adjacent bangers, including Slipknot, Stone Sour, Mushroomhead, Nothingface, DevilDriver, and Killswitch Engage.
Perhaps the crowning achievement of the Hollywood nu-metal era came in 2002, though. This was when Warner Brothers decided to take a unique approach to adapting a 1988 Anne Rice vampire novel. Functioning as a semi-sequel to Interview with the Vampire, this remarkable picture featured the villainous Lestat – now played by Stuart Townsend instead of Tom Cruise – roused from his lengthy hibernation by the sounds of, you guessed it, a nu-metal band. The centuries-old bloodsucker then did the only sensible thing: he became the band’s lead singer and took them to global stardom.
To the delight of nu-metal fans everywhere, Jonathan Davis of Korn provided Lestat’s singing voice in the film. However, here’s where it all gets a bit strange. Warner Bros couldn’t use Davis’ vocals on the tie-in soundtrack because Korn was contractually obligated to Sony BMG. So, a novel solution was found for recording the five original cuts Davis had written and performed in the film. A selection of nu-metal greats stepped in to perform Lestat’s vocals on record: David Draiman of Disturbed, the late Wayne Static of Static-X, Jay Gordon of Orgy, Marilyn Manson, and the tragically departed Chester Bennington of Linkin Park.
The album wound up being certified gold in the US, having shifted an impressive 500,000 units. It’s probably more fondly remembered that the film, which these days tends to be inherently tied to star Aaliyah’s tragic death in a plane crash six months before it was released.
So why did the trend die out almost overnight?
Sadly, for every spiky-haired, wallet chain-wearing fan of ropey early 2000s films and even ropier nu-metal music, the trend mostly died out by the mid-2000s. As quickly as it became a legitimately successful cultural proposition, the genre fell off a cliff. Many big guns changed their style to avoid being associated with the critically-reviled genre, and nu-metal quickly became a very uncool proposition. Then, as the music industry subsequently moved into the downloading/streaming era, tie-in soundtracks as a whole became less relevant than ever.
Ultimately, Hollywood’s brief obsession with nu-metal soundtracks is now looked back upon with an ironic side-eye. The industry will always chase what is popular because it makes money, and for that brief time, aggressive rock music with rap, electronic, and funk influences was what sold units. Then, when the popularity declined, Hollywood said, “See you later”,
Why do so many have such an emotional attachment to that time and those soundtracks, though? Well, nostalgia is obviously a huge factor. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out why it feels so good to think back on a time when you didn’t have any responsibilities beyond studying for exams, playing PlayStation, and listening to a guy screaming at the top of his lungs about Daredevil.
I can’t help wondering if there’s a more profound element at work here, though. In recent years, it has become painfully obvious that the nu-metal era – brief though it was – was the last time rock music was genuinely culturally relevant. Jokes to the effect of “Rock is dead” have been floating around for years, and it’s easy to see why. The prevalence of guitar-driven music at the top of the charts is lower than ever, and the chance of new rock bands breaking through in a big way is almost nonexistent. When nu-metal soundtracked Hollywood, though, new bands were getting their music out to millions of music and cinema fans weekly. In truth, maybe that’s something to be championed, not viewed at an ironic distance.
