Sam Dunn chronicles the rise and fall of nu metal; starting with pivotal acts Rage Against The Machine, Faith No More and Tool and continuing to pioneering nu metal artists like Korn and Deftones.



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Episode credited cast:
Nic Adler ...
Phil Anselmo ...
Max Cavalera ...
Monte Conner ...
Terry Date ...
Jonathan Davies ...
Leor Dimant ...
Himself (as DJ Lethal)
Dan Donegan ...
Kevin Estrada ...
Dez Fafara ...
Fieldy ...


Sam Dunn chronicles the rise and fall of nu metal; starting with pivotal acts Rage Against The Machine, Faith No More and Tool and continuing to pioneering nu metal artists like Korn and Deftones.

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6 January 2012 (USA)  »

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User Reviews

Boy-bands with distortion pedals, their moms waiting backstage with fresh diapers.
29 February 2012 | by (Serbia) – See all my reviews

I may have been somewhat harsh with Dunn in my previous reviews of ME's episodes. Sam very honestly stated that he detests nu metal. Unfortunately though, he concludes the show with the same overly diplomatic nice-guy conclusion that it's a valid genre, saying the exact same thing as in the glam metal episode. The problems is his "intention to find out whether nu metal even belongs to this TV series" – and he does this by dedicating an entire episode to them! Neither hardcore, crossover, alternative metal, or industrial metal got their own episodes, and yet nu metal did.

Mentioning FNM and Anthrax (for their rare bouts of rap-metal) – fair enough. I'm just glad Dunn didn't go all the way back to Elvis; he sometimes tends to overstep into the past to explain a sub-genre's emergence. It was Korn (the only good nu metal band) and Sepultura's "Crap Bloody Crap" that signaled the start of a lousy new age in metal. "Roots" was loaded with those unmelodious, idiotic, stereotypical and incredibly dull 2-note low-end riffs that nearly all sound exactly the same. Did I say "riffs", plural? I meant "riff"; it's the same riff bloody riff, over and over. Dozens of bands exploited that one riff to move into villas and f*** expensive whores with the profits. They should build a shrine to that riff. It was odd to hear Cavalera refer to "Garbage Bloody Garbage" as "groovy": it never occurred to me that "groove" meant playing two same notes for an hour. It was nevertheless a very successful album at the time, with hordes of future nu-metal fans worshiping its every useless second, praising that one riff, mistaking it for an actual album.

And then came the boy-bands: N'Sync, Backstreet Boys, Take That, Papa Roach and Linkin Park. Most bands until this time had aimed to reach that elusive "11" - until these children came along: they were quite content to lower it to "3". It was time to give the pop masses a taste of metal – diluted, distilled, watered-down, extremely cheap, 1% metal, but metal nonetheless. Sort of. A very SMALL taste of metal. Linkin Park looked like they'd just finished sucking on their mothers' boobs when they appeared on the scene; I could swear I saw drops of milk dripping from their zit-engulfed noses. I just wish their music had been as fresh as that milk.

Papa Roach, sporting the hands-down dumbest name of all the dumb metal-band names, gave us a singer more annoying than 18 Steven Tylers and Bongiovis put together. His nu-metal "tap-dancing" routine made me want to kick every nu-metal poseur who did that annoying stand-in-one-spot-walking/jumping shtick. They must have all learned it at NY's Nu Metal University; I can't tell one nu-metal's spastic stage-antics from the next. Like retarded Duracell bunnies, perfectly cloned. Four buffoons who would have remained anonymous losers had a major music corporation - a Capitalist entity - not signed them, molded them, and turned them into millionaires. Yet these four marionettes of large music corporations (and others who sponsor their useless tours) wrote songs about the greed of Capitalism! Nice.

I'm surprised by the implication that those useless Deftones are pioneers of turn-tables misuse, when in fact it was Bay Area thrash-band Mordred who had extensively committed this filthy deed years earlier. "Turn-tables can create sounds which classical instruments won't necessarily be able to," says a Slayer-T-shirted sociologist. (Do we really need a sociologist to tell us the usual bleedin'-obvious drivel that sociologists always spout?) You know what: my ass can also produce sounds that a guitar can't, and yet I don't go around submitting my butt-CV to bands, telling them that the sounds emerging from my butt could come handy as an additional instrument. What IS a turn-table, anyway? Is it just a record-player that some talent-free Momma's-boy rich-kid-pretending-to-be-from-da-hood makes scratching sounds on because he couldn't be bothered to invest time and effort into learning an actual instrument? Aha.

Both Fred Durst and ex-chubster Chino Moreno are quick to point out that "they be from da hood, boyee". That BS may have worked with nerdy teens in the 90s, but not anymore. Nu metal is like a malignancy that doctors have found a cure for, a boyle on the butt of metal, most likely never to return (as most fads), and destined for oblivion.

However, whatever we may think of Durst, his awful music, and laughable movies, I will always have a soft spot for him in my heart for having helped instigate that infamous riot at Woodstock '99. I always hated that BS festival, and its revival needed to be terminally ruined – and "my boyee Fred" did just that. Gnod bless him. "Peace and love", my ass. We are all animals, and the larger a crowd the worse human behaviour is. Time to take idealism and romanticism and all that politically correct liberal crap out of rock forever. (Fat chance.)

But it's Tom Morello who makes the biggest a** of himself. "What have we done?!" he says, commenting on the raping and looting at Woodstock. What do you mean "what", Tom? Didn't you guys promote a violent revolution of the proletariat? Morello, bless his man-hating Marxist soul, witnessed first-hand what violence truly looks like – and the pompous villa-inhabiting yacht-partying do-gooder Lenin-drooler didn't like it one bit. (This is precisely why all Western Marxists need to first live for at least one year in a Communist country, in the gutter with the rest of the "happy proletariat", to see what it's all really about. A reality check has such a great way of waking up even the sleepiest/laziest of minds.)

And why oh why feature that deranged old Marxist granny Deena Weinstein yet again? Did Dunn find her in the metal section of a nursing-home?

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