When infamous actor John Wilkes Booth entered the theater and fired the fateful shots in the back of President Abraham Lincoln's head, causing the bearded statesman's untimely death and ushering in a new era for the American south and effectively ending the first American Civil War, the symbolic representation of this singular event was not unlike the symbolic representation of the death of Linkin Park's original vocalist Chester Bennington. The simplicity and carefree nature of the 1860's was a time when presidential figures traveled without security guards and miles of red tape regulations, echoing the same sentiments and hopes espoused in Linkin Park's pre-911 debut
Hybrid Theory. It's no coincidence that singular events happen right before the world as we know it comes crashing down, and the untimely death of Chester Bennington was no different.
A figure like Abraham Lincoln (or perhaps Linkin?) was similar to Chester in more ways than one. Both scorned by half the country, taken out by powers beyond their scope for the ferocity of their unyielding and unflinching convictions, and unfortunately, unappreciated until their demise. The Epstein files and the dastardly deeds of Hollywood moguls and Bohemian Grove regulars such as Bill Cosby and Dan Schneider were the talk of the town only in the sense that town eccentrics and outcasted truth seekers spoke of them with convinced clarity. Fast forward to the year 2024, a time when Hyde from
That 70's Show is behind bars for sexual assault, Harvey Weinstein is no longer funding the latest feet-fests of Tarantino's twisted mind, and the evil deeds of the elite are cemented as fact as our nation is steered at the helm by a cheeto-skinned rapist who took the reins from a prune-skinned racist, many of us who believed in Chester Bennington's message would shout from the rooftops "I told you so!" if we weren't struggling to hold back tears and cracking voices already. Because it was Chester's own poetic stylings and emotive vulnerability that gave us the strength to press on through these times of chaos to begin with. Cornell, Bourdain, Bennington, all silenced and the world is a bit quieter and less honest as a result.
But hope isn't just a campaign slogan used to manufacture consent for endless drone strikes. It seems like one of the themes of America since this nation was created is the idea that anytime someone tells you something can never happen, it indeed happens. They said we'd never land on the moon. Okay, maybe we didn't do it, but we sure as *** tried. They said we'd never end segregation. Well, I work with several black people, and most of my coworkers are chill about it. Lincoln ended slavery. Jimmy Carter brought the peanut to national prominence. You see a theme? People said Ben Franklin was a dip*** for playing outside in the rain, and he got struck by lightning just to prove a point. In this sense, Linkin Park are signing the Emancipation and discovering electricity and peanuts all in one fell swoop by casting a female vocalist for their triumphant return
From Zero. Once again, they said it'd never happen. Maybe think twice before you say things aren't going to happen. Naysayers are naysayers for a reason, and it's not because they're horses - it seems they have a fetish simply for being proven wrong. Linkin Park is here to turn those people on yet again.
For all this talk of Chester, I don't want to dwell in the past. Chester was the voice, the words, the face, but beneath the beanie lurks in the shadows maestro Mike Shinoda, often called the Jimmy Page of Linkin Park. The formation of Linkin Park, down to their image, name, artwork, whatever, was no accident. Philosophy and rock are often a scorned sophomoric combination akin to alcohol and benzos. Yet Linkin Park prove against all odds that they can drive the car home without so much as swerving. Despite female Emily Johnson taking over vocal duties, the song remains the same for the Linkins on 2024's
From Zero. Nu-metal hip-hop beats sparkle with clarity and conviction in a way that make Bizkit and Korn's comebacks only suitable for being wiped off your mother's face. The lyrics are as pertinent as ever, in an era of persecution and bullying. This record is for everyone who was well-acquainted with the bottom of a trash can or the pungent porcelain of a toilet bowl. There's a silver lining of hope in all of Linkin Park's music. Stuffed in a locker? Well, it's a nice place to get some sleep. When life gives you lemons, whether it's school bullies or Donald Trump, you take those mother***ers and throw them back at life itself.
Tolerance and inclusivity is something the world has been short on like a bum who needs two more nickels to procure a 40 oz of King Cobra, and Linkin Park gives us the whole damn snake. Even the controversy of the hiring of Emily Johnson is a mere moot point. In an era where the tolerant are intolerant and the already intolerant are extra intolerant, Linkin Park forces us to drink the milk of art, eat the cheese of nu-metal, and ignore the ensuing farts and abdominal discomfort - Johnson was derided for being a female and for being a scientologist, but Linkin Park's
From Zero teaches us to separate the fart from the fartist. Who gives a crap if she's a Level 10 Xenu worshipper? Since when did religion, race, gender, or creed matter in the world of music? Francis Bacon was difficult to work with, and we pay thousands just to catch a glimpse of his hellish landscapes. Honesty is in short supply, and Linkin Park are here to give us a super-sized bag whether we like it or not.
