She’dalwaysassumedElianwascalleda“genius”mostlybecauseofhisfwlessfadthehaloofbeingarichTianmukid—hypeinftedbyfangirls.

        Butseeinghimupcloselikethis,sheuood:

        hisguitarskillreallywasterrifying.

        Ameri-styleheavyriffscarriedathick,aggressiveweight.Everybend,everymuteElianpyedcamewithakindantviolence,likehemeanttotearsomethingopen.

        Andevenso,Cra’sbrowsstilldrewtogether.

        Becausethewallofsoundwas…ie.

        Therewasnobass.

        Slipknot’smusicsuffocatedyounotonlywithguitarsanddouble-kick.Itscoresoulwasthebass—thoseultra-lowfrequencieslurkingunderground,everywhereatohoutthatsupport,nomatterhowfshyElian’sguitarwas,nomatterhowsavagethedrummer’srhythmbecame,thewholethingsoundedlikeaskyscraperwithnofoundation:t,impressive—

        andalwaysoremorawayfromcolpse.

        Crash—!

        Withthedrummer’sfinalcymbalhit,thesongendedonabrutallyexplosiverest.

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