I can almost hear the collective clunk as you all drop to the floor in a dead faint. Limp Bizkit? Don’t you hate them? Don’t you wish bad things to happen to Fred Durst? Well, yes and yes. But this was before Durst slipped into asshole mode and before LB became a favorite of 12 year old rebellious white boys everywhere.

Forget the stilted remake of Faith. That’s not what 3 Dollar Bill is about. Skip right over it. Hit Stuck or Sour or Nobody Loves Me instead. Pure adrenaline. This wasn’t so much rap-metal as it was “holy shit, I am really pissed off at the world” metal. Sure, it’s metal aimed at suburban white boys in baggy pants and backward baseball caps who have daddy issues and drink PBR as if that’s supposed to be ironic, but sometimes middle aged women feel all disaffected and angry, too. Or maybe we just like to take a break from paying bills and worrying about the economy to relive the days when teen angst was consumed our thoughts.

Three Dollar Bill is an ok album for all that. Before Durst realized he could sell a million records by dumbing it down the simple phrase break stuff, before he did it all for the nookie, before the sex tapes and before the world realized he’s a dick, he put out some decent stuff. Too bad about the rest of the albums. And his career.

Favorite song: Stalemate
The Fred Durst sex tape. Bring your own eye bleach.