Korn Band Quotes

Michael leaned in, his voice turning low and heavy. “And how about me?” I swallowed, still studying my drink. What song described him? What band? That was like trying to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life. “Disturbed,” I said, naming the band and still looking down at the glass. He said nothing. Only remained still before finally sitting back and tipping his drink up to his lips. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, and I kept my breathing even. “Drowning Pool, Three Days Grace, Five Finger Death Punch,” I continued, “Thousand Foot Krutch, 10 Years, Nothing More, Breaking Benjamin, Papa Roach, Bush…” I paused, exhaling nice and slow despite the way my heart drummed. “Chevelle, Skillet, Garbage, Korn, Trivium, In This Moment…” I drifted off, peace settling over me as I looked up at him. “You’re in everything.

The USA, the Soviet Union and the GDR want to raise the Titanic,’ he says, lifting his eyebrows. ‘The USA wants the jewels presumed to be in the safe,’ he nods, ‘the Soviets are after the state-of-the-art technology; and the GDR’—he downs his Korn for dramatic pause—‘the GDR wants the band that played as it went down.

Richey James, the band’s resident depressive and ropey rhythm guitarist, is less enthusiastic, despite appearing quite content. “I never find it exciting to go anywhere,” he shrugs. “You get much more true information from literature than from travelling. Like, if I want to know about France, I’ll buy the book.

He justifies the cigarette burns as, “my way of not screaming or shouting when things fuck up. It’s just discipline, and something to do. We never call each other cunts and wankers in this band. We just walk away.” “What I usually do,” pitches in Nicky, “is put all my clothes in the sink and wash ‘em. That’s the difference between him and me!

That was like trying to pick one food to eat for the rest of your life. “Disturbed,” I said, naming the band and still looking down at the glass. He said nothing. Only remained still before finally sitting back and tipping his drink up to his lips. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, and I kept my breathing even. “Drowning Pool, Three Days Grace, Five Finger Death Punch,” I continued. “Thousand Foot Krutch, 10 Years, Nothing More, Breaking Benjamin, Papa Roach, Bush . . .” I paused, exhaling nice and slow despite the way my heart drummed. “Chevelle, Skillet, Garbage, Korn, Trivium, In This Moment . . .” I drifted off, peace settling over me as I looked up at him. “You’re in everything.