Limp Bizkit ft. Lil Wayne – Ready to Go

Already working hard to make the next album…

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[3.55]Jonathan Bradley: How do you even hate this? It’s Limp Bizkit as comedy, beginning with Fred Durst, newly endowed with hobo beard (he might actually have spent the past decade living in a dumpster), squealing “go fuck yourself!” like he just remembered that if morality or self-respect hasn’t, age certainly can’t stop him from being a complete asshole. A collection of the ill-advised lines bursting from Durst’s lips include “I’m so poker face, ladies going gaga” and “She like the way we pump it/I call her pumpkin pie” — FRED, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? The only things keeping this from being genuinely impressive as a new milestone in white trash ugliness is a tediously labored chorus and a Weezy verse so incompetent that it sounds like the work of someone’s dad demonstrating his opinion that rapping is so easy anyone can do it. If we are truly lucky, Limp Bizkit will return once a decade with nonsense like this to remind us how absurd it is that they were ever popular and how silly it is that anyone actually found them risible.
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Josh Langhoff: YAAAAAHHHHHH! GO FUCK YOURSELF! Did I ever tell you about the time I visited the Chicago Board of Trade? No revelations to impart, but it’s striking how many removes the trading game exists from actual physical commodities changing hands. (IS THAT YOUR BITCH ‘CAUSE SHE TOLD ME SHE READY TO GO!) Once they get into real meta stuff like options to buy futures contracts on financial indexes, my head starts spinning and bobbing and losing its tether to reality, i.e. the same feeling I get from Bizkit’s obscenely huge rhythm section. The whole trading thing is a stylized ritual of secret languages and hand gestures (THROW THEM FINGERS UP! AND FINGER FUCK THE SKY!), and the mind reels from untangling it all. Likewise, just try untangling Fred Durst’s claims here. “They” say “the whole game done went pop,” so to prove Them wrong Durst quotes Lady Gaga, shows off his Britney notch, and enlists a hitmaking guest rapper who brags about going pop. He drinks gin until he passes out but also offers a bitch taxi service, possibly courtesy a designated driver, because it turns out Durst knows himself. He must be the only one. The Durst persona doesn’t seem real complex until you peer down into its darkness and feel the vertiginous depths rushing toward you and engulfing you and all of a sudden you’re at Fred Durst’s house sliding up and down a pole; who knows how you got there or what on earth Wes Borland’s doing to that poor guitar.
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Alfred Soto: I might’ve graded on a curve if (a) Wayne had played guitar (b) Limp had said “We drink jizz” instead of “We drink gin.”
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Patrick St. Michel: Ignoring the Lil Wayne verse attached to this (and, let’s just get this out of the way… there has to be an NBA three-point shooter more current than Reggie Miller), this is standard-operating mode for Limp Bizkit. Maybe you haven’t had the misfortune of hearing Gold Cobra, but “Ready To Go” would fit in wonderfully among “Shotgun” and “Douche Bag.” Fred Durst is 42 years old, yet here he is reveling in how he doesn’t give a fuck and how he’ll blackout on gin and start fights, all over the same aggro rock that helped burn down Woodstock ’99. He also comes off like an uncool dad, what with his “Pokerface” joke and weird (forced) rivalry with Justin Timberlake via all the women he’s been involved with. This is just Limp being Limp as ever.
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Anthony Easton: In the last week I’ve seen six people dressed in Nirvana T-shirts who were a generation younger than me, and it made me feel old. This just makes me feel sad. I doubt that a similar revival will occur for Limp Bizkit. So Durst maintains his functions — allowing critics who grew up in the ’90s to feel safe about their rockism.
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Katherine St Asaph: No, dear critics, you were the ones who never spoke of Rebirth again. This gets better — even good??? — when you imagine the anachronistic Republica mashup.
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Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: I stumbled upon my first Livejournal post the other day: back in January 2004, it was about making time to listen to “more darkwave and music by The Cure.” Yesterday, I posted a series of thoughts that had boiled in my head about a recent Cassie album track. Those two posts — very different in tone, structure and general coherence — reminded me that I’ve been thinking and writing about music online for over nine years. And throughout those nine years, there was a musical history I neglected to mention out of shame, a musical era that attracts little gossamer nostalgia or poptimist-style evaluations: the early noughties nu-metal wave, exemplified somewhat by Limp Bizkit. But LB (the first band I ever saw in concert!) were more than an odd blip on Billboard’s history. They were savvy curators, crafting a world where Ween fandom and DJ Premier and acoustic Led Zeppelin covers and Speak’n’Spell nostalgia and alt-metal heritage and Stephen Dorff seemed part of the package, that there was a deeper meaning to stomping around threatening to break shit. To a tweenager that missed out on the Grand Royal era, this was what rebellious world crafting looked and sounded like. A lot of kids had their pre-adolescent minds blown by Limp Bizkit, despite the fact that they made a lot of stupid and terrible songs like “Ready To Go.” I know I did. Not letting them off the hook for this song, but I’m glad they’re still at it.
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John Seroff: One point for the kinda interesting ninety-second backmasked drum solo industrial stuff that sounds like something Autechre mighta thunk up on an afternoon. As for the rest: no, you go fuck yourself.
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Brad Shoup: No one has revived a genre — granting Limp’s assumption — by foregrounding that desire. The high-school caveat still applies: Wes sounds great, chopping and chunking away. Nu-metal was usually kind to its bassists, and so it is still with Sam. Durst’s all yap and no growl these days, though, and he seems to be angling for the credibility of being present. I’ll tell ya who needs a win, though: Polow Da Don, who allows too much cymbal loitering.
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Mallory O’Donnell: Attacking this as music sort of misses the point. I immediately began calculating the quantity of weed that Lil Wayne would need to smoke in order to a) make the decision to go ahead with this and b) need money this bad. Either weed is way more expensive than I’m led to believe or Lil Wayne is clinically dead.
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Ramzi Awn: Fairly standard for Limp Bizkit.  At least they made Jessica Biel sound hot in a song.
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