Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses

1	Prelude 3.0 3:57
2	The Blister Exists 5:19
3	Three Nil 4:48
4	Duality 4:12
5	Opium of the People 3:12
6	Circle 4:22
7	Welcome 3:15
8	Vermilion 5:16
9	Pulse of the Maggots 4:19
10	Before I Forget 4:38
11	Vermilion, Pt. 2 3:44
12	The Nameless 4:28
13	The Virus of Life 5:25
14	Danger - Keep Away 5:45

Barnes & Noble

Having spent the past few years engaged in a constant battle to push the envelope of perversity and musical extremity to the limits, these Iowans looked ready to paint themselves into a stylistic corner. On this surprisingly craft-conscious set of actual songs, however, the nine-piece outfit hop deftly into the mainstream -- or some offshoot thereof. The Subliminal Verses finds the masked men delving into verse-chorus-verse structures (on the seething "Duality") and even immersing themselves in strings -- cello and violin -- on the lulling "Vermillion Part 2." Sure, there are plenty of nods to their netherworld origins ("Pulse of the Maggots," in particular, sounds like it could've appeared on Iowa), but even the heavier stuff has a decidedly more polished tenor. That might have something to do with the production of Rick Rubin, who's always had a flair for putting brutal sounds in precise order, but there's a freshness in approach that's attributable to the band alone. As such, "The Virus of Life" brings in tribal drumming reminiscent of Neurosis, while the sharp, skittering "Three Nil" makes whiplash seem worthwhile. The masks are still in place, but The Subliminal Verses proves that Slipknot are steadily emerging from the shadows. David Sprague

All Music Guide

Slipknot set out to construct the ultimate metal music flamethrower, ever since their genesis in a Des Moines, IA, basement. But they also deployed an agitprop campaign of masks, smocks, and bar codes that helped scare parents (like good metal should) and transform Slipknot fans into faithful "maggots." The Midwestern origin of all this craziness is genius, as the band's marrow-draining metal and twisted, fibrous mythology is antithetical to the region's milquetoast rep. Still, after the gothic nausea of 2001's Iowa, Slipknot's vitality dissipated in clouds of gaseous hype and individual indulgence. Had they grown fat on their thrones? Probably. But the layoff only makes Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses scream louder. Working with famously bearded helmer Rick Rubin -- aka He Who Smites Bullsh*t -- Slipknot pour the shrill accessibility of their self-titled debut down Iowa's dark sieve, and the result is flinty, angry, and rewardingly restless. Vol. 3 shares its lyrical themes of anger, disaffection, and psychosis with most of Slipknot's nu-metal peers. Lines like "I've screamed until my veins collapsed" and "Push my fingers into my eyes/It's the only thing that slowly stops the ache" (from the otherwise strong "Duality") aren't unique to this cult. But unlike so many, the band's sound rarely disassembles into genre building blocks: riff + glowering vocal + throaty chorus = Ozfest acceptance. What makes Vol. 3 tick is the dedication to making it a Slipknot album, and not just another flashy alt-metal billboard. The seething anger and preoccupation with pain is valid because it's componential to the group's uniquely branded havoc. "Blister Exists," "Three Nil," and "Opium of the People" are all standouts, strafing soft underbellies with rhythmic (occasionally melodic) vocals, stuttering, quadruple-helix percussion, and muted grindcore guitar. Rubin is integral to the album's power -- his cataclysmic vocal filters and arrays of unidentifiable squiggle and squelch unite Vol. 3's various portions in wildly different ways. Just when the meditative "Circles" threatens to keel over from melodrama, in sputters strings of damaged electronics and percussion to lead it into "Welcome," which sounds like Helmet covering Relapse Records' entire catalog at once. Later, another counterpoint is offered, when the swift boot kicks of "Pulse of the Maggots" and "Before I Forget" separate "Vermilion"'s gothic and acoustic parts. Vol. 3: The Subliminal Verses doesn't feel like Slipknot's final statement. It's a satisfying, carefully crafted representation of their career to date. But there's a sense that whatever Slipknot do next might be their ultimate broadcast to the faithful. Johnny Loftus

Entertainment Weekly

Comes across as a deranged hippie update of another Rubin masterpiece, Slayer's Reign in Blood. (A-) Sean Richardson