MUSIC: One big, happy, twisted family at the Slipknot show

Lead singer Corey Taylor addresses the crowd. (Credit: Lindsay Hansen)

2009 marks the tenth anniversary of Slipknot, the legionnaires of darkness and marketable heavy metal miracle successors from Des Moines, Iowa. Despite their fanbase in the depths of angst-ridden adolescents, Slipknot's mastery of the genre earned them seven Grammy nominations, winning one in 2006 for "Before I Forget". 

Their latest album, All Hope is Gone, went public in 2008 after the Mayhem Festival in the summer, reaching Gold status before the year ended. Orlando's metal masses opened their arms and hearts wide to the nine masked men. Sid Wilson is on the turntables, Joey Jordison on the drums, Paul Gray on bass, Chris Fehn and Shawn Crahan on custom percussion, James Root and Mick Thomson on guitars and Corey Taylor as lead vocals. The man has a voice that can march loyal fans to hell and back without opposition. 

"Oh. My. God. That's just freaky," one of the event staff said under her breath as Slipknot walked out from backstage. The band's signature look- masks that bring about images of Earth's impending apocalypse, are part of their success. Instead of nicknames, the band members are numbered zero through eight. Everything about them is against conformity, but their influence on industrial culture is a conformity in itself. Taylor says jump, everyone jumps. Everyone knows the lyrics to Duality, everyone throws up their devil horns and middle fingers. 

The University of Central Florida's Arena housed this spectacle, the bright lights and flashing colors a contrast to the sea of black covering the floor. In a stance against the "negative Hollywood douchebags", as labeled by Taylor, Slipknot's music has the ability to make these soul-searching teens, young adults and those decade-long devoted fans a place where they're accepted, a notion that is clear by the roar after Taylor announces their familiar bond. 

Despite the obvious increased security, the spectators aren't all destructive, thrill-seeking stereotypes of their subculture. There is a pure, unadulterated appreciation for the message behind the music, despite songs like "Psychosocial" and "People equal shit". It's obvious by the way the audience responds to the stage that there is an understanding between the two parties, and by the end of the third encore, there's an atmosphere of acceptance rather than conformist apprehension.