
Here's my top 10 Edinburgh Festival picks not to be missed
Hanif Kureishi: Shattered but Unbroken
Edinburgh International Book Festival, Venue T, Edinburgh Futures Institute, August 15, 3.15pm
Author Hanif Kureish (Image: Getty Images)
Some years ago (maybe around the time Gordon Brown was Prime Minister) I interviewed Hanif Kureishi at his home. He was a splendid, feisty, bullish interviewee, calling out my questions and taking the hump at times. In 2022 he suffered a fall that left him paralysed. He's now a tetraplegic. If anything, he might have become a better, braver writer as a result. Hosted by journalist Chitra Ramaswamy, this Book Festival event sees him appear remotely, but, such is the force of his personality even now, that shouldn't make any difference.
CLASSICAL
Best of Monteverdi Choir
Edinburgh International Festival, Usher Hall, August 4
I do like a choir. And in this year's compact (or should that be financially constrained?) Edinburgh International Festival this is the performance I'm drawn to. Led by conductor Jonathan Sells, it should be a showcase for the choir and the English Baroque Soloists. The programme takes in Purcell and Bach (both JS and Johann Christoph) and culminates with a performance of Handel's Dixit Dominus.
ART
Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years
Royal Scottish Academy, July 28-November 2
Stretched Canvas on Field, with mineral block removed, after a few days of sheep eating it, 1997 (Image: Andy Goldsworthy)
Sometimes you can have enough of flyers and street jugglers and dingy comedy venues, right? That's the time to take in an exhibition. And this August you are spoiled for choice in Edinburgh. Resistance, curated by filmmaker Steve McQueen, continues at Modern Two for anyone seeking inspiration to be an activist. Dovecot Studios is home to an exhibition dedicated to the textile design of IKEA and the Scottish Gallery has a celebration of the artist Victoria Crowe on her 80th birthday. All well worth your time. And then there is Andy Goldsworthy taking over the Royal Academy. This exhibition includes more than 200 works by Scottish-based environmental artist, including an expansive new installation built in situ. Remarkable work from a remarkable man.
TALK
Tim Pope
Fringe by the Sea, The Dome, North Berwick, August 2, 2.45pm
It's tempting to forego [[Edinburgh]] all together this August and just decamp to North Berwick for the duration. Because this year's Fringe by the Sea programme contains everyone from Chris Hoy, Eddi Reader, Judy Murray and Jim Moir (aka Vic Reeves) to Hamish Hawk, the Bluebells and Dave from Blur. There's even an indie disco overseen by Scotland's pre-eminent musical Stuarts, Murdoch and Braithwaite.
But can I single out this appearance by director Tim Pope? His work with The Cure, Siouxsie Sioux, Talk Talk, Soft Cell, Strawberry Switchblade and even Wham! (he directed the video for Young Guns Go For It) made him one of the key visual artists of the 1980s. In this special event he's in conversation with Vic Galloway.
FILM
Grow
Edinburgh International Film Festival, August 16-19, Cameo, Filmhouse, Vue, various times
Grow with Nick Frost (Image: unknown)
I suppose we should be grateful that we still have an [[Edinburgh]] International Film Festival at all after the collapse of CMI in 2022, but even before that it seemed to be struggling to match the buzz and the engagement found at the other end of the M8 at the annual Glasgow Film Festival. This is the second year of the revivied Film Festival under director Paul Ridd and it comes trailing some criticism that it's not Scottish enough. (Critic and journalist Siobhan Synnot has claimed that 90 per cent of the people selecting films for the festival live outside Scotland).
Despite all that, there is much to see here. As well as a retrospective of Budd Boetticher westerns, there will be in-person conversations with directors Andrea Arnold (Red Road, Fish Tank) and Nia DaCosta (Candyman, The Marvels and the upcoming 28 Years later sequel The Bone Temple), producer Jeremy Thomas, as well as premieres from directors including Paul Andrew Williams, Andrew Kotting, Helen Walsh and the Dardenne brothers. I'm intrigued to see Grow, the new film from Scottish director John McPhail (Anna and the Apocalypse), with a cast of familiar British comedy faces (including Jane Horrocks and Nick Frost) and a plot description that combines the phrases 'Scottish fantasy' and 'pumpkin-growing contest'.
FILM
Bulk
Edinburgh International Film Festival, Cameo, August 14, 11.55pm
And sticking with the film festival ... 'This is a midnight film through and through. Car chases, gun fights, sci-fi and romance,' director Ben Wheatley has said of his new film Bulk which is having its world premiere at this year's EIFF, part of the festival's Midnight Madness strand. Sounds fun. Wheatley's last outing was Generation Z, the Channel 4 TV horror series (the one with Anita Dobson and Sue Johnston as OAP zombies). Before that he gave us The Meg 2. But I'm hoping Bulk - which stars Sam Riley and Noah Taylor - might be fit to stand alongside his best films, Kill List and A Field in England, both of which belied small budgets to offer up potent, unheimlich horror thrillers. Here's hoping this is another one. If midnight is too late for you, there are screenings of the film on Friday, August 15 at the National Galleries and Vue, and there will be a special In Conversation event with Wheatley himself on August 15 at 1.30pm at the Tolcross Central Hall Auditorium.
DANCE
Journey of Flight: Kathryn Gordon
DB3 @Dance Base, August 12-17, 2.30pm
Intrigued by the sound of this dance performance based on the migration patterns of birds and the idea of place. Accompanied by live music from Jenny Sturgeon, Shetland-based dance artist and choreographer Kathryn Gordon's show combines bespoke visuals and avian-inspired movement and should offer a calm retreat from the hurlyburly of the Grassmarket. 'We've really explored what home is to us and that feeling of nostalgia and leaving and coming back,' Gordon says of the piece. It also involves paper planes. And who doesn't love paper planes?
POETRY
At What Point with Caitlin O'Ryan
Spiegeltent, Edinburgh International Book Festival, August 19, 6pm
Actor Caitlin O'Ryan was a regular in the TV series Outlander, but it's her spoken-word poetry that has really got her noticed. Last year her performance of her poem At What Point went viral and it wasn't hard to see why: an impassioned cri de coeur about violence against women, gender inequality and the challenges of female experience, it had echoes of Self Esteem's breakthrough hit I Do This All the Time. But, if anything, O'Ryan's words hit even harder. In this book festival event she talks to Holly McNish.
COMEDY
Zainab Johnson: Toxically Optimistic
Pleasance Courtyard (Above), July 30-August 24
There is quite a lot of work-in-progress shows coming to Edinburgh this summer, Aisling Bea, the wonderful Ania Magliano, Laura Smyth and Larry Dean among them. Nothing wrong with that but usually Edinburgh is what you're progressing towards. Case in point. Zainab Johnson may have her own hit stand-up show on Amazon Prime (Hijabs Off), but here she is making her debut at the Fringe. Johnson's new show talks gun ownership (yes, she is American), relationships and, as the title suggests, optimism as a toxic trait.
To purchase tickets for the Fringe, please click here
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Scotsman
3 hours ago
- Scotsman
is it still a metal classic or has it aged like milk?
This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a small commission on items purchased through this article, but that does not affect our editorial judgement. Has Fear Factory's Demanufacture stood the test of time or, as the prosecution accuse, become a 'flimsy structure' for metal to follow? Sign up to our daily newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to Edinburgh News, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture is widely considered a landmark in metal, but its legacy remains fiercely debated. Accusations range from being overly mechanistic and cold to lacking the warmth and organic feel of traditional metal Is it a pioneering work guilty of derailing a genre, or is it a misunderstood masterpiece deserving of a dramatic re-evaluation? Today, we convene in the solemn chambers of public opinion to preside over a musical case that, while critically lauded in its time, has since been subjected to scrutiny, mischaracterisation, and perhaps, a failure to fully grasp its true impact. On trial: Demanufacture by Fear Factory, a 1995 release that arrived with the force of a hydraulic press, forging a path between industrial coldness and metallic brutality. Often cited as a pioneering work, it has also faced criticisms of being too rigid, too mechanical, and even, by some, too influential in ways that led to less desirable offshoots. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence, however, believes there is compelling evidence for its enduring genius and rightful place as a monumental achievement in heavy music. Before we delve into today's proceedings, let us set the scene. Is Fear Factory's Demanufacture a work of art, or is it merely a work of 'calculated aggression?' | Getty Images/Canva In the mid-1990s, the landscape of heavy music was in flux. Metal, in its traditional forms, was still powerful, but new hybrids were emerging, challenging conventions and setting the stage for what would become one of the decade's most defining, and often divisive, sounds: nu-metal. It was into this fertile, yet volatile, ground that Fear Factory emerged. Formed in Los Angeles in 1989, Fear Factory quickly distinguished themselves from their peers. Comprised of vocalist Burton C. Bell, guitarist Dino Cazares, bassist Christian Olde Wolbers, and drummer Raymond Herrera, the band forged a unique sound that relentlessly fused industrial machine-like precision with death metal's aggression and groove metal's rhythmic drive. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad They built a reputation for pioneering a distinct rhythmic assault, often employing blast beats, double bass drumming, and heavily palm-muted guitar riffs that sounded more like percussive machinery than traditional shredding. Their lyrical themes, consistently exploring the uneasy relationship between man and machine, technology and humanity, carved out a distinct conceptual identity that resonated with a generation grappling with the digital age. It was in 1995 that Fear Factory released their second studio album, Demanufacture. Upon its arrival, it was heralded by many as a ground-breaking work, a bold leap forward that redefined the boundaries of extreme music. However, over the years, Demanufacture has become a subject of considerable controversy and debate. While praised for its innovation and brutal efficiency, it has also been accused of being cold, sterile, and overly mechanical, with critics questioning its emotional depth and whether its influential sound inadvertently paved the way for more simplistic and less organic forms of metal. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad To truly analyse its impact and legacy – and to confront these long-standing accusations – we are today putting Demanufacture on 'musical trial' in the court of public opinion. Let the proceedings begin. In defence of: Fear Factory - Demanufacture The Charge The album, Demanufacture by Fear Factory, stands accused of being a sterile, overly mechanistic, and emotionally cold blueprint for a wave of metal that prioritised rhythm and aggression over organic feel and nuanced musicianship, ultimately contributing to a perceived dehumanisation of the genre. The Prosecution Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are presented today with an album that, on the surface, might appear to be a marvel of precision and force. Indeed, upon its release, Demanufacture was met with considerable acclaim. But I submit to you that this very precision, this relentless, machine-gun rhythm, this calculated coldness, is precisely its greatest sin. The evidence will demonstrate that Demanufacture, for all its apparent innovation, presented a stark, almost unfeeling vision of metal. The drumming, while undeniably fast, often felt more like a programmed beat than the fluid expression of a human hand. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As one reviewer noted regarding drummer Raymond Herrera's work, it's "precision machine gun fire drum work," often raising questions of "whether his drum work is not redone to some extent with studio magic, because it is totally mind blowing, despite the fact that he rarely touches his cymbals." This "machine-like" quality, while impressive, sacrifices the organic warmth of human performance. The guitar riffs, precise and percussive, largely eschewed the melodic complexity and dynamic range that defined earlier eras of metal, reducing the instrument to a rhythmic hammer. Critics have pointed out that Demanufacture "doesn't try to wow you with high-pitched vocals or blazing guitar solos as this album features absolutely none of that." This minimalist approach to traditional metal elements, while a deliberate choice, stripped away much of the expressive freedom cherished by purists. Even the vocals, while shifting between guttural roars and clean, almost ethereal melodies, often contributed to an unsettling dichotomy rather than a cohesive emotional landscape, with some finding the clean vocals "somewhat off key" at times Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We contend that this album, by "prioritising mechanisation over human elements" [paraphrased from general criticism], laid the groundwork for a future where metal became less about fiery passion and more about calculated aggression, paving the way for bands that would imitate its mechanical precision without capturing its conceptual ambition. It streamlined, it systematised, it... de-manufactured the very soul of heavy music, leading to a sound that, "while powerful, often sounded very lifeless when compared to their later work" and "very compressed by today's standards." It set a precedent for a sound that, in less capable hands, often became predictable, repetitive, and ultimately, devoid of the human element. The defence may speak of innovation, but we will show you an album that, despite its power, ultimately sacrificed warmth and humanity for the cold, unyielding embrace of the machine. This album, we contend, is guilty of establishing a blueprint that, while powerful, often led metal astray. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence Members of the court of public opinion, I appreciate the arguments that the Prosecution has levied against the album, but I remind them of the state of metal at the time. This was in 1995, where the metal genre was just on the cusp of breaking into mainstream avenues through acts such as Korn, Limp Bizkit, and in later years, Linkin Park. Where some groups might have changed their formula to reflect the change in trends, I argue that Fear Factory "evolved" their sound not simply to be accessible for newer fans of the genre, but to ensure they did not alienate older fans of their industrial style. Demanufacture indeed sounds emotionally cold and lacks organic warmth; but that is precisely the point of the album. It's a meticulously crafted concept album about a man's struggles against a machine-controlled government, with each song a chapter in his life. As the band themselves stated, the album took its inspiration from the movie The Terminator, and within that context, the 'stark, unfeeling' nature of the album and lack of organic warmth is not a flaw, but a deliberate and essential artistic choice. This is an album that is meant to evoke emotions of technology taking over organic matter, and thus had to prioritise mechanisation over human elements. Not just that, but the very nature of industrial metal lends itself to having a cold, mechanical resonance to it, and I point to the likes of Nine Inch Nails or Godflesh as previous evidence of this aesthetic being central to the genre. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The charges of being lifeless and compressed, giving it a powerful, suffocating feel, are exactly the kind of emotions Fear Factory looked to evoke with the work. Again, members of the court, this is a concept album about technology taking over. The relentless, percussive guitaring perfectly compliments the blunt force nature of the drumming, giving listeners such as myself vivid images of mechanical presses, whirling machinery, and cold, metallic elements as part of the story's chilling narrative. This wasn't a flaw; it was a masterful sonic design choice that immersed the listener in the album's dystopian vision. As for the charge against Burton C. Bell's vocals, his performance perfectly embodies the album's themes of man versus machine. What the Prosecution labels as "off-key" is, I submit, an unfair and superficial judgment. The stark contrast between the desperate, vulnerable human element of Bell's clean singing and the cold, almost automated yells, demonstrates the harrowing duality of the album's core concept. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the sound of humanity struggling for breath against an overwhelming, artificial perfection, and in many respects, a chilling premonition of what life, according to Demanufacture, has become. This vocal interplay isn't a weakness; it's a dynamic storytelling device, full of nuanced emotion that transcends simple melody. Furthermore, to label Demanufacture as a "harmful blueprint" that led metal "astray" is to fundamentally misunderstand its pioneering spirit. This album was not simply following trends; it was very much steadfast in the industrial metal blueprint, while expertly borrowing from the burgeoning groove metal scene that was popular at the time. That it didn't lead metal "astray" should be more of a testament to the importance of the record across the metal genre, rather than dismissing it as building "flimsy structures" going forwards. It's not Fear Factory's fault if other artists were inspired, influenced, or outright cribbed from them and produced second-rate imitations—much like it is unfair to blame The Beatles for a "flimsy structure" regarding the raft of British pop acts that followed them or an act like The Libertines being accused of laying a formula for what has been called these days as 'landfill indie.' True innovation, like that found on Demanufacture, always risks inspiring lesser imitations. This album's influence should be celebrated, not condemned, for opening new sonic pathways in heavy music. I rest my case, your honour(s) Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad What is your verdict on Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture? Share if you're for or against the album by leaving a comment down below, and catch Fear Factory when they peform at Bloodstock Open Air 2025 in August 2025.


Scotsman
4 hours ago
- Scotsman
is it still a metal classic or has it aged like milk?
This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a small commission on items purchased through this article, but that does not affect our editorial judgement. Has Fear Factory's Demanufacture stood the test of time or, as the prosecution accuse, become a 'flimsy structure' for metal to follow? Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture is widely considered a landmark in metal, but its legacy remains fiercely debated. Accusations range from being overly mechanistic and cold to lacking the warmth and organic feel of traditional metal Is it a pioneering work guilty of derailing a genre, or is it a misunderstood masterpiece deserving of a dramatic re-evaluation? Today, we convene in the solemn chambers of public opinion to preside over a musical case that, while critically lauded in its time, has since been subjected to scrutiny, mischaracterisation, and perhaps, a failure to fully grasp its true impact. On trial: Demanufacture by Fear Factory, a 1995 release that arrived with the force of a hydraulic press, forging a path between industrial coldness and metallic brutality. Often cited as a pioneering work, it has also faced criticisms of being too rigid, too mechanical, and even, by some, too influential in ways that led to less desirable offshoots. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence, however, believes there is compelling evidence for its enduring genius and rightful place as a monumental achievement in heavy music. Before we delve into today's proceedings, let us set the scene. Is Fear Factory's Demanufacture a work of art, or is it merely a work of 'calculated aggression?' | Getty Images/Canva In the mid-1990s, the landscape of heavy music was in flux. Metal, in its traditional forms, was still powerful, but new hybrids were emerging, challenging conventions and setting the stage for what would become one of the decade's most defining, and often divisive, sounds: nu-metal. It was into this fertile, yet volatile, ground that Fear Factory emerged. Formed in Los Angeles in 1989, Fear Factory quickly distinguished themselves from their peers. Comprised of vocalist Burton C. Bell, guitarist Dino Cazares, bassist Christian Olde Wolbers, and drummer Raymond Herrera, the band forged a unique sound that relentlessly fused industrial machine-like precision with death metal's aggression and groove metal's rhythmic drive. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad They built a reputation for pioneering a distinct rhythmic assault, often employing blast beats, double bass drumming, and heavily palm-muted guitar riffs that sounded more like percussive machinery than traditional shredding. Their lyrical themes, consistently exploring the uneasy relationship between man and machine, technology and humanity, carved out a distinct conceptual identity that resonated with a generation grappling with the digital age. It was in 1995 that Fear Factory released their second studio album, Demanufacture. Upon its arrival, it was heralded by many as a ground-breaking work, a bold leap forward that redefined the boundaries of extreme music. However, over the years, Demanufacture has become a subject of considerable controversy and debate. While praised for its innovation and brutal efficiency, it has also been accused of being cold, sterile, and overly mechanical, with critics questioning its emotional depth and whether its influential sound inadvertently paved the way for more simplistic and less organic forms of metal. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad To truly analyse its impact and legacy – and to confront these long-standing accusations – we are today putting Demanufacture on 'musical trial' in the court of public opinion. Let the proceedings begin. In defence of: Fear Factory - Demanufacture The Charge The album, Demanufacture by Fear Factory, stands accused of being a sterile, overly mechanistic, and emotionally cold blueprint for a wave of metal that prioritised rhythm and aggression over organic feel and nuanced musicianship, ultimately contributing to a perceived dehumanisation of the genre. The Prosecution Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are presented today with an album that, on the surface, might appear to be a marvel of precision and force. Indeed, upon its release, Demanufacture was met with considerable acclaim. But I submit to you that this very precision, this relentless, machine-gun rhythm, this calculated coldness, is precisely its greatest sin. The evidence will demonstrate that Demanufacture, for all its apparent innovation, presented a stark, almost unfeeling vision of metal. The drumming, while undeniably fast, often felt more like a programmed beat than the fluid expression of a human hand. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As one reviewer noted regarding drummer Raymond Herrera's work, it's "precision machine gun fire drum work," often raising questions of "whether his drum work is not redone to some extent with studio magic, because it is totally mind blowing, despite the fact that he rarely touches his cymbals." This "machine-like" quality, while impressive, sacrifices the organic warmth of human performance. The guitar riffs, precise and percussive, largely eschewed the melodic complexity and dynamic range that defined earlier eras of metal, reducing the instrument to a rhythmic hammer. Critics have pointed out that Demanufacture "doesn't try to wow you with high-pitched vocals or blazing guitar solos as this album features absolutely none of that." This minimalist approach to traditional metal elements, while a deliberate choice, stripped away much of the expressive freedom cherished by purists. Even the vocals, while shifting between guttural roars and clean, almost ethereal melodies, often contributed to an unsettling dichotomy rather than a cohesive emotional landscape, with some finding the clean vocals "somewhat off key" at times Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We contend that this album, by "prioritising mechanisation over human elements" [paraphrased from general criticism], laid the groundwork for a future where metal became less about fiery passion and more about calculated aggression, paving the way for bands that would imitate its mechanical precision without capturing its conceptual ambition. It streamlined, it systematised, it... de-manufactured the very soul of heavy music, leading to a sound that, "while powerful, often sounded very lifeless when compared to their later work" and "very compressed by today's standards." It set a precedent for a sound that, in less capable hands, often became predictable, repetitive, and ultimately, devoid of the human element. The defence may speak of innovation, but we will show you an album that, despite its power, ultimately sacrificed warmth and humanity for the cold, unyielding embrace of the machine. This album, we contend, is guilty of establishing a blueprint that, while powerful, often led metal astray. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence Members of the court of public opinion, I appreciate the arguments that the Prosecution has levied against the album, but I remind them of the state of metal at the time. This was in 1995, where the metal genre was just on the cusp of breaking into mainstream avenues through acts such as Korn, Limp Bizkit, and in later years, Linkin Park. Where some groups might have changed their formula to reflect the change in trends, I argue that Fear Factory "evolved" their sound not simply to be accessible for newer fans of the genre, but to ensure they did not alienate older fans of their industrial style. Demanufacture indeed sounds emotionally cold and lacks organic warmth; but that is precisely the point of the album. It's a meticulously crafted concept album about a man's struggles against a machine-controlled government, with each song a chapter in his life. As the band themselves stated, the album took its inspiration from the movie The Terminator, and within that context, the 'stark, unfeeling' nature of the album and lack of organic warmth is not a flaw, but a deliberate and essential artistic choice. This is an album that is meant to evoke emotions of technology taking over organic matter, and thus had to prioritise mechanisation over human elements. Not just that, but the very nature of industrial metal lends itself to having a cold, mechanical resonance to it, and I point to the likes of Nine Inch Nails or Godflesh as previous evidence of this aesthetic being central to the genre. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The charges of being lifeless and compressed, giving it a powerful, suffocating feel, are exactly the kind of emotions Fear Factory looked to evoke with the work. Again, members of the court, this is a concept album about technology taking over. The relentless, percussive guitaring perfectly compliments the blunt force nature of the drumming, giving listeners such as myself vivid images of mechanical presses, whirling machinery, and cold, metallic elements as part of the story's chilling narrative. This wasn't a flaw; it was a masterful sonic design choice that immersed the listener in the album's dystopian vision. As for the charge against Burton C. Bell's vocals, his performance perfectly embodies the album's themes of man versus machine. What the Prosecution labels as "off-key" is, I submit, an unfair and superficial judgment. The stark contrast between the desperate, vulnerable human element of Bell's clean singing and the cold, almost automated yells, demonstrates the harrowing duality of the album's core concept. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the sound of humanity struggling for breath against an overwhelming, artificial perfection, and in many respects, a chilling premonition of what life, according to Demanufacture, has become. This vocal interplay isn't a weakness; it's a dynamic storytelling device, full of nuanced emotion that transcends simple melody. Furthermore, to label Demanufacture as a "harmful blueprint" that led metal "astray" is to fundamentally misunderstand its pioneering spirit. This album was not simply following trends; it was very much steadfast in the industrial metal blueprint, while expertly borrowing from the burgeoning groove metal scene that was popular at the time. That it didn't lead metal "astray" should be more of a testament to the importance of the record across the metal genre, rather than dismissing it as building "flimsy structures" going forwards. It's not Fear Factory's fault if other artists were inspired, influenced, or outright cribbed from them and produced second-rate imitations—much like it is unfair to blame The Beatles for a "flimsy structure" regarding the raft of British pop acts that followed them or an act like The Libertines being accused of laying a formula for what has been called these days as 'landfill indie.' True innovation, like that found on Demanufacture, always risks inspiring lesser imitations. This album's influence should be celebrated, not condemned, for opening new sonic pathways in heavy music. I rest my case, your honour(s) Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad


Scottish Sun
a day ago
- Scottish Sun
I won Big Brother 10 years ago – here's what I really spent my £116k prize on & what I'm doing now
Plus, scroll down for the list of Big Brother winners from over the years CASH REALITY I won Big Brother 10 years ago – here's what I really spent my £116k prize on & what I'm doing now Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) A DONCASTER lass won Big Brother a decade ago and has now revealed what she really spent her prize money on. Not only this, but Chloe Wilburn, who chose not to pursue a showbiz career, also got candid on what she's up to now. Sign up for Scottish Sun newsletter Sign up 4 A Big Brother winner has opened up on what she spent her prize money on Credit: TikTok / chloejade105 4 As well as this, Chloe Wilburn also got candid on what she's up to now Credit: Getty Images - Getty 4 Chloe won Big Brother back in 2015 Credit: Handout 4 She got herself braces, paid off her mum's mortgage and bought a property outright Credit: TikTok / chloejade105 Prior to her Big Brother win back in 2015, the brunette beauty was a call centre worker. But after beating off tough competition and swooping a jaw-dropping prize of £116,100, Chloe returned home to Yorkshire. Now, speaking on social media, the mother got candid on what she paid for with her winnings, and it's sure to leave you surprised. Posting online, Chloe responded to a comment which read: 'Sorry to be nosey, but what did you spend it on?' To this, Chloe replied and acknowledged that rather than designer clothes and expensive holidays, she put the money to good use and not only treated herself to a set of braces, but ensured her mum was sorted out too. The down-to-earth woman confirmed: 'So I paid my mum's mortgage off, I got braces, because I had rank, crisscrossy teeth. 'I bought a house in Edlington, which is in Doncaster, outright. 'And then I did the house up, sold it and made a bit of money.' While two years ago it was reported that Chloe was running Surgery Sisters, a company that sells specialist post-surgery garments and vitamins, the star got candid on turning her back on celebrity life. After getting married to her boyfriend Dom Tasker and having a son together, the series 16 winner explained: 'Now I own a couple of houses and a dog grooming salon in Sprotbrough in Doncaster.' Big Brother's 7 unprecedented changes to season 27 revealed - as stars watched by 'very invasive' new cameras Chloe's TikTok clip, which was posted under the username @chloejade105, has clearly left many open-mouthed, as it has quickly racked up 94,700 views, 1,812 likes and 48 comments. Big Brother fans eagerly raced to the comments to praise the humble winner and some even called her an 'inspiration.' One person said: 'Loved you on Big Brother, you were my winner from day one.' You deserve all of what you have received! TikTok user Another added: 'It makes me so happy to hear that someone has benefited from it. 'You're so normal and authentic, and it didn't go to your head! You should be so proud.' A third commented: 'Wow, well done babe.. an inspiration. I remember watching you and rooting for you to win.' Whilst someone else beamed: 'You deserve all of what you have received!' Meanwhile, another gushed: 'Nice to hear [you've] not wasted it.' At the same time, one user wrote: 'Fair play, I thought you [were] a dope.' In response, Chloe responded and joked: 'Haha think I must be some level of dope to go on reality TV, but thank you.' Unlock even more award-winning articles as The Sun launches brand new membership programme - Sun Club