A heady mix of hard rock, rap and grunge, Nu Metal was a genre largely played by angst ridden, dreadlocked, white, middle aged Americans with 'issues' they were just dying to tell you all about. If that thumbnail biography sounds a bit derogatory, then it's meant to - no apologies, Nu Metal was always a step too far to me and being shouted at by some Cookie Monster soundalike over a sped up Black Sabbath riff is never going to be my idea of entertainment. Maybe I'm just too old. 'Rollin' at least spares the angst to deliver a more knockabout song that beats its chest and does a Tarzan call for all its worth. Chief Biscuit Fred Durst growls "Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin'" for his supper, dinner and breakfast but he never once gives a clue where he wants to be rollin' too. I don't think he cares; simple movement is enough to show 'the man' he can't be stopped, and that kind of sums 'Rollin' up quite nicely - a clueless song swivelling frantically on its own self celebratory axis ("You want to mess with the Bizkit? (Yeah) You can't mess with the Bizkit (Why?) Cause we get it on") through the spin powered by its own noise but going precisely nowhere. 'Rollin' could probably 'work' when soundtracking something involving lots of violence and/or testosterone, but by itself it's the clown rock equivalent of the Outhere Brothers, huffing and puffing like some bullying blowhard relying on image to intimidate when all the time everyone knows a good punch in the face would send it crying home to mother.