With the recent announcement of Linkin Park’s return, there has been heated debate on whether Mike Shinoda should have brought the band back after Chester Bennington’s untimely death in 2017. I fall on the side of fervently abhorring the decision, and as the weeks have trickled past since their proclamation of return, it’s got me thinking about a few things, most prominently: what makes a band? So folks, not a single person has asked for it, but this is something that has been passionately eating away at me since it was announced, so you’re getting pinned down like Alex from A Clockwork Orange and having my two-cents shovelled into your mouth, whether you agree with it or not.

What is a band?

Before I talk about The Linkin Park Conundrum, I want to take it back a bit and define what a band is. The most elemental description of a band is a group of like-minded individuals – typically friends starting out – who want to make music they enjoy listening to. It’s a collection of individuals who come together with the common interest of creating music; each member picks a role, be it singing or playing one or more instruments, and they set out to make music. Outside of this simple materialistic description, there are two other important factors I think define a band. This is the value an individual brings, and the band’s chemistry.

Value

Value comes from each member of the band – a broad metric that encompasses obvious things like competency with their instrument right through to character – things people don’t really think about, like someone’s personality, their motivations, punctuality, how serious they are about the band, and how they approach writing music. This is a volatile metric because it vastly varies from band to band, but it does shape the functions and internal politics of a band. For instance, Tool are a four piece rock band: each member has a strong creative presence and as such, it takes months, sometimes even years writing songs together. In terms of their value however, the band are a unique case, because each individual has an equal share in the creation of the music being made; and because it’s a band made up of lateral thinkers with a distinct voice, if the dynamic of the band was to change – if Danny was to leave the band, say – it would severely damage that unique chemistry. In short, Tool is its members – if anyone leaves, the chemistry is gone forever. Conversely, Seether and Breaking Benjamin hold very different values. Similar to how you’d quantify most buttrock bands, and indeed bands like Linkin Park, the most value ultimately comes from its singers. If Shaun or Ben were to step away from their bands today but they continued on with a different singer, it would be in name only. A good example of this is Breaking Benjamin. After Ben won his lawsuit against two of the band’s founding members, Arron, Mark and Chad left the band. The current iteration is now comprised of four new members, and the sound is slightly heavier than it had been previous, but the member with the most value remained so the core essence of the brand endured. Compare that to Three Days Grace, when Adam left the band in 2013 and was replaced with Matt, and the entire dynamic and vibe drastically shifted – for some, for the very worse.

Chemistry

Though value is an important factor in a band, it’s intrinsically tied to the metaphysical aspect: chemistry. Bands are comprised of individuals with their own unique personalities, desires, talents, visions, and interpretations of creativity. I myself can attest to the power of a band’s chemistry. I’ve been fortunate enough to play with people who become spiritually connected to you when you’re playing. You don’t communicate to each other with your mouth, if you have a great chemistry, your instrument will be the conduit while you experience one of the most elating things life has to offer; creating off-the-cuff jams you’ll never be able to recreate again and communicating through your instrument with the other members, it’s simply magical. However, I’ve also played with people I don’t have a connection to. As a bassist, I’ve jammed with drummers who don’t align with how I process music, and as a result the music ends up coming across stiff or lacking in fluidity. While the value of a member greatly affects a band, chemistry is the quintessential element for any band, and the loss of that connection can be catastrophic. When a bunch of people get into a room it’s like playing the lottery; even if you have a band of very talented members, it doesn’t guarantee good chemistry – hell, just look at supergroups like Hollywood Vampires or, controversially I might add (they just don’t do anything for me) Them Crooked Vultures. Bands brimming with unbelievable talent, but the chemistry falls flat.

With all that in mind, below are a couple of examples, told from different angles, of bands that lost their valuable members and the chemistry that went along with it.

Oasis

While I’m not a fan of Oasis (though I do enjoy their first couple albums and acknowledge their venerable importance to British rock music), there is no better example when it comes to the importance of chemistry. Together with Paul Mcguigan, Paul Arthurs, Tony McCarroll, and Alan White, they created some of the most revered and enduring music in British rock history. However, like I said earlier on, a band is made up of individuals with varying degrees of value to them. In the case of Oasis, the lion’s share of what makes Oasis Oasis comes from the two brothers – two juggernaut personalities who couldn’t subsist as a unit, and where the band inevitably imploded as a result of clashing personalities and ego. Still, it’s these very facets of their personalities that, while pernicious to the band’s survival in the long-run, were the inimitable driving force that connected with so many people. Their chemistry was certainly overlooked by themselves as well, when both conceited brothers went off to forge tepid solo careers in the form of High Flying Birds and Beady Eye. Indeed, given their influence on modern rock music at the time, their solo careers were never not going to succeed, but I think consensus would agree both bands are monumentally overshadowed by the success of Oasis, lacking that much needed element to make both projects pop.

Limp Bizkit

Another worthy example, in the service of value and chemistry, is none other than NU-metal legends, Limp Bizkit. To preface the point – I think all of the members in Limp Bizkit are incredibly talented musicians, however, Wes Borland is such a powerhouse of idiosyncrasy and raw talent, his contributions in the band simply subjugate the other personalities, making it (next to Fred’s vocals, of course) the defining element of their sound. To highlight Wes Borland’s importance in the band, we need only go back to 2001, when he left Limp Bizkit to pursue other creative ventures. This left Fred and the band scrambling to cobble together 2003’s Results May Vary, an intrinsically flawed record that, as the title suggests, suffered tremendously from the loss of its guitarist and lateral thinker. Whether you like the band or not, it’s undeniable Results May Vary lacks soul and the core selling point of what makes Limp Bizkit’s sound so fun. The chemistry from the myriads of guitarists brought in to fill Wes’ shoes wasn’t there, and while the other members diligently carried out their roles in the band, the crucial ingredient wasn’t there to adhere it all together. Thankfully, Wes returned (and left again, and returned again), and they went on to make some of their best material to date, as well as being regarded as one of the best live acts going today.

Iron Maiden/Faith No More

For this example, I’m going to tackle the importance of that crucial member bringing a band untold amounts of success, which, ironically, pertains to Linkin Park as well, since Mike Shinoda struggled getting Xero off the ground before Chester joined his ranks and went on to form Linkin Park. Iron Maiden and Faith No More have very similar success stories, in that they all had an idea, a vision, and a sound from inception, but needed that core element to pop open their untapped potential. Sure, both bands’ first two albums have their fans, but the fact of the matter is, if they’d remained loyal to Paul Di’Anno and Mike Morris, both bands wouldn’t be the household names they are today. The top and bottom of it is, Dickinson and Patton brought an unparalleled amount of talent to these bands, solidifying their own unique brand and opening up a greater ground for exploration. In the case of Iron Maiden, when Dickinson joined in 1981, they went on to create classic after classic in the 80s, solidifying their status as one of the greatest rock bands in history. His importance to the chemistry and dynamic of Iron Maiden was cemented further when he left in ’93, bringing in Blaze as a replacement, which exacerbated Iron Maiden’s mounting tribulations and lack of identity. However, when Dickinson returned in 1999, the band went on to create steadfast-quality albums that represent the band’s core strengths.

Never Letting Go

We now fall into the realm of preference and how I view things. For me, I’m all about moving forwards and creating new things. However, we currently live in a time reliant on nostalgia and repurposing a popular brand by adding a “modern” spin on it. For someone who grew up in the 90s, I was privileged enough to enjoy a plethora of great entertainment. Today, the independent industry – as always – strives to develop fresh ideas and the need to progress, but corporations have been taking far fewer risks in the last decade, opting to parade an already popular brand around with a modern sensibility to it. Frankly, I hate it, with The Lord of the Rings being a prime example of corporations squeezing every last drop of milk out of the cash cow until there is nothing left. The recent announcement of The Hunt for Gollum, and the rumour it’s going to be split into two movies and bring back a cast of old fogies, you can imagine my dismay for the total lack of creativity in mainstream Hollywood. Though the state of Hollywood holds no bearing on this blog, it does connect to a similar pattern in the music industry, as well as the consumer’s need to hold onto something that is well past its prime. Make no mistake here; I believe that even when Chester was alive, Linkin Park was well and truly past their prime. A Thousand Suns, for all its flaws, was their last grand statement, before falling prey to derivative fan-pleasing or risk taking that wasn’t executed competently enough to move the band forward. Though I will always respect an artist for trying something new over churning out the same thing time and time again, Linkin Park, for well over a decade, struggled to make music on the same level as their earlier works, and relied more on gimmicks.

As black-pilled as it sounds, Linkin Park should have called it a day a decade ago. Linkin Park’s schtick from 2007 onwards was “look at how diverse our sound is”. It didn’t really feel like it was in service of progression, more parading that mantra around as a way to sell a product. All of their albums post Minutes to Midnight are inconsistent, to put it mildly. Some of it works, some of it doesn’t. But, with the exception of A Thousand Suns and One More Light for having something to say, it all feels like their albums are made to artificially prolong the band’s life span, because the brand generates so much money. You could retort and say it’s easy for me to say, since I don’t have a successful band as my main source of income, and you’re absolutely correct. Something as successful as Linkin Park is literally like winning the lottery, but then my angle has always been, as a business, when does the line blur between being a job, and creating meaningful art that’s worth listening to? For me, less is more, it always has been. I strongly believe in preserving something that is special, rather than weakening it with a steady flow of inferior products, because the masses want more of that same thing. DIR EN GREY are a prime example of this. People who know me will be accustomed to my stance; the band should have ended their career in the studio with Arche: the apotheosis of their recorded works. They worked diligently for decades, building up to the zenith of their creative genius, eventually enjoying the fruits of their labour by creating three timeless masterpieces that displayed that progression with the fundamentals of their DNA. Like Linkin Park’s global success, what are the chances Diru are going to top such an impeccable creative peak without diminishing it with their usual 3–4-year album cycle. There’s no time to breath. The reality is that the band is a business – a livelihood – and I totally get it, especially in the current climate. But in terms of raw artistry, where bands like Black Light Burns, Frank Carter’s Gallows, and ironically Mike Shinoda’s Fort Minor felt like they had so much more to say, other bands run the risk of diminishing their legacy by going through the motions. Henry Rollins is a very rare case, but one I resonate with greatly. He left Black Flag at the height of its popularity to form Rollins Band, and when he got to a stage where he had nothing left to say, he simply retired from music to pursue creative ventures he was more passionate about. Very few have the fortitude to do this, but he was right. You can see it in the quality of Rollins Band’s works. Nice sounds and feels limp in comparison to albums like Weight and Hard Volume, and Rollins understood he had nothing more to contribute to the art, simply cutting off the problem by retiring from it completely.

The Linkin Park Conundrum

Over 2,300 words in and we finally get to The Linkin Park Conundrum. The very impetus for this blog – Linkin Park’s return in 2024. But, just humour me quickly by going back to Oasis for a second, as they recently announced their return too. How do I feel about it? Well, given that I don’t have much of an emotional stake in the game, I don’t think much of it. However, if I put myself in the shoes of an Oasis fan with my own mindset applied, I would be elated with the news. The reason is because it has all the elements present to make the reunion justified. If I was too young or never had the chance to see Oasis back in the 90s, this now affords me the opportunity to see them play live. There’s also the possibility they might create some new material, which could result in some more excellent music, since they’ve not jammed together in decades. Enough time has passed where some genuinely good things could come out of their return, and for that I’m ecstatic for the fans. But now let’s do a ‘What If?’ scenario. What if Oasis announced their return but it was only Liam or Noel? The honest answer is I’d be as flummoxed and irritated by the news as I am with this Linkin Park reunion. The simple fact of the matter is, Liam and Noel are the core components of Oasis, and without that complete unit, it simply becomes a farcical cover band. Indeed, Paul Mcguigan, Paul Arthurs, Tony McCarroll, and Alan White are also fundamental to the Oasis brand, and to me, their inclusion is important, but Noel and Liam are the main draw for the band, and fundamentally the members that make Oasis what they are.

However, Linkin Park isn’t afforded the same positive scenario as Oasis, far from it. This is a completely different beast. As previously touched on, like Noel and Liam providing the essential values and chemistry needed to make Oasis the band they are, Mike and Chester are as such for Linkin Park. While Mike was the driving force behind Linkin Park’s business decisions, as well as being the primary songwriter, the harsh reality is Chester was the golden goose that made Linkin Park a world-dominating success – like the aforementioned subjects Mike Patton and Bruce Dickinson did for their bands. However, unlike Oasis’ situation, the Linkin Park conundrum is much darker and more delicate. Linkin Park lost one of its core ingredients in a truly tragic way, a shock that left a sombre cloud over the Linkin Park brand, and for seven years now, Linkin Park has remained very much alive in the hearts of its fans. I’ve even respected Mike for letting it remain that way. The anniversary collections for Hybrid Theory and Meteora were an excellent way to celebrate the band’s legacy: each one filled with unreleased material, demos, and things you couldn’t get elsewhere, and with them brought a new generation of listeners to these iconic albums. I even thought the live shows they’d done with various guests taking on Chester’s role was a great way to celebrate the band’s accomplishments in a live capacity. Outside of that, Mike has continued to write music solo, as well as making soundtracks for films and various other things to keep him occupied. So, the question now is – “Why has Mike brought Linkin Park back now?”

I’ve stewed on this for a while now, and the answer may annoy some reading this, but I can’t see it for anything other than what it is: hubris. Mike and the supporters for this reunion know, Chester was an indispensable part of the band. He was the core element most people gravitated towards when listening to Linkin Park. It was his exceptional gift as a frontman, as a talented vocalist with a powerful range that made Linkin Park so special. While the music being created was excellent, it was Chester’s poignant vocals and charismatic personality that brought Linkin Park’s music to life. So, we’re all in agreement that Chester is irreplaceable, yet, paradoxically, we still find ourselves with a Linkin Park reunion, missing one of its most – if not the most – crucial elements. I’ve touched on this for the entire blog, but I’ll say it again: certain people bring quintessential elements to a band’s success, and without it, it’s not the same band anymore. Chester was/is that for Linkin Park. So why bring this band back? Fort Minor is something Mike could, and should, have brought back. It’s a project that was all his, and with so much potential being left unchecked, it was a prime time to revive it. The answer, as I see it, is the fanbase for Linkin Park was just too tempting to leave unchecked. Mike’s solo works and anything outside of Linkin Park don’t get a fraction of the attention his crowning achievement still garners after all these years. Yet, rather than let Linkin Park’s legacy speak for itself, preserved for all to enjoy, Mike has seen to it that that legacy is distorted with this sad rendition.

What of Emily Armstrong, the band’s new singer? Well, as a singer, she’s clearly a gifted person, there’s no taking that away, and had this line-up been a new band, there wouldn’t be any controversies to be had. But then, it falls on what I touched on earlier – it’s business, and this particular brand name still generates a lot of attention and a lot of green. With Chester out of the equation, the new material, instrumentally speaking, is the most milk-toast writing we’ve heard from the band to date, and that’s saying something with Minutes to Midnight in existence. The full album may prove me wrong, but from the tracks we’ve been given from From Zero thus far, it’s looking to be a middling-at-best experience, that, if it was under any other name, would be forgotten about shortly after. Also, from what I’ve seen from live videos, Emily fails to capture the essence of Linkin Park’s back-catalogue. This isn’t any shade thrown Emily’s way as such, because again, it falls under the metaphysical elements I’ve discussed already. Chester had a very hard upbringing and was suffering from a depression so unbearable; he took his own life. Human suffering creates the best art as they say, and Chester was able to translate, emote and channel his subject matter into music that got into people’s souls. Like Chris Connell, who was a good friend of Chester and also took his own life because of depression, these people are revered for a reason. They were troubled individuals who channelled their emotions into some of the most poignant music caught on record. You can’t replicate a song like “Numb” or “Nobody Can Save Me”, because they come from Chester’s experiences.

Conclusion

This blog has spiralled into a monster of inner thoughts pouring onto the page, but you have to understand Linkin Park are deeply important to me. They were the band that properly got me into music, so I don’t think I have a deeper connection to a band more than Linkin Park. However, couple that with how I view music, art, and entertainment in general, I see this reunion as nothing more than a vanity project, something Mike Shinoda had to do because of ego and the starvation of adulation from not playing in Linkin Park anymore. With Rob not being in the band and Brad dropping out of touring at the last minute as well, it only adds to the sorry state this reunion is in – not including Emily’s own controversies. Like a modern Hollywood remake, Linkin Park 2024 is a skinsuit; a bad cover band, led by a man who needs to give his head a wobble. In all honesty, if you’re wanting to hear Linkin Park live, you’re likely to find a truer representation through one of the world’s best cover bands than this poor imitation. The argument that this is a new version of Linkin Park just doesn’t fly with me. A band without its essential value-bringers and chemistry is no longer the band that achieved great success. It’s merely a soulless product, functioning on the goodwill of an already built-in fanbase.