Photo Credit: Abbi Draper (16th March 2025 – OVO Arena Wembley)
Is it 1999? Have we somehow woken up in our teenage pomp before the world went down the toilet? It’s a rare and beautiful thing when a band turns a gig into something that feels like a full-blown event. A seismic, once-in-a-lifetime, oh-my-god-we-were-there kind of night. And if you were lucky enough to witness it then strap yourself in, because you know exactly what went down. A full-scale musical riot of joy, nostalgia, and unfiltered, smile-aching mayhem. And that, ladies, fellas, all the lovers, all the haters, and all the people that call themselves players, hot mamas and pimp daddies, is exactly what Limp Bizkit delivered at the Glasgow Hydro on Saturday night.
From the second DJ Lethal dropped that first unmistakable, booty shaking first beat, it was game on. The Hydro was bouncing—no, bobbing up and down like a tidal nu-metal ocean—in a way that only happens when a band knows exactly how to push every single one of the crowd’s buttons – which is more than could be said for the event host Jon Carnage who faceplanted harder than a drunk dude on stilts in a mosh pit – but the less said about him the better.
Bizkit main man Fred Durst may be rocking an old man style bucket hat more often than his iconic red cap these days but this eternal ringleader of mischief, continues to to own the stage like it was still the noughties. And make no mistake—he’s still got it. That frontman star quality, tongue-in-cheek swagger and the ability to control a crowd with a flick of the wrist, and a delivery that flips from growling rap-metal menace to a cheeky grin faster than you can say, “Keep rollin’, rollin’, rollin’.”
And oh, how it rolled. My Generation? Chaos. Boiler? Guttural. Nookie? Glorious bedlam and then there was Break Stuff—not once, but twice—because one serving of the most iconic nu-metal anthem simply wasn’t enough so we got it as both their set opener and closer, to ensure there a Glasgow sky full of rock horned fists, sweat, and euphoria in the air that it felt like a festival packed into one jam packed arena.
Wes Borland, the forever-underrated riff lord, was in vintage form. One moment he’s an avant-garde alien, churning out riffs that sound like they were forged in a volcanic cave on Saturn, the next he’s locking in with Sam Rivers and John Otto to form the grooviest rhythm section in nu-metal history. Speaking of John Otto—there’s a reason people still shout, “Take it to the Matthews Bridge” like it’s a battle cry. That swing, that unique loose, soul stirring bounce that makes Limp Bizkit unlike anyone else in heavy music, is still there in full force.
The bangers kept flowing and their famously infectious cover of Faith had the whole room crooning along with their special person in their arms, or sometimes just the random shoulder-to-shoulder in the pit. A filthy riffed-up take on Pantera’s Walk turned the place into a headbanging battleground. Of course, it was nostalgia-fuelled but Limp Bizkit don’t just coast on the throwback energy of yesteryear. This was a band still loving every second of what they do, still playing for their crowd rather than just at them, and still proving that they are, and always will be, one of the most joyously unhinged live acts on the planet. Easily one of the top five gigs we’ve been to in a decade. Because guess what? In 2025, thanks to the cyclical beast that is music, Limp Bizkit are cooler than ever. TikTok kids are losing their minds over Nookie like it’s some lost relic of a golden age they missed. But this isn’t just some ironic revival—the truth is, Bizkit never stopped being unapologetically themselves. They embraced the memes, leaned into the absurdity, and came out the other side as icons and underdogs all at once.
Whether you’re a die-hard fan from the Woodstock ’99 days or a Gen Z kid discovering Nookie for the first time, a Limp Bizkit show is a rite of passage. It’s catharsis, camaraderie, and a little bit of madness all rolled into one.
What’s truly remarkable is how they’ve bridged the gap between generations. The Glasgow crowd was a healthy near 50/50 split between the two generations and it was clear that Bizkit have struck a chord with the new music loving generation. Probably because their back catalogue of bangers has found a second life on TikTok and Spotify playlists, and their defiant attitude resonates with today’s youth just as much as it did with us and our friends in the late ‘90s. That’s the magic of Limp Bizkit—they’ve never tried to change who they are. They’ve stayed true to their roots, proving that authenticity always wins in the end.
Glasgow Hydro, you just got Bizkit’d. And if you’re still standing after that, you’re talking out of your backside.
10/10 – Dumb, fun, and utterly, brilliantly unforgettable.
