New metal is dead, but Korn remain, stronger than ever trends have shifted away from these new-metal pioneers, snuffing the careers of many of their countless clones. In response, Korn have circled the wagons and self-produced their best album to date, refining the formula to a black-cancer marmalade of corrosive riffs, fist-flying rhythms, gothic-carnival atmospheres and toxic vocals. (“Shut up! I’ll fuck you up!” goes a typical no-time-for-subtlety shoutalong.) When not howling like a werewolf caught in a cyclone, Jonathan Davis manages some surprisingly haunting verses and even squeezes out a plaintive bagpipe solo. Davis hasn’t traded self-pity for self-reflection, but he is screaming “fuck you” with greater precision.