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Download's Main Stage line-up on Friday was a curiosity indeed. With the odd exception, Friday was 'nu-metal' revisited.

At its peak almost exactly a decade ago, nu-metal was the genre spawned by the alternative sector, that took Radio 1 by storm, 'the' genre that saw in the new millenium, whether we liked it or not. Nobody was quite sure what defined nu-metal. Korn seemed to give birth to the term, by playing their songs in a completely new tuning, or detuning. Along with themes of alienation and general disenchantment, this seemed to define the movement, although some people said it had to involve a DJ and/or MC within the band, merging the 'metal' with elements of hip-hop.

Critics of the genre suggested it was watered-down sedition; obsessed with the superficial trappings of fame; faux-rebellion for teenagers angry at their parents. Whatever your opininon, it was clear that nu-metal appeared to be relevant once more on Friday's Main Stage.

Despite missing some of the finest proponents of the genre (Spineshank, Videodrone), it was the most intriguing of line-ups, with each band owing a huge debt to the band following them: Faith No More begat Korn; Korn begat Limp Bizkit; Limp Bizkit begat Staind.

Staind had the jury out, although their slow-burner anthem 'Outside' did prompt a mass singalong. Limp Bizkit stuck two fingers, literally and figuratively, to their critics, with Fred Durst leading a popular set. He had the fans waving the hand gestures along to 'Rollin'', getting down and dirty to 'Nookie', and bellowing along to 'Eat You Alive', like the iconic showman he evidently is. Love him or hate him, the crowd love every minute when he pulls two lookalikes on stage to headbang and roar along.

Korn are all power, their trademark detuned beatdowns enthralling the crowd. 'Got the Life' causes an earthquake, but sadly they find no room for 'A.D.I.D.A.S.' or 'Clown'. Their Pink Floyd cover doesn't really capture the imagination, but the crowd have proved that nu-metal still has pulling power. Static X have the day to themselves Saturday, it would have been interesting to see them on this day; the day that nu-metal reasserted its authority, motherf***er. DOWNLOAD Part Dos

With most of the younger entourage ready to be bludgeoned by some classic Faith No More brutality, the band do what they do best: throw everybody a curveball, with a large garnish of comic genius. When the band open their set soft and swinging to the gentle, lilting strains of Peaches and Herb's 'Reunited (And It Feels So Good)', the more passionate throngs are close to tears; part emotion at the resurrection of this mighty act after more than a decade, part laughter at the hilarious song choice. Typically, majestically Faith No More.

With laughter and cacophonous adulation ringing around Donington, the first FNM original to hit the masses is the 8 minute opus: 'The Real Thing'. Its hard to comprehend that this track was released a full 20 years earlier, on the album of the same name. Its myriad twists and turns perfectly lay the foundations for what's to come. The next two tracks are the openers from Faith No More fan's traditionally favourite albums.

'From Out of Nowhere', the breathlessly thrash-tastic opener from 'The Real Thing' is followed swiftly by 'Angel Dust''s opener 'Land of Sunshine'. These get the crowd nicely active, with the only complaint being the sound tech doing a poor job with Roddy's keys on 'From Out of Nowhere'. Patton adds depth to his vocal stylings with a loudhaler, complete with siren sound effect, and wields his cane like a shotgun for the heavy thrash of 'Caffeine'.

These songs feel as fresh and urgent as they did first time around in 1992, and after Patton's hilariously lame 'heavy metal' gag, the band change the mood with the neo-jazz licks of 'Evidence'. Patton continues his waspish humour by breaking into a bout of 'Spanish' midway through, before mocking those who didn't realise he was actually singing in Portuguese!

After the set thus far progressing in chronological order, the band move back to 1987 for a Chuck Moseley cut: the floaty synth delights of 'Chinese Arithmetic'. More delicious comedy from that man, as Patton continues the live tradition of homaging pop songs, opening with a brilliantly deviant beatbox rendition of Lady Gaga's 'Poker Face'. After a frenetic headbanging session, Patton asks if the crowd are ready for 'another ballad'.

Of course, this means it's time for the death-metal pastiche of 'Surprise, You're Dead', while Roddy pops out for a cuppa or some such refreshment. Billy Gould headbangs like it's his last day on Earth, while Hudson is as unmoving as 'Big Sick Ugly' Jim Martin used to be. Patton wrings sounds from his throat that could only have been extracted from nasty hot place far far away, and it proves a glorious triumph.

What better way to follow the ingenuous charm of 'Surprise...' than with the mellow and staggeringly successful cover of 'Easy', now a regular feature of Sky Sports' 'Goals on Sunday'. With tongue burrowed in cheek, the band glide through it consummately, some crowd participation adding to the love.

'Last Cup Of Sorrow' goes down a storm, Billy Gould's slow-tempo slap bass a magnificent highlight. Next up is the song that transformed the band from thrash metal pin-ups to leftfield deviants, and stuck two fingers up to their record company: 'Midlife Crisis', the lead-off single from 'Angel Dust'.

At once a defining alt-metal anthem and a heart-wrenching cry for acceptance, this song is greeted with the reverance it deserves. Of course, the band follow it with the brainless delights of 'Introduce Yourself', from the album of the same name. Patton sounds as if he is having a whale of a time, so naturally the next track is a tribute to the positive effects of violence; the Jekyll and Hyde 'Gentle Art Of Making Enemies'.

Time for some banter between Roddy, Mike and the crowd, and a discussion of where people will be sleeping ends with the brilliant one-liner from Roddy: "I just felt like i turned into Jim Martin', a sarcastic reference to FNM's old fans' favourite guitarist, who became known as a bit of a comedy figure who overindulged in groupie action somewhat.

The big soul balladry of 'Take This Bottle' is well-received, and once they have ripped through the hard-edged power ballad 'Ashes to Ashes', it is time for the traumatic grind of 'Malpractice'. Being one of their more insanely complex songs, the band decide to melt quickly into the equally punishing, beatdown-laden 'Cuckoo For Caca'.

A frenetic finish leds into the comic mastery of 'Be Aggressive'; an ode to male-on-male fellatio, written by Roddy and based on a classic cheerleading chant. The next choice tends to divide opinion: 'Epic'. The young people just getting into FNM will obviously be listening for it, but live it always sounds a bit duff, as Patton doesn't tend to nasal-rap any more, and Roddy or Billy usually fill in vocals on the chorus, which just doesn't sound right.

The band throw another curveball as they blast into the most obscure track of the set: 'Mark Bowen', a powerful track from their very first album before major label success, named after an ex-guitarist. The fans love these intricate touches, and FNM have now officially represented every one of their releases tonight.

They leave the stage with the loveliest of parting shots, but the fans know an encore is imminent. Chants of 'You fat b*****ds' and the rather unoriginal 'Faith No More' soon see them take to the stage once more. As usual they revel in confusing the hell out of everyone by opening their reprise with 'Chariots of Fire', before a seamless segue into the melancholy electronica of 'Stripsearch'. Received rapturously, the final track proves to be a seminal FNM belter: the sardonic funk of 'We Care a Lot'.
They cared a lot, we cared a lot, we ALL cared a lot. Welcome back, you fat b*****ds! THE DOWNLOAD CHRONICLES part uno

So i've blown the best part of £185 on arena, camping and car tickets, and this is the moment i have surrendered two months worth of food and prostitutes for: the band that opened my eyes and soul to all that music could be; the band who inspired my first tattoo; the band who unfortunately and inexplicably spawned the ridiculous nu-metal genre....Faith No More.

The stage is dressed with opulent red curtains, and there is a tremulous roar as the men who have spent over a decade hardly speaking take to the stage. 11 years has taken its toll: Mikey Bordin looks the most weathered, his goatee and mighty dreads greying at the edges and his eyes wearing a permanently fatigued expression. Billy Gould looks in tip top condition, though his close-cropped hair is garnished with the merest hint of recession and his goatee also dusted.

Roddy aged most in the last couple of years with the band, and now in fact looks as if he has more hair; his gag about having a facelift could easily pass as truth. Jon Hudson looks even more rugged than before, wearing a well-tailored suit, shaving his bonce bald and dripping with designer stubble. Then of course is the man everybody is clamouring to see: Sir Michael of Patton. He enters the stage like an eccentric cripple, dressed in an immaculate red suit and limping on a cane with some designer shades completing the look; think Bryan Ferry meets Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka.

Patton is, as ever, the Peter Pan of the group, 41 and not looking a day over 30, he reminds everybody that this group will never truly age. The sun is sliding over the horizon and Donington roars its approval, as the first note from Hudson announces Faith No More's resurrection and return to the big time stage they had once owned...