You know Sevendust. The white guy with blond braids who looks like the stoned offspring of Perry Farrell and Dee Snider. The black dude with the nest of chest-length dreads. The other three guys providing the chugging backdrop to the snarling and soothing vocals, yet tragically neglected by the band's hair stylist. You know them. I know you do. But name their five best songs. OK, just name five songs. That's what I thought. Sevendust has always kinda existed in an alternative universe distinct from its peers. That doesn't mean I'm about to give the guys a sloppy blow job. It just means that the band's paradox is that it's entirely memorable and easily forgettable. Its sound stops short of sacrifice-a-virgin-and-bite-the-head-off-a-Republican metal but doesn't quite fit into a cozy, nü-metal niche on Wal-Mart shelves. Sevendust is hard and melodic. Fiery and funky. Passive and aggressive. Spic and span. Arm and hammer. Cock and balls. Tits and ... you get the idea.