Words of Wisdom

My Heart of Metal May 26, 2009

Music has always been a huge part of my life, from my Oak Ridge Boys tapes and my parents’ records to the huge and constantly expanding collection of music I horde today. My Ipod is one of my most prized possession and it accompanies everywhere like a dear friend (well, a dear friend with over 5,000 songs) and I spend much of my time at work in a separate universe from my coworkers, one bounded by earbuds and one whose very atmosphere is controlled by the volume wheel.

Though my music tastes have changed over the past 20 years, I have always cherished much of the music from those times past, whether it be the country music of my childhood or the grunge of my teen years or the jam bands of college, but there is one particular genre that I have, at times, tried to repress over the past decade. Oftentimes I would try and shuffle it to the back, to keep it from the judging eyes of others who might see it as “uncool” or maybe because I felt as if I were too old for it. Sure, grunge has always remained on my playlist, I love the bands I associate with college like Widespread and Phish, and I am a huge fan of currently hip indie rock, but this other genre has always remained, lurking in the background and waiting for a moment’s weakness to emerge from its repressed state. I may not look the part, I may not act the part, but this fact is inescapable: I love heavy metal/hard rock music.

There is just something about crunching power chords, over-indulgent soloing, screaming vocals, earsplitting amplification, skulls and blood and fire that hits me deep down, igniting a sleeping primal instinct that just wants to let loose and rock. It’s an invigorating stress relief, a frustration release that involves nothing being broken (except for maybe your eardrums) and nobody getting hurt (again, the eardrums). Part of its attraction probably also came from the sense of rebellion from the societal norm. I remember my good friend Andy, who was a devout Baptist at the time, telling me over and over again that I was on a certain path to eternal damnation because of the music I chose to enjoy. I remember that he had a book that told of the devil’s influence in everyone from the Beatles to extreme death metal. Once I borrowed the book and wrote down the names of the bands listed in it that I didn’t know so that I could be sure and buy some of their music. I’m sure it frustrated him at the time, but just a few years later he went with me to a very heavy show (see two paragraphs ahead), so I guess even he came around.

I came of age in a time when heavy music was going through a sort of evolution away from the theatrical excesses of the 1980’s and to a rawer, angrier and more organic sort of sound. It probably started, at least for me, with Guns N’ Roses’ debut album Appetite for Destruction. Never before had I heard such aggression and anger channeled through the vessel of music in a way that was almost therapeutic for letting go of life’s frustrations. Over the next few years more classic recordings followed – Metallica’s black album, Alice in Chains’ Dirt, Megadeth’s Countdown to Extinction, Rage Against the Machine’s self titled debut, and another band that really epitomized my foray into metal, one that challenged me with their ferocious riffs and violently aggressive sounds – Pantera.

From the time I first saw them on Headbanger’s Ball (another staple, by the way), I was instantly captivated by the combination of Dimebag Darrell’s squealing guitar and Phil Anselmo’s raspy, screaming vocals. 1990’s Cowboys from Hell, 1992’s Vulgar Display of Power, and 1995’s Far Beyond Driven became an important trilogy of my high school years that Andy and I would listen to over and over again. In the spring of ’95 (has it really been 14 years??), we actually got to see the band live in Little Rock and it was a bruising and impossibly loud, yet still somehow gloriously perfect experience that resonates in my head even today.

So, where did today’s entry come from?

Before driving to work today I wheeled through some of the bands on my Ipod and came across Pantera, who I didn’t even realize were on it (that happens when you have a music library this large). So, as I drove north on I-55, I flipped over to Cowboys from Hell, turned the volume up loud, and let the heavily distorted guitars carry me back.

Rock on, everybody…

Here’s the video for Walk. Don’t bother to listen if you can’t turn it up loud.

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