Things I Like, Part 2: Heavy Metal

Is there a genre of music as moronic as Heavy Metal?

Probably not.

The macho posturing, the deliberate aural strain, the obtuse doctrine of louder+ faster= better, not to mention the outlandish lyrical themes, the phony satanic idolatry, and who could forget, the assless leather chaps.

It’s all very silly. It’s what made This Is Spinal Tap so funny, after all.

And it’s exactly why millions of boys are drawn to it like moths to a flame. It’s quite possibly the most fitting soundtrack to male adolescence. Aggressive, rebellious and its lyrics are entirely comprised of sex, drugs, violence, oppression and the occult –things that a 13 year old boy finds fascinating and terrifying, all at once.

I was one of those boys. Heavy Metal, and more specifically, Thrash Metal –an amalgam of New Wave of British Heavy Metal and Hardcore Punk– resonated with me from the first distorted tritonal chord I heard. The Thrash Metal bands were not as flashy or reliant on the Dungeons & Dragons imagery as their brethren often was, instead focusing on musical prowess and a low-key persona. This lack of pretension appealed to me.

And what band was at the top of the Thrash Metal game? Metallica, of course. I mean, they had the word Metal in their goddam name! Their 1986 album, Master of Puppets, became a defining record for the genre and quite a revelation in my early musical life. No other band in the genre mattered as much to me. Of the big four of Thrash (Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax & Megadeth) Slayer was undoubtedly the heaviest, but the absurd Sigil of Bathomet imagery and the Nazi undertones definitely turned me off, Anthrax was a bit too playful and fratboyish and I always thought that Megadeth’s founder, and former Metallica member, Dave Mustain had a terrible singing voice and never lived up to his former bandmates.

Metallica, on the other hand, was a perfect blend of velocity, intensity and virtuosity. The title track off of Master of Puppets was a model representation of the band:

The song starts with a rhythmic staccato guitar riff stressed by drum and bass accents. That leads into a syncopated groove of the main theme that doesn’t let up for two verses, bridges and choruses until it reaches a Metallica staple: the instrumental interlude. Not only does this curveball waylay the listener, but it also sets up the crescendo to the anthemic lyrical summation of the song and the subsequent guitar solo. And just when you think the song might be over, it kicks back in with another verse, bridge and chorus that leads into a coda and ultimately into the maniacal laughs of the titular Puppet Master.

From the moment I heard that song, the sound of Metal was ingrained in the nucleus accumbens part of my brain, producing great pleasure and satisfaction whenever heard.

Even though Metallica never really recovered after the death of bassist Cliff Burton and every album since has been progressively worse¹, that sound has lived in my subconscious ever since. As my tastes moved to the Pacific NW in the early nineties, the Metal tinges that bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden and Alice In Chains showed helped quench my thirst for headbanging as did the Melvins, Guns N Roses, Primus, Rage Against The Machine, Quicksand, Helmet, Tool, Pantera, Kyuss, At The Drive-In, the Hope Conspiracy and Paint It Black for years to come.

As I started playing guitar around the age of 14, I learned that there’s nothing more fun to play than Metal, too. The beauty of a palm-muted, down-stroked, mid-scooped, distorted open E string on a cranked up amp is quite heavenly (or hellishly, rather; to keep with the theme). It’s akin to firing an AK-47 or wielding a thunder bolt, Zeus-style –something you just can’t get from playing Guitar Hero III, I assure you.

The feeling doesn’t fade with time either. Even just a few years ago, whenever my ex-roommate/drummer James and I would jam out in our basement, every session would eventually escalate to a crushing Metal riff-off, no matter how tamely we would start. The power is too alluring to keep from embracing it; I don’t know how anyone with an electric guitar can keep from wanting to unleash devastating riffage, it’s too much fun.

So don’t get me wrong, I love a folk ballad with a three part harmony and a flute solo too, but if you really want to get me going, I’m going to need double kick drums, Gibson Explorers through Marshall stacks, wah-wah pedals and a pissed off, Cookie Monster-sounding motherfucker with a fu-manchu screaming on top of it all.

If I have to give up my indie rock credentials for that, then count me out. I’ll be blasting “Fight Fire With Fire” in my ’67 Mustang…..

¹Although they did team up with Rick Rubin for their upcoming album, so let’s hope he can inject some metal back in their ever-hardening veins.

See Also - Things I Like, Part 1: Basketball

Musings On Metal Mania

As I write this I’m watching a show on VH1 Classic called Metal Mania which is mostly comprised of music videos from 80′s metal bands (Iron Maiden, Skid Row, Whitesnake, Ratt, etc.). Right now a video for Testament’s song “Over The Wall” is on. It is very low budget –as most of these videos are– and it alternates between close-up shots of the band playing to a black background and sepia colored footage of them hanging around an abandoned prison, their knuckles tightly clenching the bars. The music is best described as a mediocre attempt to sound like Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica or early Slayer. I guess the overall message that they’re trying to convey with this video clip is their feeling of confinement; because you know, they’re in a prison and stuff.

That’s another trend that I’m noticing with all these videos besides the low budgets and very unspecial effects; none of the imagery is subtle in relation to the lyrics. In fact, it’s pretty much spot-on literal with no room for interpretation. If the character described in the song has a troubled home life then you will surely see a shot of his dad throwing him out of the house for listening to loud heavy metal music only to be sent down a downward spiral that will ultimately lead to him serving “18 and Life”.

And the bluntness is not just in the interpretation of the lyrics, but the bands themselves. The bassist from Warrant wears a shirt in their video for “Big Talk” that says LICK ME and I’m pretty sure that his plan for wearing such an indiscriminate advertisement of his promiscuous nature is completely self serving. He plans on getting licked in all the right places, make no mistake about it. Short, sweet and to the point. No confusion whatsoever about his intensions, the girls in the crowd will surely know what to do after the show is over and they find themselves backstage (even though, what self respecting groupie would go after the bass player?).

I feel that that describes the existence of all those bands, everything had to be overblown and in your face and extreme, from the hair to the songs to the clothes and the music, leaving absolutely nothing below the surface. But that’s also why some of these bands sold millions of records. Like, millions and millions more than you would ever think that they were capable of selling. We’re talking Jay-Z numbers for some of the bigger ones like Bon Jovi and Skid Row. People wanted them for the shallow pricks they were and they gave it their all, no matter how ridiculous as that got. However, something tells me that most of them haven’t felt any shame whatsoever for what they looked like, acted like or represented, it just doesn’t fit their profile. They saw a million faces and they rocked them all because it was their destiny. What’s a little spandex to get in the way of that?

Right now, a video for Overkill’s “Hello From The Gutter” came on. The name of the band completely encapsulates their image. Leather pants, ripped shirts, poofy hair, spiky guitars, wall of amps behind them; complete and utter visual and aural overkill. I’m sure they sold millions of records as I’m sure that all that money they made is long gone and spent by now; it went up their noses or into fast cars and/or fast women. I hope they got some stories out of it and not just a wardrobe filled with neon green spandex and fringed white leather, that would be the real shame.