Who moved this thread?
Read a great interview on Invisible Oranges about this very topic.
http://www.invisibleoranges.com/2011/11 ... kim-kelly/
Quote:
When I was first really getting into more extreme metal, all I can remember is the excitement of it all, and how it all seemed to make so much sense. Here was this music–this loud, abrasive, alien sound, with all its different nuances and subgenres–that sang of rage, of alienation, of war and warrior, of sickness and despair, of triumph, of hatred, of philosophy, of lust and sometimes even love. The bone-rattling brutality of death metal, the cold hatred of black metal, the manic intensity of thrash, the despondent heaviness of doom, the no-holds-barred insanity of grindcore–it just spoke to me and still does. The fact that hardly anyone else cared about it made it even more special. It was a refuge, a secret club, whose membership was to be earned and protected.
(...)
It’s a tribal identity, an inspiration, and a refuge. Metal is global. We are everywhere. I remember sitting in my car one night, on break from one of my shitty high school jobs, and listening to Dissection’s The Somberlain with the windows down, with cold air drifting in. It struck me–”Somewhere out there, someone is listening to this same album, and loves it just as much as I do”. That realization meant a lot to me then, and the memory has stayed with me throughout all of my travels and experiences. The sense of community, of (for fear of sounding Manowar-ian) brotherhood/sisterhood that heavy metal provides and encourages is unparalleled and that feeling of belonging is something that metalheads will fight for.
The music itself means everything, and the opportunity to share your love of this much-maligned, socially-unacceptable, difficult music with someone that GETS IT is priceless. It’s outsider art for an outsider culture; not many of us were the homecoming queen or the star quarterback, but within these walls of noise we’ve thrown up and rallied behind, none of that matters. All that matters is the riffs. There is room here for those who desire that sense of community, but also ample room for the lone wolves, the misanthropes, those that desire no connection but appreciate and worship the music on its own.
Metal is love. Metal is war. Metal is what you need it to be. Yes, there are some glaring flaws and issues within the metal community, and the times keep changing faster than some of us can bear to see, but the bigger picture is what matters. Seeing the sheer passion and devotion of metal fans in hardscrabble Russia, in sunny Portugal, in outlaw bars in Texas, in isolated South Dakota, in Philly basements and Berlin squats, London pubs and Helsinki nightclubs, is so inspiring and so empowering. Ultimately, it all comes down to the music–this at times deeply emotional, highly intellectual and complex noise, this brainless gory fun, this nihilistic evil, this fuzzed-out amplifier worship, this vicious brutality, this delicate beauty, this wacked-out experimentation, this heavy FUCKING metal.
It is not a perfect world, but it’s mine. It’s ours.
(...)
It’s a tribal identity, an inspiration, and a refuge. Metal is global. We are everywhere. I remember sitting in my car one night, on break from one of my shitty high school jobs, and listening to Dissection’s The Somberlain with the windows down, with cold air drifting in. It struck me–”Somewhere out there, someone is listening to this same album, and loves it just as much as I do”. That realization meant a lot to me then, and the memory has stayed with me throughout all of my travels and experiences. The sense of community, of (for fear of sounding Manowar-ian) brotherhood/sisterhood that heavy metal provides and encourages is unparalleled and that feeling of belonging is something that metalheads will fight for.
The music itself means everything, and the opportunity to share your love of this much-maligned, socially-unacceptable, difficult music with someone that GETS IT is priceless. It’s outsider art for an outsider culture; not many of us were the homecoming queen or the star quarterback, but within these walls of noise we’ve thrown up and rallied behind, none of that matters. All that matters is the riffs. There is room here for those who desire that sense of community, but also ample room for the lone wolves, the misanthropes, those that desire no connection but appreciate and worship the music on its own.
Metal is love. Metal is war. Metal is what you need it to be. Yes, there are some glaring flaws and issues within the metal community, and the times keep changing faster than some of us can bear to see, but the bigger picture is what matters. Seeing the sheer passion and devotion of metal fans in hardscrabble Russia, in sunny Portugal, in outlaw bars in Texas, in isolated South Dakota, in Philly basements and Berlin squats, London pubs and Helsinki nightclubs, is so inspiring and so empowering. Ultimately, it all comes down to the music–this at times deeply emotional, highly intellectual and complex noise, this brainless gory fun, this nihilistic evil, this fuzzed-out amplifier worship, this vicious brutality, this delicate beauty, this wacked-out experimentation, this heavy FUCKING metal.
It is not a perfect world, but it’s mine. It’s ours.
/thread.
