Metal, Hardcore, Punk, Death Metal, Thrash Metal... whatever

Metal, Hardcore, Punk, Death Metal, Thrash Metal... Qwerty and miserable, always wanting more.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I met my first love 4 days before my 15th birthday...


When my uncle took me to the event that forever changed my life. March 13th, 1989 I went and saw Metallica perform at the Buffalo War Memorial Auditorium. This single evening shaped my life in a way I could hardly describe with words (although I will attempt to) and set me up for future disappointments:
Blackened
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Welcome Home (Sanitarium)
Harvester of Sorrow
Eye of the Beholder
Bass Solo
To Live Is To Die
Master of Puppets
One
Seek & Destroy
...And Justice for All
Creeping Death
Fade to Black
Guitar Solo
Battery
Last Caress
Am I Evil?
Whiplash
Breadfan

Solid set list, amazing show. To me there was not any one thing as cool as Metallica, not Star Wars, not Star Trek, not Iron Maiden: nothing was cooler than being a Metallica fan. I left that night knowing that what I wanted to do was play aggressive music and play guitar. What I didn't know was that the band who inspired me so much would, in little over 2 years time, turn me off and continue to make me feel embarrassed about ever liking them (in the first place) for the nearly 2 decades that would follow.

The "Black Album" broke my heart. It was a poor man's Danzig record stripped down to near retardation and appealed to the lowest common denominator. I hated it and I hated anyone who liked it. How could this be the same band that in 1986 after hearing them for the first time I instantly identified? I no longer understood, I no longer identified. They no longer seemed like down to earth guys that "got it" and got me, but rock stars; rocking out, untouchable and blind to the needs of a teenager growing up in whitewashed suburbia. I felt abandoned.

For the rest of the 90's, my relationship with Metallica was similar to one that you would have with a crazy ex girlfriend that still hangs out on the fringes of your circle of friends. Occasional droppings of hearsay of that crazy chick Metallica cutting her hair and wearing weird make up. "Did you hear what Metallica is doing today? She's suing some kid for copying her records!" Not to mention, their songs were still everywhere and not just the newer ones. For some reason, classic and modern rock stations picked up the Metallica banner, ignored any of their prior musical peers or influence, and cranked up Creeping Death in between Sweet Home Alabama and some shitty Aerosmith song. The embarrassment continued.

The new millennium arrived and I was working at Days Inn as a night auditor and would watch TV in the lobby for about 5 hours of my 8 hour shift. This is where my embarrassment of ever having a relationship with Metallica hit its definitive peak: I saw the video for St. Anger. Metallica had become a sloppy, drunken (or rather sober), train wreck. I couldn't believe it. It was like watching a loved one die in front of my eyes, I wanted to scream "NOOOOO!" at the top of my lungs, as if they would hear my plea and some how wake up, take a hot shower and fix 12 years of total unfocused behavior. I heard the entire album and couldn't believe that the band, who had once replaced Iron Maiden as my favorite, had put amateur hour on tape, marketed it and actually sold it to the public. I was ashamed. Ashamed of them and for them; shocked that their handlers, management and entourage hadn't tried to stop the album's release. Someone had to tell them what was up, someone had to help Metallica, someone HAD to stop the train wreck.

Then someone did try, or at least to my perception anyway, someone was brought in to save the sinking ship. I could practically hear millions of Metallica fans screaming: "Rick Rubin, save us from our despair!" It almost worked. It almost got better, but the ship is still sinking, even though the rate at which has slowed. I took a chance and listened to Death Magnetic (with an open mind) in its entirety tonight and I got sad remembering the good times. Metallica's found a new home now, pleasing their older, now mellower fans and their newer fans: but it still doesn't work for me. Metallica, we had some good times and I'm no longer angry with you, but I just don't think you have a place in my life anymore.

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