We're Not Gonna Take It
I haven't listened to any metal in a long, long time. Let's be honest, the joy went out of metal for me once it became clear that, if I was to be a metal chick, I was expected to either kick ass or mindlessly give up my own. Neither of these scenarios really fit with my personality so the highest metal aspiration I could have was to become a total poser. Yeah, I chose something different.
I found myself watching VH1's doc series "Heavy: The Story of Metal" and I went down memory lane for a bit. I remember how I was completely blown away by Metallica's "Master of Puppets" and that I nearly fuckin' broke my neck loving GNR's "Appetite for Destruction". Yeah, those were fun days. I think that phase lasted almost an entire summer. But, it soon ended as I left for the more sensitive pastures grazed by the likes of Robert Smith and Morrisey. But I would occassionally revisit my brief headbanging days by flirting with guys who were known to greet one another by shouting "SLAYER!" in psuedo demonic tones. This is when I learned that percussionists can be a whole lot of trouble. But that's another story entirely.
It would be kind of funny if some of my mom friends came over to my house only to hear me blaring Anthrax. Would they be shocked? I'm certain they wouldn't really expect it of me. They tend to see me as mild mannered and even keeled (I KNOW! Funny, isn't it?) and I wonder if they would even say anything about it. Even funnier is the thought that some of these sweet mommies might also be rockin' their morning jog with a little Black Sabbath. That'd be awesome.
Oh, musically speaking, things are quite different for me these days. I'm no longer fueled by adolescent angst or misdirected anger. Yesterday I busted out Little Willie John's "My Nerves" and nearly fainted from the desperation in his voice. Man, that woman was seriously doing a number on him! Then I listened to Louis Jordan's "Caledonia" and jumped for pure freakin' joy. This was followed by some classic O'Jays, Sly and the Family Stone, Frank Sinatra, and rounded off with a little Hank Williams (Senior, of course). Yeah. Things are different for me these days. There isn't too much call for the gut ripping, adreneline pumping metal in my life anymore. I'm a bit more subtle now, or so I'd like to think.
But sometimes...sometimes nothing really scratches that itch like a little metal up yer ass.
I found myself watching VH1's doc series "Heavy: The Story of Metal" and I went down memory lane for a bit. I remember how I was completely blown away by Metallica's "Master of Puppets" and that I nearly fuckin' broke my neck loving GNR's "Appetite for Destruction". Yeah, those were fun days. I think that phase lasted almost an entire summer. But, it soon ended as I left for the more sensitive pastures grazed by the likes of Robert Smith and Morrisey. But I would occassionally revisit my brief headbanging days by flirting with guys who were known to greet one another by shouting "SLAYER!" in psuedo demonic tones. This is when I learned that percussionists can be a whole lot of trouble. But that's another story entirely.
It would be kind of funny if some of my mom friends came over to my house only to hear me blaring Anthrax. Would they be shocked? I'm certain they wouldn't really expect it of me. They tend to see me as mild mannered and even keeled (I KNOW! Funny, isn't it?) and I wonder if they would even say anything about it. Even funnier is the thought that some of these sweet mommies might also be rockin' their morning jog with a little Black Sabbath. That'd be awesome.
Oh, musically speaking, things are quite different for me these days. I'm no longer fueled by adolescent angst or misdirected anger. Yesterday I busted out Little Willie John's "My Nerves" and nearly fainted from the desperation in his voice. Man, that woman was seriously doing a number on him! Then I listened to Louis Jordan's "Caledonia" and jumped for pure freakin' joy. This was followed by some classic O'Jays, Sly and the Family Stone, Frank Sinatra, and rounded off with a little Hank Williams (Senior, of course). Yeah. Things are different for me these days. There isn't too much call for the gut ripping, adreneline pumping metal in my life anymore. I'm a bit more subtle now, or so I'd like to think.
But sometimes...sometimes nothing really scratches that itch like a little metal up yer ass.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 10:59 PM
3 Comments:
Fold or crinkle? That is the true meaning of life.
If I ever meet you in NYC or the MSP, you'd better be tossing up the horns.
Or at least teaching your son to do so.
ROCK LOCK, BABY!
Post a Comment
<< Home