After suffering some work-related setbacks recently, it dawned upon me that basically all of the people who have caused me genuine consternation during the past years have been metal fans. What I mean by that is that these people have expressed a genuine delight in partaking of the music and culture of ”heavy metal,” and its various offshoots: black, death, speed, whatever.
Is there a real pattern here? The more I think about it, the more I can see how tangible the equation actually is. From my own very personal and therefore highly subjective perspective it’s as true as it gets: people who like metal ”for real” are people with whom I can have no working relationship. They have proven it for me over and over again. I should have learnt that lesson earlier, but alas…
From now on, whenever I initiate some kind of substantial creative or business relationship, I need to inquire what the person in question feels about heavy metal or black metal or whatever metal. If they give an inkling of surprised attitude, or, even worse, a blatant ”Hell, yeah, I love metal” then we simply can’t dance.
Why do I feel this prejudiced? Well, first of all, it’s absolutely idiotic music. As are the cultic cultures tied in with the variants. On top of that, metal is always an esthetic disaster that reflects the massive compensational forces involved. Whether it’s proletarian day-to-day life compensated by airbrushed monsters or middle class weaklings dreaming up some kind of ”evil darkness” to upset mom & dad, it’s all the same: evidence of extreme existential powerlessness. Instead of making powerful music (which would require sensitivity), these frustrated wannabe-demons create formulaic distortions and genuinely believe that volume is power. But we all know it’s not.
Anyway, to each his or her own. I know very well I don’t have to listen to the rubbish. And now I know I don’t have to (or should) listen to or work with people who like any form of metal. If I ever did it again – for old times’ sake, or out of courtesy or altruistic naïveté – I am utterly convinced I would be disappointed again.
