Life is fucking crazy, folks. Music helps me make sense out of it all. Since I was a child and heard my first Green Day album (that would be Dookie, btw), music has played a key role in my emotional and mental development. I remember the standard for good music being set once more when I was beginning to come into my teen years and somehow got ahold of Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets and the Black album by Metallica. Now that I’ve filled my head with a thousand good bands, I listen to Fade to Black and it seems a little outdated and underproduced, but I’ll never forget the feeling of exhiliration I felt when I first listened to the first minute or so of layered acoustics and then the EXPLOSION of melodic lightning on Battery, the intro track to Master of Puppets. I used to sit and replay that song a hundred times, feeling that high that only a beautifully done piece of music can produce.
Thinking back now, I owe a lot to music—relief, resentment, love and hate, it made me feel when there was nothing in my soul to speak of, and made the sweetest moments of my existence that much sweeter. And if you have never been on a stage before, let me tell you that there is nothing more amazing than the high of moving a crowd with your music. Playing my spastic slap-bass in Death Rattle was one of the happiest times I can remember in my life. Giving it up to nurture my meth addiction was an admittedly stupid decision, but it brought me to where I am today, discovering some of the secrets that were previously hidden from me in the world. I often wonder where I would be today if I had put forth more effort in my musical career. I guess it’s never too late.
I remember the naysayers and easy listeners of my youth, and how they said that I would “outgrow” my love of heavy metal. I have expanded my horizons since the long-haired days of my young elitism, but even now, having conversations with my higher power and shaven-headed, I have never lost my like for the brutality and beautiful energy of that genre. Music, for me, is not a statement you make on the outside—you don’t achieve popularity or win over a potential boss or do well in school with music. Maybe with the help of music, but I don’t believe it to be a tool of fashion. Music, for me, is something more like spirituality—it happens most on the inside, and is deeply personal. To this day, Cemetery Gates by Pantera or Everlong by the Foo Fighters can pull a tear from my eye under the right circumstances. Some music is so beautiful that it is impossible for me to manage a clear thought while in its presence. I am eternally grateful for its role in my life. It is the soundtrack to my existence.
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