Deciding what is important and what you value is shaped by those around you. At least to a certain extent. From a young age you quickly learn what "cool" is. Sometimes you do all you can do grab onto it and the rest of the time you do what you can to punch it in the face.
Taking movies or music seriously as art or something with a message is difficult. If your neighbor doesn't know about it, then it has value and carries weight with people interested in staying ahead of the curve. The older I get I learn that finding value in what moves you is more daring than conforming to what is easy or what is difficult. Someone who likes Brittney Spears because they like pop music gets more respect from me as opposed to someone who likes Fleet Foxes or MGMT because they're supposed to.
Why all the exposition? Every few years I decide it's a good idea to dust off the Metallica albums I own, which is all of them. This band came in and out of my life at various times. Angst riddled teen (twice), curious pre-teen, college student, mid-twenties with an insta-family guy, and approaching thirty year old dude.
When you have a group as commercially successful as Metallica is, it's hard to take anything they do and make it believable. It's like saying the Yankees have heart and are scrappy. They get paid too much. Art doesn't come from guys with a zillion dollars in the bank. Or does it?
I'm always mystified by the rise of Metallica. At least now I am. When I was 14 I just loved what the music did to me. It tickled the bone in my body that wanted to break stuff. For a kid whose parent's marriage was a ticking time bomb, it was the perfect soundtrack to the dimise of childhood innocence.
Like any good current or former metal head, I'd say Metallica's albums from the 80's are my favorites. But I'd be remiss not to mention post "Black Album" efforts from the band are interesting in their scope and ability to branch out. I can respect a band for not beating a gimmick to death and doing something new at the risk of alienating the masses.
Maybe it's because of their new Guitar Hero game taking me back. I don't play the real guitar much anymore, and it reminds me of when I did, and when I was good at it. Really good. I'm not going as far as to say I'm trying to recapture my youth, because that would mean I'm admitting it's gone.
Having parents who went out when I was nine or ten meant being babysat my the girls in my neighborhood who ranged from 12 to 16 years old. This also meant there were no limits on what I could watch on television. Not that I paid any mind to the no MTV clause in my childhood contract with my Mom, who insisted it would rot my brain. You can imagine impressionable youths having their minds warped while watching videos like this.
I still love the video. Completely unlike everything on MTV, which I was actually getting bored with at the age of nine. Pretty funny and a sign of things to come.
I knew what I was watching. The radio station I fell asleep to every night had a Top 9 at nine countdown, and despite mainstream success being a few years away for this band, it was number one night after night when "...And Justice For All" was released. The video hooked me, even though I didn't really know it yet. All the older guys in my neighborhood listened to this stuff and being cool kept you from being harassed and mildly accosted.
I posted the picture above of Metallica because it's the first image I remember and was connected to. Pre-big time success and still out there on the edge which scared your parents. Remember recording tapes from your friends? I do, and my first Metallica tape came while I was still at Cleveland Elementary School. It was a mix of "Justice" and "Master of Puppets." The music was scary and dark for a kid who probably should have been listening to Roxette or Micheal Jackson. The first song on my tape, which I snuck past my parents until I got the actual CD for Christmas in 7th grade, was "Blackened" where one of the famous lines is as follows.
"See your mother put to death, see your mother die."
Pretty heavy for a fourth grader. Guns 'n Roses was probably as close as I got to something this dark. Knowing now lead singer James Hetfield was writing about his mom dying from cancer and not being able to do anything about it because of her Christian Scientist faith puts some context I probably could have used at the time. It scared the crap out of me and interested me all at the same time. I was confused by it and yet couldn't put it down.
I'm not sure what this says about me, or why I still go back to it occasionally with a fervor while all my friends listen to God knows what, modern country like Toby Keith or some bullshit like that. Maybe because even though being married and living on a cul-de-sac in suburbia makes for a comfortable life, I'm still sometimes uncomfortable waiving to neighbors as I grab the newspaper off my driveway. I can talk to them, but I'm never comfortable.
Maybe I don't want to give all of me away just quite yet. I've left a lot behind, most of it for the better, but I still hang on in certain ways. And if that means putting "Ride the Lightning" on in the car when I'm carting people around who would rather listen to Chris Daughtry or Keith Urban, which by the way helps me sleep at night, then so be it.
No comments:
Post a Comment