The end of the metal?
I listen to heavy metal a lot less frequently than I used to, and it’s mostly because of my son. I watch him during the day while my wife’s at work, and I like to have music playing in the background. Needless to say, metal is not on the playlists. Classic rock, classical music, and jazz dominate our days musically. As much as I love the heaviness of sound that metal provides, a toddler does not need to be raised on that kind of music. So less metal for Daddy, too.
As a result, over the last two years I’ve seen a decline in my desire for metal. I’ve had the chance to go to a few concerts but passed them up. I haven’t been as diligent about purchasing new albums from my favorite bands. Have I reached my limit? Did my mercury levels reach their peak? Are my ears finally relieved?
When I first started dating my wife back in 2008(!), I went crazy with my metal consumption. I blasted it on every road trip. I went to as many concerts as I could afford. It was a liberating, exhilarating explosion of sound that I reveled in for years and years. Much to the chagrin of most everyone around me, I tried to share my love of heavy metal. Most of my friends plugged their ears. A few “got it” and joined me in my years-long revelry. While we didn’t live a heavy metal lifestyle, the music spoke to us.
So perhaps I’ve reached my limit. Maybe the metal forge in my soul needs to go dark for a little while so the fires can ignite anew some time in the future.
But I do have a plan. If my son comes to love heavy metal when he gets older, I’m going to pretend that I disapprove of it. It will seem cooler to him and he’ll blast metal in “rebellion” of me. Mwa ha ha.