Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward. Whoever cannot take care of himself without that law is both. For a wounded man shall say to his assailant, "If I live, I will kill you. If I die, you are forgiven." Such is the rule of honor.
If you don't already know what this is from, click here and enjoy:
http://youtu.be/vJu7fhdVMb8
If you do know, click it and enjoy it anyway :)
.... word of WARNING, though: If you are at school or work and you're not supposed to be surfing the internet, you may want to make sure the volume is down. Otherwise, BLAST IT
A few years ago I was bassist in two (count 'em, TWO!) metal bands.
Granted, they were more or less the same band minus our vocalist (due to marriage) and one guitarist (he "wasn't contributing"). We found a replacement vocalist and added a few guitar players and, thus, a new band was born.
Being in these bands was without a doubt one of the coolest experiences I've ever had and gave me the opportunity to do crazy, incredible things and meet absolutely awesome people.
Last night I got out my bass and played a while and all sorts of memories came flooding back to me. I thought about it off and on all day today and I wanted to share the memories and lessons with you guys!
Yes, they're mostly for fun but every lesson rings true to me.
If the cops show up, you're playing just loud enough.
Over the years and countless practices, we had the cops called on us many, many times. This varied on our moods, where we were, what time it was, and if we had our vocalist rehearsing. For whatever reason, the irate neighbors seemed to specifically dislike our screaming vocals. We met many members of the Raton Police Department and the kind of reactions we got from them varied. Many were irritated, broke up the practice immediately and left us with threats and warnings. A few actually listened to us play for a couple minutes, asked us friendly questions and left us with the request that we keep it down. It probably goes without saying that the latter kind made a better impression but, to be honest, either way we waited for them to leave, then went right on playing where we left off.
The best instrument is the one in your hands.
We all lusted after the expensive, kick-ass, brand name, musician-endorsed instruments, absolutely! Alexi Laiho's electric guitars were always much admired and I personally had my eyes on Tom Araya's ESP basses. But nothing can beat the actual bass or drum set or guitar you have your hands on, one that you have and can play and love and have all sorts of memories associated with. I think your first instrument is kinda like your first love: you spend all this time with it and thinking about it and even if and when you grow out of it, I think you'll always remember it.
Good friends share memories. Good band mates share amps.
And I was lucky enough to have both! Years later, a lot of us have grown apart but I still value the memories really highly and I think some bonds will never be totally broken. I especially treasure the memories I have of Johnny Ray. If not for the band, I might never have known him well and I would have really missed out.
To be honest, yes, image is part of it.
We all wore a lot of black band T-shirts, several of the guys had pretty long hair, I always had my hair dyed crazy colors and for about a year I wore only bondage pants.
I always felt pretty honored that they all let me be in the band, because metal is pretty heavily male-dominated. I wasn't the best bass player around but they were always really patient with me and helped me learn a lot.
Good metal lyrics are deep and have fancy words. And profanity.
I remember taking a stab at writing lyrics. I came up with what I thought was a pretty good song and called one of the guys in the band and read it to him. He was quiet for a moment, and seemed to be searching for a nice way to put his opinion. He finally said, "It's, um, good, but, uh, it sounds more like an... uhh.. Evanescence song or something." I probably don't have to tell you this was not a good thing for a hard-core metal band.
We did have a good lyric writer in our band. He came up with these deep, meaningful lyrics with lots of advanced, complicated words. To be honest, I read them, complimented him, then went home and looked up half the words in the dictionary.
As for the profanity, fuck yeah! No shit! Why the hell wouldn't you put fucking profanity in every goddamn syllable? It emphasizes your every fucking point, bitch!
Hahaha, no but seriously. Profanity does give a desirable sort of edge.
The sign of a good musician is one who can play his instrument and headbang at the same time.
I still feel this is true. To be honest with you, I can play, and I can headbang, but not that well at the same time. It was a talent that I aspired to, but lacked. Once we were playing a show and I was head banging like crazy and I almost fell over. Luckily only one or two people saw but it was still really embarrassing.
You kinda have to have at least one or two bands you idolize.
At the time for me, these bands were Children of Bodom and Lamb of God. I sometimes read interviews with musicians and they'll talk about the albums that changed their life. I'm not a professional musician but at this time in my life two albums totally changed everything: Children of Bodom's "Hate Crew Deathroll" and Lamb of God's "Ashes of the Wake." I had these two CDs and basically lived and breathed them. I went to sleep at night with my headphones on listening to them. Every practice we'd warm up by playing the first five tracks off "Ashes of the Wake" in order. I knew every lyric and every guitar riff. I talked with my friends and bandmates about all the musicians by name and knew all their biographies. I argued with with other COB freak in my band about who could copy the band's font better.
This actually turned into a bit of controversy in the 8th grade. The aforementioned other COB freak and myself were so obsessed that we wrote "COBHC" (Children of Bodom Hate Crew") on everything: our binders, our lockers, our skin. Somehow a bunch of other kids picked it up without even knowing what it meant or stood for and for a while "COBHC" was found on EVERYTHING. Graffiti everywhere! Desks, doors, floors, marker boards, walls.
Ooops.
Johnny Ray was always in love with Pantera and to be honest, it was one thing that made his death a little easier: I have no doubt he jams with Dime now.
Behind every good metal musician is a good support system.
This was especially true at the time because we were all pretty young and had to depend on parents and older siblings to drive us around, to have places to practice, to listen to us play, etc. Also, I think behind just about every musician is a parent who is a bit of a rocker themselves.
Awesome band names are nearly impossible to come by.
The first band I was in was called "Asunder", then transformed to "Dead End Philosophy". After I left, they became "Ascending Darkness". I don't know for sure that any of these names were absolutely stellar but they served their purpose. I remember sometimes we'd be out somewhere and someone would ask what our band name was and we'd all get kinda quiet and look at each other, waiting for someone else to say it.
You don't play in a metal band because you should. You play in one because you need to.
The guys I played with lived and breathed music. It wasn't a hobby, it was a way of life. And to turn a passion into a lifestyle? I think everyone can learn from that.
COBHC, bitch!
haha
Sarah
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