Metalhead Diaries Part 1

“Fear of the dark.. fear of the dark..”

The guy across me in the metro softly crooned to the Iron Maiden epic playing on his earphones, completely unwary of his surroundings. He cared none for the fact that his face was contorted into one that resembled Anu Malik trying to sing a melody. He was lost in the holy metal universe. That’s how it is; we don’t care. He proceeded to play the guitar solo in the air with his fingers tracing a possible E-chord and the other hand strumming a devilish symphony. Five minutes he was flapping his arms all across the place hitting imaginary crash cymbals and the snare. But he forgot the bass drum. “Not a musician,” I assumed. Finally as I got up to leave at my station, he gave a sudden jerk of his head resembling a schizophrenic person slipping out of his other self, opened his eyes and looked around slightly embarrassed. I gathered, he missed a beat and did a headbang before the drums came on. It happens.

Usually, I am the one who sings, growls, strums and flaps his arms not caring a bit about my surroundings. But occasionally I get to be the guy on the other side of the earphones. So, I would like to tell you all about the spirit of the metalheads.

1. The Singing:
Mikael Akerfeldt starts with his angelic tone “Stay with me a while..”, prompting you to let out a pterodactyl croon across the room scaring a few of the older men. I know, most metlaheads at this point would show me a finger and say they do not give a fuck. I see your point. Well mate, in a train it’s okay but try not to growl along with Chuck Schuldiner in an elevator with your boss around. Also, if you are on a date and are as good a vocalist as a street hawker, hold back that Aerosmith song in your head. She’ll walk out, I guarantee that.

2. Air Bass:
The bass is tricky. You cannot hear it distinctly; you need talent or a trained ear to clearly identify the bass lines. That is step one. After you have mastered the art of identifying the sound, you proceed to play them in the air. The best way, if you are a guy, is to hold the left hand up in the air in a 60 deg angle and with the other hand pretend to scratch your crotch. You may also slap your thigh and do a wiggly spider like motion with your fingers near your crotch. Doing all the above in a public place with chicks around, it is sure to get you a few restraining orders if not a sexual harassment case.

3. The metalhead alter ego:
You are one of them. Your T shirt has the picture of a half eaten man holding a spear, blood art all over and a band name. You are in a gig. Where would you be found? Definitely, shoving around a horde of sweaty men struggling to find some breath. Soon you feel asphyxiated. You let out a roar as the blast beats rage on and start swirling around like a possessed man hitting whoever and whatever comes in your way. Next day in office, you are working on papers and telling people how you survived the sweaty African jungle the previous night and how you threw off fifty monkeys off your back and pounced upon a gorilla and took off your shirt. That’s the metalhead’s alter ego. The gentle son, the dutiful worker transformed into a Super Sayan breathing fire. But there’s a catch. A metalhead is not like Superman. If at work, you hear Tom Araya screaming from your shuffle playlist, you do not rip off your shirt to reveal the half eaten man shirt underneath and proceed to destroy all the computers and proclaim anarchy. No, we are like Batman. During the day, we remain the suave salesman or the nerdy student that we pretend to be.

With this I conclude the first part of this article. The next part shall come out soon at your nearest retail store. Ask the local paan wala for more details. Cheers. He is a Slayer fan, in secret.

There is hope.