MetalHead

Metal. Just saying the word can make you feel like you've bitten down on something hard. To the outside observer, it’s rough, dark, and possibly a bit too wild for kids under twelve. Think black leather jackets, chains, long hair, and a vibe that screams ‘just stepped out of a Viking epic.’ Sure, there are tattoos and lots of them. But let's be real: these days, even the babysitter down the block probably has ink. Metalheads sported tattoos back when they still meant your mom would worry and your boss wouldn’t let you manage the front desk.

People see the leather, the spikes, and the ripped denim jackets plastered with patches, but that’s just the surface. Beneath all that tough exterior is a heart so big it could wrap around your entire mosh pit, though we refrain from doing that because, you know, it’s not exactly “metal.” Or maybe we would, if the band happens to be playing a heartfelt ballad.

Metal is more than just music; it’s a way of life. A calling, really. It’s like a religion, but without any sacred texts, just some holy riffs instead. It’s therapy cranked up to 200 decibels. While others might seek help from a therapist, we find solace in guitar solos that stretch longer than your average pop hit.

The mosh pit? It’s a captivating spectacle that, to an outsider, resembles a human blender. But within it, there are unwritten rules that everyone seems to know: if someone goes down, you help them up. If you catch an elbow, you dish one back, but with affection. Yes, affection. The kind that won’t be found in romantic comedies, but you certainly feel it when you’re belting out lyrics beside a stranger during a killer breakdown.

And let’s not forget about the reputation. For decades, metal has been branded as dangerous, aggressive, and antisocial. Ironically, many metalheads today are upstanding citizens. We clock in at offices, dress neatly for work, and dutifully pick up our kids from school. But when night falls and the stage lights flicker to life, we revert to our true selves: headbanging, beers in hand, belting out lyrics that would leave your grandmother in shock. And yes, some call our music “noise.” That’s okay. We think your radio is full of noise too, just that ours doesn’t rely on autotune. Our guitars wail, our drums thump, and our voices sound like we’ve swallowed a handful of gravel, and that’s precisely how we like it.

Stay loud, stay true, and embrace that blend of tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Because behind the heaviest riffs, there are the most genuine hearts. And beneath all that black attire lies more color than anyone could ever grasp. 🤘