At 2:00am I had to go to the bathroom so I got out of bed. The bathroom light was already on and standing inside was my brother, casting a dreary brown gaze into the mirror, razorblade in hand, slicing off chunks of long bristly hairs from under his chin. Earlier in the night, during dinner, Mom and Dad had appraised his unkempt look.
“You’re not helping your chances.” Dad said.
“Why do you keep it?” Mom asked. My brother hadn’t shaved since he moved back in. Striding past him across the hall and down the stairs I could hear the fragile knocking of rain atop the roof and against the windows. Before I stepped into the downstairs bathroom I flicked on the floodlight out back to take a look. It must have been coming down for a while because I could see two small puddles that had pooled themselves in a little depression on the far side of our yard. In their reflections I caught glimpses of the woods that lay past our home. The leaves were gone now. It was getting cold. All there was to see were barren brown branches and ashen tree trunks. Those puddles looked so trapped and dreary all wadded-down in that little depression.
“Don’t worry little puddles, It’s not gunna rain forever. Things’ll dry up.” After I finished in the bathroom I walked back up the stairs and past my brother again. This time he had his beard trimmed down and there was shaving cream over his face and around his lips and he was making short choppy strokes at his cheeks with a disposable razor. I stopped in the doorway for only a moment. I wasn't used to him again. His petrified self-stare: a pillar of salt.
By morning the rain had stopped and as my parents and I were leaving for work we could hear my brother in his bedroom getting ready for his interview.
“Did you shave?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.” My parents smiled at each other.
“Good luck!” Mom wished as she stepped out with Dad. I reached for my keys from the counter and my brother came out of his room. He had cuff-linked his wrists, had a tie wrapped around his neck, and was sporting a terribly fuzzy mustache that crawled over his lip. I gave him a smirk as I grabbed my keys and he lilted his eyebrows at me like he used to do when we were younger, before he moved away. He almost looked happy. I walked out to my car and as I pulled away I wondered if those sad little puddles had any chance to escape, before they froze.
I'm continuing my series on metal music. My first post of the series was a flushed-out introduction to melodeath metal. This one will be an impulsive quickie-post which I may or may not elaborate upon later. The reason why is because it is not so much a primer on a sub-genre of metal as much as it is highlighting a subject that is influencing metal music, arguably much more so than in any other genre of music - Environmentalism.
Say what? Michael, you seriously mean to tell me that the same genre of music known lyrically for brutishly admonishing the worst traits of human nature and exhorting the impending rapturous apocalypse is down with treehugging? Well, yes, Reader. Exactly that. Hear me out, because it is actually quite a perfect fit.
Metal music is known for being angry, cynical, and critical; particularly of humans - those deceitful, destructive, devious, diabolical humans. Another popular subject matter in metal music is death and destruction. Apocalypse, fire and brimstone, all that jazz. What better avenue for metal music than to channel that spite and malice towards those irresponsibly contributing to the environmental degradation and eventual destruction of our hospitable planet?
Well, it's not just a perfect hypothetical. Environmentalism is already a focus for a lot of metal outfits. Here are some good examples:
Tool is known for having cryptic lyrics, but this one is not too hard to interpret. Global warming raising sea-levels, washing the earth clean of the human scourge. A more apocalyptic take. Learn to swim -
No interpreting here, Testament is straight-in-your-face with this thrashing anti-ballad. Simple ultimatum proposed: Take a stand, or Environmental Holocaust -
Global Warming, Ocean Planet, and Toxic Garbage Island are the names of just three songs from French metal outfit Gojira. If any metal band could be considered an "environ-metal band" Gojira would be it. Environmentalism has been THE dominant concept of their albums and driving influence of their music. I really am quite enamored with Gojira at the moment. I don't know if it is their unwavering passion for their subject, their unique stylistic blending of progressive metal, groove metal, and technical death metal, frequent incorporation of atmospheric sounds and instrumentation, or their uncommon song structures and rhythm patterns. I think it's all of those things. Here is a beautiful and accessible (for those not accustomed to Gojira's more avant-garde style) song from their album From Mars To Sirius. Lyrically it is more magical, mysterious, and ambiguous and it ends with potential hopefulness rather than pessimism - something the first two examples from Tool and Testament did not -
I Hope you liked this installment. So the next time you hear a metal song with guitars riffing, drums kicking, and lungs screaming, you can think about how much they probably care about recycling.
We had a zucchini bake-off on the farm on Sunday. Prior to the event I told everyone I was going to make something unorthodox. I did. The inspiration came from my childhood. I ate corn dogs growing up. I ATE corn dogs growing up. Hella. I had a lot of fun making the Dogz (the z is for zucchini) and watching Wes try to restrain from eating them all. I didn't win but Wes' approval was more than enough consolation. Needless to say, the vegetarians didn't like my dogz quite as much. Katherine won and she deserved it. Her Zuc cakes with Phil zauce were awesome - in taste, complexity, and appearance - and she hustled votes like a true victor. Her double-zucchini traffic-controlling needed some work however.
Farmer Michael's Zucchini Batter Corn Dogs
For deep frying
1 qt peanut oil
Dry ingredients
1 c all purpose flour
1 c yellow corn meal
¼ c white sugar
2 ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp cayenne pepper or hot sauce
Mini picture for
mini dogz
A few grinds of black pepper
Wet ingredients
1 ¼ c of buttermilk
1 FCF egg
1 c grated large FCF zucchini
Meat
2 lbs dogs (cut in half for minis)
BBQ skewers (cut in half for minis – cut side not in dog)
-Bring oil to medium heat, ~375
-Combine dry ingredients in a bowl
-Ad the wet ingredients and mix
-Dry off dogs with paper towel before coating them in batter so the batter sticks
-Insert wooden sticks into the dogs, dip into batter and shake off excess
In this multipart series I’m going to shed light upon some of the more well-established sub-genres of metal, as well as share with you my favorite metal acts within them. You may be surprised by the diversity in tempo, song structure, vocal style, and instrumentation within the metal genre, and hell, you may even come to discover that you too like metal!
I like metal.
Not that kind of metal.
No, those are medals.
Those are no good, meddling kids. I certainly don’t like no good, meddling kids.
Limp Bizkit
Gwar
Fucking Ridiculous
Enya
Err…Well…Hmph. At least now we are finally in the musical realm, but I said I like metal, not shit. Kidding aside, I understand your misconstruction, Imaginary Reader Who Enables Me To Write In Second-Person Narrative (I’ll just call you Irwem for short). Metal is a very broad, expansive genre Irwem, but also one that receives relatively little recognition and even less appreciation from the general public (at least here in the states). This is not your fault. It is mostly an issue of exposure. It is rare for you to hear metal in everyday life; It is not played on the radio, in TV adverts, movie soundtracks, hotel lobbies, diners (Enya is played in diners), etc. If you are exposed to metal, it is probably because the douche-bag with truck nuts on his Dodge Ram is blaring Nu-metal (shit) with his windows down at the intersection you’re stopped at (and now you’re regretting that you didn’t run the yellow). So I understand why you may have a general aversion to metal. But if you are thinking, “You know what Michael, I honestly can’t say that I have actively explored this deep, complex, and powerful genre of music before,” Then I’d say to you, “Irwem, turn up your speakers and show me your mettle! Let’s delve in deep and explore some metal!”
Melodic Death Metal/Melodeath Metal/The Gothenburg Sound
Melodic death metal or melodeath metal is a subgenre of death metal that emerged in Europe in the early 1990’s. The style rose to prominence in Scandinavia with Gothenberg, Sweden acting as the epicenter of the musical scene. In fact, Gothenburg was such a hub for this style of death metal that before it was classified as melodic death metal, it was referred to as “The Gothenburg Sound” or “Gothenburg Metal”.
In Gothenburg, the North Sea is so cold
women wear Uggs to the beach.
Although I don’t listen to as much melodeath metal as I used to, I still hold a special place for it in my cold, dark, metal-loving heart because melodeath was the first and only sub-genre I enjoyed when I started exploring metal. And by exploring metal I mean accidentally stumbling upon it. I will never forget the level of peculiar wonder I felt when my Pandora player inexplicably cued Dark Tranquility’s “Lost to Apathy”. What was this ruckus, I thought? I didn’t know metal could sound like that. It was unique, intense, yet complex and subtly beautiful. I was piqued. I had to hear more. From there I found fellow Swedish acts; In Flames, Arch Enemy, and Soilwork. Eventually my audial lust exceeded the corporeal bounds of "The Gothenburg Sound", but I could never forget or abandon my first metallic love. You do understand how it is with first loves Irwem, don't you?
Is this music or math?
Melodic death metal distinguishes itself from traditional death metal in that – you guessed it – it is more melodic in nature. Some of its more melodic characteristics include the use of guitar harmonics and melodies over the heavy guitar riffs of traditional death metal, the occasional use of acoustic guitars and keyboard, and the interspersion of cleanly sung vocals among higher-pitched screamed or growled vocals as opposed to exclusive use of low-pitched growls found in traditional death metal. The melodic nature often makes melodeath metal more accessible and appealing to those not as accustomed to the dissonant, heavy sounds of traditional death metal. It worked on me. I hope you give it a chance. Who knows, maybe you’ll find it interesting too. Or even like it!
“Lost to Apathy” by Dark Tranquility. This was my first ever exposure to death metal. To be fair, I didn’t like it right away. Because I couldn’t wrap my head around it! I was not conditioned to handle sounds like that. But it blew my mind and I was intrigued by it. I wanted more intriguing of said blown mind.
“Reroute to Remain” by In Flames. Another Swedish progenitor of melodeath metal, In Flames has a classic, melodic, “Gothenburg” sound. This track is a good example of the mix between sung, screamed, and growled lyrics, as well as melodic guitar work.
"My Apocalypse" by Arch Enemy. Arch Enemy doesn't utilize clean vocals but I think their guitar work and bridges are classic melodic death metal and their lead singer is a super cool badass (i.e. hot). “My Apocalypse” is really heavy. Straight-up, it's demon-worshiping music. The bridge at 1:56 is awesome.
More Angela Gassow:
Look so pretty, sound so scary.
Badass.
“They Will Return” by Kalmah. Hailing from Finland, Kalmah blends melodeath and power metal. Fast tempo and blazing guitar work is the name of the game here.
So Irwem, I hope you found this post and the sounds contained in it somewhat interesting. I love when people share new things with me, and it sounds like you are not too familiar with metal, so I hope I got to share a new experience with you. Let me know what you thought, or if you actually liked any of it!
Coming in future installments of Show Me Your Mettle:
Waiting at airports is nice. When you’re not pressed for time, or in a hurry, or in a worry, you can appreciate the experience. I’m at the airport because I’m about to see some of the most important people in my life. It shows in my face—with wide wandering eyes and flashes of irrepressible open-mouthed smiles. I don’t know what brings everyone else to the airport, but it’s fun to look and see if they wear the experience on their faces too.
Saw this man at the airport.
Judging by his face, I can tell you that
his airport experience is tiring.
And that he's Tom Hanks.
I have a confession to make. I kill (present tense). I actively kill on a regular basis.
Oh, shit! Michael is a fucking psychopath.
Recently I have been doing it more and more. It is important to kill.
What the fuck. Michael is insane. It’s the death metal, isn’t it!? All that death metal has finally made Michael go fucking insane.
I will continue to kill.
Oh Dear God.
Because life is not possible without death. The more life I end, the more life I can pass on. As a farmer I honor this earthly consecration. I am the agent of this sacred passage. Life flows through me.
*Mind Blown and/or Whaaaa?*
Recently I started sharing the responsibility of trapping squirrels on the farm. Squirrels are the farm’s #1 pest (that is, the worst). They are capable of bringing nightmarish devastation upon entire rows of lettuce, beets, and squash, even before the last plants have been tucked into bed. Our crops are catalysts for life—all forms of life: Humans, squirrels, insects, mold, bacteria, viruses, and sometimes even chickens. If us humans don’t eat 'em, some other life form will.
If Death looks like this, she can
visit me any time she wants
The day the first farmer stopped hunting and gathering and planted a seed, the contest with Mother Nature began. This thing called agriculture doesn’t mean we’ve won, it just means were getting away with bending the rules. But even if we aren’t playing honest, the ones that do are strong in number. To keep humanity at civilization status we have to keep our edge. We can’t be bested by squirrels.
Our rise to civilization yields a paradox. Our heightened command over Mother Nature in the form of agriculture enables specialization and modern civilization. Free of the daily toil of collecting food we learn to thrive organizationally, intellectually, and technologically. Yet in turn we struggle with a concept that is most intrinsically human: Intimate understanding of the fuel that sustains our life. Food. Our ascendancy to civilization threatens to separate us from understanding our sacred connections to the earth and the rules it mandates.
At first killing squirrels was a little troubling and even disturbing, but quickly the troubles shifted into a sense of privilege. A privilege to be connected with the undeniable reality of life: Life can not exist without death.
Michael is not an insane psychopath. He is a very nice, sane, young man who just appreciates life in a unique if not unusual way. Michael will not kill me. The only thing insane about Michael is his crazy good looks.
We’ve been together for a while now. I remember back in November when you and I were just getting started. You weren’t even a beard back then. You were actually kind of a prick. Sometimes you’d get your stubborn stubble all up in my face and I’d get so irritated that I couldn’t sleep at night. But I stuck with you. Looking back I don’t know why I did. It would have been easier to shave you away, just like every other time. But for some reason, I thought I’d give you a chance. There was potential for us. I just needed to be willing to give you the opportunity. Willing to not be afraid. Willing to let us grow together. Willing to commit to you.
I stayed with you.
When I decided to let you into my life things were immediately exciting. You caressed my finger tips when I ponderously fondled my chin, you shielded my neck when the harsh wind whipped, you tickled my lips when I smiled. But the freshness of our courtship dampened. I started to notice your patches and weak spots. I began to recognize where you grew uneven and scraggly. I remember waking up in the morning, gazing at you in the mirror, and hardly being able to recognize you. It was like you changed with each cycle of the sun. Who were you? What was I doing with you?
Why does my beard look so different every day?
And why do I have such a hard time
looking directly into the camera?
Why was I still with you? Did I keep you around just to hide behind my insecurities--you veiled my shallow jawline? Did I stay with you because of laziness--you didn’t make me shave every morning? Did I only like you because you made me feel special and unique--like a megalodon among a vast sea of baby-faced manlings? I questioned you. But when I doubted you, you never doubted me. You stayed with me. When I ate messy sopes and spilled salsa and hot sauce all over you, you never once complained. You stayed with me. When I trimmed your ‘ol pal Mustache you didn’t protest or try to dissuade me. You simply stayed with me. When I scratched and clawed you with my cracked hands and stubby, dirty fingernails you never once fussed.
You stayed with me.
You didn’t doubt me, complain, protest, or fuss because just as I committed to you, you committed to me. And for that, I love you.
