METAL DAYS RE- RE-revisited, Part 2 of 3.

The following is Part 2 in the three-part series examining the golden age of metal. The PMRC says parental guidance is suggested while reading. (Part 1 here)

In 1987 I came to the realization that the majority of my Hair Metal heroes were in fact nothing more than posers in tights and make-up that Tammy Faye Bakker would consider tacky. I was devastated. I had put a lot of stock in my hard rockin’ image. My mullet was just right, but now there was a very real possibility I would have to give myself a new identity. I could no longer be affiliated with these cock-knocker rockers. But I wasn’t about to get a hair cut.

I had to consult with my METAL mentor, the one dude in Jr. High whose mullet was longer than mine. This guy had more black t-shirts than I did, his amp was louder than mine, and he actually knew how to play his guitar! He appeared as though he might actually have a criminal record, which was a major source of respect to me in those days. To protect his identity – because I think now he’s actually in law enforcement instead of into breaking the law – we’ll call the dude Axel. I couldn’t approach Axel in the halls because he was an upperclassmen and his people would break me, or at least I thought they would at the time. So I decided to get detention, on purpose, to approach him and ask about the state of the METAL.

ME: Sup, dude?
AXEL: (sarcastic tone) Nice Cinderella shirt. Dude, those guys are posers, dude.
ME: Yeah, I know, dude. Only clean shirt I had. You know, cause I’ve been partying every day so much lately, not to mention rockin’ all night.
AXEL: I only listen to thrash metal now, dude.
ME: Yeah. Me too, dude. Thrash metal, it’s all about the thrash metal now. Uh … who would you say specifically you are thrashing out the most to now a days?
AXEL: You know, Anthrax, Megadeth, Slayer and OF COURSE Metallica, dude.
ME: Oh yeah! Metallica rules, dude!

So, needless to say, I had to go out and get myself a Metallica tape*. I had avoided purchasing Metallica or thrash metal tapes in general up until this point, not because I didn’t enjoy the hardness with which they rocked, but because the lingering guilt of my Southern Babdiss upbringing made me worry about Satan. The bible thumpers always listed Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne among the most evil ones in Heavy Metal. And rocking out to them would surely cause you to rock your way straight to Hell. But these were desperate times; I decided to give them a listen at risk to my eternal soul.

As a side note I also tried listening to the Christian rockers, Stryper one time. Even going as far as purchasing their album To Hell with the Devil. I soon discovered what Hank Hill would sum up nicely many years later, “Christian rock doesn’t make God any cooler, it just makes rock lamer.”

So, I wanted to get my hands on a Metallica tape, but I didn’t want to shell out the $10 for a cassette of a band I hadn’t listened to yet. I had been burned before with Dokken (jeez, they were AWFUL). There’s $9.99 I will never get back. My folks were pretty well off, but I didn’t just get cassette tapes produced by possibly satanic rock bands whenever I asked for them. Those gifts were reserved for special occasions… like Christmas. Being that Christmas and my birthday were months away, I had to go with plan b.

You see, in the 80’s we had a pretty low-tech version of file sharing. It was called “dubbing.” A boom box with two tape recording decks could get you a copy of your buddy’s tapes and vice-versa. It’s kind of funny how people were already ripping off Metallica’s shit years before Metallica drummer, Lars Ulrich, threw such a hissy fit about the whole Napster thing. No wonder that dude is so pissed.

What I ended up getting through the metal head’s tape sharing community was a dub, of a dub, of a dub of a version of one Metallica song, For Whom the Bell Tolls, recorded off the radio. I know this because the DJ came in before the song ended. I give props to whoever recorded the original. You had to stay up pretty late on a weeknight to hear Metallica on the classic rock radio station out of Memphis.

Now before Lars sics the Metal Militia’s law force on me, it should be known that I legally purchased Ride the Lightening in its entirety once on tape and again on CD. It should also be noted that I legally purchased the entire Metallica catalog up until and including The Black Album (before you guys got lame).


When I brought the tape home from school that night, I was excited, but nervous. The only thing I knew about Metallica was what I read in my Metal magazines. The band was taking a break from recording after the death of their bassist, Cliff Burton. I also heard from the Bible thumpers that they and Ozzy Osbourne were Devil worshipers and if you listened to their songs backwards it would cause you to do evil stuff like sacrifice your cat to Satan by putting lipstick on its ass and throwing it in the deep fryer. Not being that attached to my cat, I decided to proceed.

I pressed play on my boom box … the usual 4 to 5 seconds of wind tunnel sound came on … then the bells … the same as AC/DC’s Hells Bells, except somehow more creepy … then one short, loud METAL guitar riff, that was louder and more rockin’ than any I have heard before or since. These dudes accomplished in three chords more METAL than any of the douche-nozzle hair bands in my tape collection

Immediately following the aggressive guitar blast, was a high octave, noodling bass riff, played from beyond the grave by Cliff Burton himself, that sounded like a cross between the few notes from the into of the Twilight Zone and the theme from the Halloween movies.

Then the guitar riff, then the bass riff again… this pattern repeated … drums kicked in … the church bells clanged in time … then a heavy note crunching of guitar, bass, and drums, the likes of which I had never heard in all my METAL days. Head was bangin’, horns were flashing. I was hooked, even before James Hetfield had belted out the words “Make us fight on the hill in the early day …”

I ceremoniously ripped down the poster above my bed of the glammed-out Motley Crue in their Theatre of Pain get ups. In its place I put up a poster of Metallica from my most recent Metal magazine purchase. I had seen through the bullshit. No longer was I going to adorn the walls in my room with posters of dudes that looked like chicks in make up and hair spray. From now on I would adorn the walls in my room with posters of dudes that looked like ugly chicks without make up and hair spray.

Good bye, panty waste sissy rock. Hello Ass-kicking, heavy METAL! Rockin’ would be my business … and business would be good.

*Short for cassette tape, common medium for listening to music in the mid to late 1980’s