Tag Archives: Andy Segedi

Reflections of a Lifelong Metalhead

There are scores of pressing issues in our turbulent world, but that doesn’t mean we can’t take a moment to discuss things that might seem superfluous. For instance, heavy metal. If you grew up in the late 1980s like I did, you encountered a certain tribe of people wearing torn faded jeans and black band t-shirts who either listened to operatic bands like W.A.S.P. or truly heavy bands like Slayer. Whether it’s the Reagan era or the Trump era, death metal or grindcore, metalheads’ passion has remained undiluted across the decades, even as the music evolves. For many people, all these metal subgenres are confusing and repellent. To fans, they’re exactly the strong medicine that’s needed to get through tough times.

At March Shredness, part of an annual, themed music project, Andy Segedi looks back at his youth as a headbanger. Examining metal’s history and intertwined subgenres, Segedi reflects on what drew him to loud, dark music in the first place, looks at how the debt serious metal owes to lame “hair metal,” and makes a case for all metal.
It’s my opinion that, if you’re one of those people who maybe looks at the dark side of things, has what proudly normal people might consider a socially unacceptable sense of humor, and whose favorite songs tend to be in minor keys, then listening to Sabbath or any of the myriad styles and crossover genres it inspired is an ideal way to safely release (not cause) the accumulated angst and frustration that comes from living in this increasingly self-destructing world.
Best of all, by celebrating the broad metal category, Segedi goes beyond it: even if you don’t like Sabbath or Pantera, loving music is always essential, and bonding with strangers over your chosen tunes is one of the most powerful, joyous aspects of the human experience. Even if it involves a flaming pentagram.

A person’s discovery of music of any kind is a journey, and while for some pop music fads these journeys are relatively brief and uncomplicated (see: disco; fuck: disco), metal is not. It’s been around for almost 50 years now, its mainstream popularity fluctuating like a sine wave but never quite disappearing, just slinking away into the stygian underground to mutate as new hybrid sub-genres and styles emerge. After 50 years of this, things get messy. So unless you were lucky enough to be there at the beginning, your discovery of metal and its offshoots is bound to be just as non-linear and complicated as a particular sub-genre’s influences. Complicated, but still traceable for those who are more forensically inclined, as metal scholar Fenriz of Norwegian black metal pioneers Darkthrone shows in this earnest reconstruction of that particular genre’s lineage.

This complexity might be one reason why metal shows are so… friendly. There’s a sense of community, of comfort and relief in the air. Here, many fans whose backwards employers don’t allow them to wear rock shirts, or display piercings, or grow their hair, or otherwise express themselves in the Holy Workplace are finally among their own kind. Everyone’s there for the same reason, but they each got there a different way, and therefore offer new perspectives on the genre. While waiting in the beer line, complete strangers compare notes on whatever bands they’re repping on our t-shirts. I’m sure this happens at other types of shows, too, but it always happens at metal shows (and I’ve been to more than a few “other” shows where nobody talked to anyone outside their social circles). Anyway, these beer-line conversations almost always include “Dude, if you like [Band A], you’ve got to check out [Band B]” moments, which often lead to momentous discoveries. And momentous metal discoveries are important to explorers like me.

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