Violation: Misplaced Concert Enthusiasm

Once again, TNM descends into that deep dark abyss known simply as the heavy metal show. What a horrible place.

Events such as these are a mass breeding ground for the socially retarded and mega awkward. Individuals, who's thirst for raw brutality and unbridled riffage is only rivaled by their complete inability to maintain eye contact during conversation. I'm sorry, I take back the breeding ground bit. None of you poseurs are having any fucking sex.

You're all a bunch of mumbly dorks who have never quite deconstructed the proper way to engage with other people, much to your own dismay. In your frustration, you have immersed yourselves in the counterculture of Heavy Metal as a means to put up an abrasive front to others. You think that if you look and act like you don't want people to approach you, that you can convince everybody -- and more importantly yourself -- that your lack of good friends and connections with others is on purpose. You think there's just no way that you could possibly be so inept at interacting with others... these normal people just don't appreciate the badassery of your redundant wrist wear, skull tattoos, chain wallet, gurgly vocals blaring from your car stereo, and t-shirt with an eviscerated woman on it; right? The honest hard truth is that you're an insecure pillow soft puss bitch with wittle marshmallow feelings that your pathetic, feeble self doesn't want to get hurt. You and everybody around you can smell your repugnant, foul. unwashed loneliness underneath all that tough metal guy bullshit from a block away. Fuck you, liar. You dishonest, frail piece of subhuman shit.

That doesn't have very much to do with what I'm talking about today. I just thought someone should remind you why you're depressed. 

Fear not nerds! True metal's undisputed lord and master is here to right you of your wrongs and cleanse you of your heavy metal sins as well as your social ones. Yes, we may all be a bunch of clinically depressed shut-ins suffering from untreated social anxiety, but come time for a heavy metal performance, we all must unavoidably get together and look at each other in our ugly faces. We need to accept that we're humans, there's a lot of us in that place, and as such, we need to figure out how to carry ourselves accordingly. This isn't fucking Comic-Con, you spergs. So how about you get your shit together and stop acting like such a bunch of graceless dweebs? Otherwise just stay home and be a blogger. 

The poseury mongrels that we speak of today are incredibly common among a heavy metal audience. I can guarantee you just about every metal show has at least one of these philistines ruining the show for the rest of us. I speak of course about that headbanging guy. No, no, I'm not talking about those headbanging guys. I'm talking about that headbanging guy.

Yeah, that one, way over there.

You see him? I know, I almost missed him there too. What the hell is he doing over there? Doesn't he realize that's the line for the fucking bathroom? 

"We were just over here in the back talking Gorguts, now all I can smell is this turd's dandruff shampoo. Someone tell him it's not working."

There's a countless number of things you can do at a concert to make yourself look like a puerile turd, but nothing takes the cake quite like misplaced concert enthusiasm. If you are someone who properly observes concert etiquette, or at least someone with common sense, then you easily recognize that the greater enthusiasm you display as a concert patron should be in direct correlation with how close in proximity you are to the performing act. Obviously. Right? I shouldn't have to explain to anybody that the more you give a shit about the band playing, the closer you're gonna be, or at least try to be to the stage. And yet, here we are. I'm writing this fucking article because I just had to go to one more show, and get a load of one more of these clueless tart monkeys losing every ounce of their shit directly next to a group of people who very clearly don't give much of one.

There's a lot of talk about how old I am from the people that don't like me. To some people, I'm a 15-year-old virgin who couldn't possibly be mature enough to realize metal music isn't this important. To other people, I'm a 50-year old virgin who's too much of a stubborn curmudgeon to accept "the Periphery bands" I look up on "the AOL" don't sound like "the Iron Maiden". In all honesty, I'm just about thirty. (Ask your mom if I'm a virgin.) While this sadly means my freckled face was too deeply buried in Metal Gear Solid at the time to realize Chuck Schuldiner got diagnosed with brain cancer, it also means that now my knees, back and ears aren't exactly what they used to be. I at least have to take this nasty body to a job so I can pay rent, so I can't afford to smash it up with a bunch of pushy teenagers, or underemployed grown ups who drink copious amounts without shame. My moshing days are all but over. I fucking hate crowded spaces and I fucking hate fun:

That wasn't the case when I first started this blog. All these shitlords flinging their hair in all the wrongest of places is a relatively new phenomena for me, so that's why you're only hearing about it now. I used to always be an upfronter whenever possible. I wanted all the best metal bands to know who was their best fan and buddy whenever they came to Boston. However, for the last few years I've slowly relinquished my spot by the guard rail to someone who still cares enough to have it. I've been put out to pasture in the way that older metal fans do, by being eternally banished to "The Back".

It sounds tragic, yes, but I enjoy myself at metal shows more now than I ever did as the dumb kid wrestling his way to the front and screaming myself hoarse. Standing in The Back is by far, the superior concert experience. You can meet like-minded people if you want, hang out and talk to the opening acts at merch tables. Get a drink, maybe even -- holy shit -- talk to a female. It's actually something like a nice time out. I'm finding that the living, breathing metal scene at its pulse, exists within the older, cooler, calmer men and women observing the show from the back/bar area safely out of the moshers' sweaty, clammy reach.

Every ADHD suffering vocalist that ever screeched "I wanna see EVERYBODY, even you motherfuckers standing in the BACK fucking MOVE AROUND" should be chemically castrated with bleach. Shut the fuck up. This isn't a dance club, DJ Aoki, so perform your designated 15 minutes of mediocre death grind slam blackened noise moshcore, pack up your shit and fuck off. Your tattoos are dumb and your band sucks. No, I won't like you on Facebook, get a job. Being in the back and not moving is goddamn awesome. I have work in the morning because I chose a career where I know when my next meal will be, so I'm not moving a damn muscle. You want me to move? Play music I haven't heard from 157,000 other bands exactly like yours. Break up already. My point is, there are people standing around casually enjoying the concert from the rear of the venue for a reason, and it's a perfect system not to be arsed with. All the wannabe metalheads who are still young and dewey-eyed enough to give a shit can go pump horns, bang heads and push-pit out on the floor like any of this still even matters.

Hey, don't get me wrong. I don't mean to hate so much on the moshers. That is a fully metal activity, along with headbanging and screaming like a banshee. Go have your fun while you still love music, good for you. But go do that good-time happy shit where you're supposed to. Here's a handy guideline that I spent 4 minutes preparing in MSpaint for those of you still lacking a discernible shred of common sense:

Click to enlarge so you stop being a fuck up.

Depending on the venue, these areas might not be so cut and dry. For instance, let's say you are at a venue with designated seating instead of general admission, in that particular case, you should fucking leave. That's not a metal show. That's some overpriced Broadway-style performance where the metal artists you came to see are putting on some fruity play where they are acting out what a metal show would look like if you were actually at a real one, instead of the bullshit opera you are politely sitting your crusty ass down at like some yuppy square. Didn't you see the number and section on the ticket? Didn't they make you choose a chair up front when you bought it? You hopeless fool. You should end yourself for being so inexplicably full retard. What a waste of everyone's Friday night.

This is you at a "metal show" with seats. 

I digress. If a concert venue wasn't designed by a mental midget, then the stage is front and center of the action, has an open floor space for standing, and a bar area that is far enough from all the mayhem, that you can order a beer without screaming. Regardless of its location, the bar is still to be considered "the back"; even if it's 10 feet away from the stage like it was at that shithole Paradise Rock Club in Boston. You should adjust your actions accordingly depending on what specific zone of the audience you find yourself standing in. If you feel confused, observe the actions of the others around you. It's how chimpanzees learn, so why not you? If the grand majority of the people within your immediate vicinity are just standing around with their arms crossed or talking to each other, don't start whipping your stupid head around like a fucking cartoon character. Just look at some these plebs; the vicarious humiliation I experience for them has spanned many miles and years away from this happening; yet it's still to this day, a tragedy to behold: 

Wow. What a completely perfect example of doing it wrong. It is clear to observe from the video that there is an enormous span of disinterested concert goers between these phonies and the stage Cannibal Corpse is performing on. Nevertheless, these dimwits snap their necks to and fro with enthusiasm strictly reserved for those squashed up against the guard rails. Do you want to know how you can tell when you're doing something dorky? When every woman within 20 feet is laughing at you. Don't think I don't have my eye on you too, Gauger Boyfriend up there with that little head bob you got going to the groove. You're about to find yourself in a world of poseur pain. Don't think just because this all happened 6 years ago that I won't fucking find you. I bet your lady friend already broke up with you, listens to indie now, and talks about how much you sucked to her new hotter hipster boyfriend. You fucking phase. fuck you. Moving on to our next example:

As evident in the Cannibal Corpse video above, if you're a complete fucking loser, then you tend to gravitate to other people much like yourself who are desperate enough for friends. Otherwise, how else will you hold those raging late night LAN parties and Magic: The Gathering tournaments? Very often you'll see clowns headbanging in inappropriate spots together in groups, because they think it would be a really cute way to bond as friends. Of course, these skinny pussies couldn't push to the front of the crowd to enjoy the band where they're supposed to if they tried (even if this is at Warped Tour); so they have to do it next to some poor guy with his arms crossed so as to prove he's not affiliated with these dopey knuckleheads. Nice Fox Head shirt, tool. I hope your dirt bike flips over and smashes what little brains you have left. Somebody stuff these numpties into a trash can. 

This gal is headbanging around a bunch of people who are far away enough from the stage to not give a shit, evident in how they're facing all sorts of different directions. The image description says she was doing it to Nightwish, which is bad enough, but to top it off, she put on a checkered wrist band for a metal fest. Avril Lavigne called, she wants everything that attracted Chad Kroeger to her back. Where would you even buy one of those since 2006? It's hard to say what upsets me the most about this picture. Probably the worst thing is that umbrella over by the right leads me to believe she's doing all this right by a food vendor. That's just not hygienic. People have to eat that, and it's already overpriced and stale without people picking your wispy, dyed-to-death goldilocks out of their fucking teeth. I DON'T WANNA FLOSS WHEN I EAT. That was a sexual innuendo. I'll explain it to you when you get it, and I was only kidding because muff is the stuff. And hey, don't think I'm being sexist here. Air guitard over there needs to fuck off too. Go home. Everybody just leave.  

"Boy it sure is great to be at another metal fest guys, just like back in the day! No, no, let's not go near the stage. We're too old for that. Plus I've had about seven brewskis and my tinnitus is acting up. But hey, do you remember how we used to headbang and rock out? Hell yeah, rock on bro! Let's show these punk kids sitting in this beer tent how REAL rock n' rollers do it a mile away from any music playing! Ow, my neck, ow, that's enough. Ok, let's go ask some 24-year-old girls if they've ever heard of Motorhead." I'm gonna share an experience I had recently with you. Have you ever met one of these middle aged divorcees who has actually lived the golden age of heavy metal, seen all the men we consider metal gods playing in dive bars when they were just getting started, and yet they still set off your poseur radar? One time, while I was enjoying the sanctity of The Back, I was getting hassled at some show by one of those golden age metal dudes because I made the mistake of wearing a Dio shirt outside. Don't do that. If you wear obscure-as-possible underground death metal band tees, other metal heads are less likely to be familiar and leave you alone, and that is just the best. Anyway, he was telling me this story about how he opened up for Anthrax back when they were good, which I thought was kinda cool. Then the conversation unfolded as follows:

Golden God: And our last song was a cover and the crowd went nuts over it! Can you guess what song? Go ahead, try and guess!

Brenocide: I dunno. What year was it?

Golden God: 1987.

Brenocide: Oh boy... was it Metallica?

Golden God: (Eyes widened and jaw dropped to the floor.) 

Brenocide: (Trying unsuccessfully to contain my eye rolling) Was it Master of Puppets?

Golden God Old Poseur: Holy shit! Oh my god how the fuck did you get that?!

Brenocide: Oh yeah, you know, I'm just goddamn John Edward over here.

I swear to Christ this is a true story. Out of all the phenomenal heavy metal music that was tearing up the airwaves back in '87, I successfully gauged precisely how much this guy sucked to one single overrated piece of metal music. I almost went with Iron Maiden, but I could tell from the get go I hated this guy too much, so that wouldn't have been possible. He went on to say that he really liked this new band called Avenged Sevenfold and I should check them out. 

Now, with everything we learned today, can anybody tell me what every single human being is doing wrong in the above video? Anyone? Yes, very good! None of these evolutionary rejects are headbanging in a Designated Fun Zone. In fact, the majority of them aren't even at a concert at all, much less in front of a stage. The farther you are from a designated heavy metal fun zone, the more obnoxious and poseury your headbanging is. You see, headbanging is something that's specifically meant to occur when blaring-loud true metal music is right in your stupid face, and the intensity causes you to lose your mind so drastically, you start whipping your skull like a mental patient. If you're not right up at the front of a metal band's performance, the music isn't loud enough, so you have no excuse. If you're at home, in your car, or out with your friends, you are not dealing with loud enough speakers, so you definitely have no excuse. 

Therefore, the only plausible explanation when you show concert-level enthusiasm in inappropriate settings is that you're goofing off. You're just parodying the way you think true blue metalheads act and you think that shit is funny. You would never seriously do something like that, which is why you and your chucklefuck friends are chortling with each other in the back like a bunch of Looney Tunes characters begging for a fist to the sack. Want to know the tell-tale sign of a poseur who is yearning for an uppercut to the bag? Watch and see if they smile after they're done headbanging. If you see a guy headbanging outside of the Designated Fun Zone and he doesn't smile, then he's just an awkward dipshit who doesn't know what he's doing. He read about headbanging in a book somewhere and he doesn't get where he's supposed to do it yet. If, however, you see this and the person smiles after, don't think on it, don't hesitate. Just a deliver a fierce haymaker right to the phony's little tender coin purse. Although it's not likely, we can't risk poseurs breeding. That's how this shit happens: 

The moment you realize you raised a metalhead POSEUR.

Finally, remember to only headbang to the truest of metal when in the fun zone. If you're at a metal fest and somebody for instance, booked Born Of Osiris to play along with all the real music, then everybody waits until Born Of Osiris is done playing to headbang. This also applies for After The Burial, Cattle Decapitation, Veil of Maya, The Acacia Strain and Arch Enemy. What I'm trying to say is don't go to Slummer Slaughter this year god damn it. Don't fucking go. 

You know what? I guess I'm being a little ridiculous. Scratch all this. Forget everything I said. This is a whole new Violation now:

Violation: Headbanging

Stop headbanging . Everybody stop having fun. Stop it.  

-- Brenocide \,,/