Metallica vs Jesus
Let’s begin this story with a parable:
Metallica was playing a set in a
bar. After the set, the band was sitting around enjoying some drinks when in
walks Jesus. The band was stunned.
“Can I buy a
shirt?” Jesus asks.
“You can have
any shirt you’d like,” they respond.
“Pick one out
for me,” Jesus replies.
The band rummages
through the cardboard boxes looking for the perfect shirt for Jesus. They
debate the various options. The one with a menacing snake equipped with razor
sharp fangs dipped in blood is considered, but no, it’s too reminiscent of
Satan in the Garden of Eden. Another member of the band holds up one with an
illustration of a toilet and a hand with a dagger coming up from within it;
“Metal Up Your Ass” is the caption. The bandmates chuckle to themselves but put
it back, it being too vulgar for Jesus. The one with a skeleton reaper affixed
with a scythe is also dismissed; it’s too dark they think. After some time, and
more shirts piling upon the floor they reluctantly give up.
“We’re sorry,”
they say, their voice tinged with embarrassment. “But we don’t think we have
anything that would suit someone like you.”
Jesus nods, an
expression emitting that of understanding but also disappointment.
“It’s okay. Go
in peace, my sons.”
Years go by and
the band mates all eventually die and meet up in heaven. One day, as they are
sitting around reminiscing of their memories back on earth, they see Jesus and
he is wearing a worn out ACDC shirt. Astonished, they think back upon their
conversation with Jesus back at the bar.
Jesus reads
their thoughts and responds. “I asked for a shirt, didn’t I?”
In 1996, I was thirteen years old and
exploring the wild and mind-blowing genre of hard rock. In particular, I found
myself attracted to the bands of the 1980s. I loved the high-pitched vocals and
screaming guitars of bands like Skid Row and Cinderella and appreciated their
aptitude to play heavy metal and, transversely, love ballads that are still unparalleled
today. Def Leppard and Motley Crue’s chugging riffs and bad boy attitude had me
headbanging and playing the air guitar like an absolute madman in the comfort my
room in nothing but my whitey tighties. Then came along the ultra-aggressive
bands that were so heavy they caused my face to tighten and wrinkle as if I
were smelling the worst odor imaginable as my face melted via the insane guitar
riffs of Pantera and Megadeth. But, my all-time favorite band, a culmination of
heavy, stank face rearing, head banging mania, grunt growling, slap your momma
music was Metallica.
This was the time before streaming
music was available. As such, I had to borrow cassette tapes and CDs from
friends (i.e. their older brothers), check them out from the public library, or
save up money from mowing lawns to purchase their albums. Looking back, this
process extended the exploratory nature of learning about bands and their
music. Today, this process could easily take a few hours on the internet; in
1996, this took months, and by god the searching and uncovering only made the
find that much more thrilling.
I
recall listening to the radio in hopes to hear, by chance, my favorite song played.
There were many a Saturday afternoon spent listening to the radio in hopes the
song I desired most would sound. If fate were kind and the song was played, I
would immediately dash, like a cheetah to its prey, towards my stereo to hammer
down the chunky record button and capture the song on cassette tape.
Back to
Metallica. In 1996, Metallica was five years removed from releasing their most
successful and world thrilling album, commonly known as the “Black Album”. An
absolute monster of an album, it put them front and center on the world stage.
The “Black Album” was my genesis of Metallica discovery. From it, I began searching
to find and listen to their previous library of music including their prior
four albums: And Justice For All, Master of Puppets, Ride The
Lightning, and their maiden album, Kill ‘Em All. I loved Metallica’s
energy and aggressiveness, their incredible speed, and crisp riff changes that
were both unanticipated and stunning in its intricacies. Nealy each album would
include a slower, dare I say ballad-ish type of song, that also demonstrated
their range and depth. They were the total and complete package.
As thirteen-year-olds
tend to due, myself and some friends rode our bikes to the nearest mall on a
hot summer’s afternoon. Too shy to actually approach girls our age, we were
content to merely look at them from a distance and pretend they thought of us
as handsome young men worth their attention; attention we never got it. Turns
out, girls like to be approached and well, that sort of confidence would take
me several more years to muster up.
No real surprise, my friends and I
found ourselves at the music store looking through the cd catalogue. Metallica
was due to release their next album! It was to be titled Load and was
already having mixed reviews from music coinsurers. It wasn’t in stock yet, so
I looked elsewhere to how I could spend the money burning a hole in my front
pocket. I spotted the poster collection and began rifling through the available
options. In addition to posters of bands, also included were several posters of
bikini clad babes. My virgin eyes fought to look away, knowing such material
was too mature. However, a boy’s curiosity towards grown and beautifully
developed women turned out difficult to simply dismiss. Gawking and blushed
face, I flipped through the poster reel hoping the next poster would be something
non-sexual to offset my attention. And then, there it was, the coolest
Metallica poster I had ever seen: the background was jet black with two gnarly
skeleton heads facing each other in the center, each with hollowed out eyes and
jutting fangs as if vampires had previously occupied their flesh. I couldn’t
tell if it were shards of ice or that of bones that had been crushed, but
pieces of it were scattered all around the skeletal craniums. Above the image
and the fragments, in bold, concrete-looking font read: Metallica. Simply put, it was the most badass poster I had
ever seen. Excitedly, I bought the poster and raced home to hang it in my room.
In my room, despite the floral
wallpaper I had inherited from my older sister, I was doing my best to give it
a unique and unruly vibe. This Metallica poster would be just the thing to put
it over the top. With a pink tongue sticking out between my teeth and a perched
eye, I searched the walls of my room for the perfect spot to put my newly
acquired treasure. On the walls already hung were posters of Michael Jordan,
John Elway, a boxing poster of Rocky, and a U.S Marine’s Flag that I had bought
from the US Navy surplus store. After some deliberation, I found the perfect
spot for the poster: on the back of my door. In addition to the brilliance of
the poster and its forthcoming placement, I found my father’s black electrical
tape and pulled off a few strips. Attaching the black tape to the four corners
of the black poster gave it that extra edge. Satisfied, I turned put in the
“Black Album” and rocked out one of Metallica’s most played songs, Sad But True
as I admired my newly acquired treasure.
A knock at the door sounded. I hit
pause and opened the door.
“Hi
mom,” I said, excitedly.
“Hi,
how was your day?” she asked.
“So
fun! Check out this cool new poster I bought,” I said and brought her into my
room to view the spectacle.
My mom
took her time looking over the poster I had selected.
“Pretty
cool, right?” I said, eagerly.
She took
her time choosing her words. “It’s a little dark, don’t you think?”
“Yeah!
That’s what makes it so cool.”
“Cool
is one way to describe it,” she said.
Not
getting her meaning, I simply agreed. “Yeah, it’s basically amazing.”
“Right,”
she said. “Has your father seen it?
I
wasn’t the sharpest thirteen-year-old and so, in my naïveté, I failed to detect
the disapproval oozing from my mother. Adding insult to injury, her bringing up
my father’s approval should have put me on high alert that something was
definitely wrong.
“No,” I replied, simply.
“Well then, I think he’d like to
see it.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” I said, like a
complete moron. My father, a loving and compassionate man, was also our
church’s Stake President. A “Stake President” was the presiding priesthood
leader and decision maker of approximately 3,000-5,000 members of the church.
He also had a PhD in Education from the University of Utah and was a
forward-thinking elementary school principal. Oddly though, throughout the remaining
of the evening my parents said nothing else about my poster.
The next morning, I showered for
school as usual. I opted for the shower next the laundry room because of the
amazing water pressure and five option showerhead. The laundry room was
directly connected to our kitchen where my parents were seated eating their
morning oatmeal as usual. With a damp towel wrapped around my waste, I exited
the bathroom and walked past the kitchen, past my parents, and past the
Metallica poster that was now displayed on the front door of the kitchen
pantry.
It took me a moment to realize what
I had just seen. I stopped, and backed up to see if what I had thought I had
seen was real. To my utter amazement, where a painting of Jesus normally
resided on our kitchen panty door now hung my black, dual skeletal head poster
of Metallica, electric tape and all. I was completely dumbfounded.
“What the?” I said, aloud.
“What’s that now?” my parents
replied.
“Why is my Metallica poster on the
pantry door?” I asked, aghast.
My dad cleared his throat. “Well,
your mom and I liked the poster so much that we thought we should share it with
the rest of the house.”
The meaning was beginning to dawn
on me.
“Isn’t that where you have the
painting of Jesus?”
“Yeah well,” my dad began. “We
really like the poster. We can always find another place for the Jesus painting.”
My mind finally broke through the
thick layer of adolescence. Touché, I thought. My parents had played
their hand beautifully.
I didn’t respond or whisper another
word; the message they sent was clear and straightforward. I dressed, ate my
breakfast, and when my parents were out of the kitchen, I quietly removed the
poster from off the pantry wall never to be hung again.
Jesus 1; Metallica 0.
“Can I buy a shirt?” Jesus asks.
“You
can have any shirt you’d like,” they respond.
“Pick one out for me,” Jesus
replies.
“Here you go,” the band says
handing over a dual skeleton shirt affixed with fangs and bone fragments.
“Thank you,” Jesus replies.
A long pause.
“Are you really the Son of God, the
Messiah of mankind?” the band then asks, their voices shaded with trepidation.
Jesus responds, “Come, follow me
and see.”
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