Pop culture has touched all our lives in some way. Our writers are just a little more open about it: meet Pop Addict, the semi-regular column where we talk about how pop culture has made us the brave citizens we are today.
It’s probably appropriate that this story about geekiness starts with a Latin class. Being your high school’s highest scorer on the AP Latin exam is kind of like being that guy with the world’s biggest Star Wars collection: a false feeling of accomplishment to accompany the giant “DORK” stamp across your forehead. (Also, I forgot it all the second I entered college Spanish.) But it was my junior-year Latin class that accidentally brought me something else. Something totally different. Something… even nerdier.
The assignment was normal enough: find songs in your playlist that match the themes of Virgil’s Aeneid. (Latin projects didn’t always actually involve… y’know, Latin.) Five years ago, though, I got most of my music from the first radio station the tuner found. I didn’t know artists or songs. So I appealed to an online pen-pal: what’s a good song for a bunch of warriors sailing around on an epic quest?
He sent me an mp3. Some little-known British band . A song called “Evening Star.”
I was blown away.
The song oozed pretentious grandeur. A soft piano intro exploded into an unbelievably fast guitar shred-fest, double-bass drumming, and soaring melodic vocals crying out glorious, uplifting, utter nonsense: “In a land of desire, your heart filled with fire, the land of the evening star!” The combined effect: I suddenly wanted to be on Aeneas’ ship, cutting through the waves on a grand adventure. Completely absorbed, I took a second look at these unknowns’ name: “DragonForce” (these days, thanks to a certain video game, you may have heard of them), playing a heavy metal subgenre called “power metal”.
A minor obsession was born.
Power metal bands, I discovered, combine my favorite elements of rock (catchy melodies, powerful high-pitched singing) and heavy metal (speedy guitars, thundering drums) with themes that are often heroic, occasionally tragic or funny, but always epic. They’re throwbacks to the metal of the ‘80’s, Maiden and Priest and Dio, cheerfully launching crowds into anthemic sing-alongs, eschewing the gritty harshness of most ‘90s hard rock.
It’s inspiring, elevating music, and it spoke to my sense of adventure, that carpe diem sensibility that life is a poignant journey of emotions and situations. The fantasy elements evoke a world beyond our daily drudge; more realistic bands and songs play towards relatability. I found the galloping speed-fests and lyrics about grand quests made for blood-pumping workout music, the maudlin ballads were emotionally stirring, and the generally happy tone was a boost to even my worst mood.
The catch: it’s nerdy. It’s legendarily nerdy. It’s the musical equivalent of LARPing, D&D, and Trekkies combined. It’s so nerdy, power metal bands themselves tend to favor either euphemisms (“melodic metal”) or modifiers (“symphonic power metal”). “101 Rules of Power Metal”, a gentle mocking of the genre’s absurdity, is well-known in online metal circles, and spawned an even funnier sequel.
I learned this quickly, and decided not to care. Doubling the size of my nerd mantle was a small price to pay for such fantastic music. My iTunes, long neglected, suddenly began to swell with names like Blind Guardian, Rhapsody and HammerFall. (Around the same time, my younger sister stopped letting me choose the music for car rides.) I learned the lore of these bands: their fantasy mythologies and real-life tribulations (ask me about the sad story of power-metal grandfathers Helloween, or don’t).
Then came the concerts. There weren’t many—the genre is much more popular in Europe—but I started going to every one I could. In September of my sophomore year at Northwestern, I saw Sonata Arctica, Cellador, and Edguy at two shows in three days, sang every lyric, and blew out my voice for a week. At each show, I made sure to snag an over-priced souvenir from the merch table. My T-shirt drawer began to grow increasingly black; having the logos recognized around campus led to new friends and concert buddies.
But one action was a bit more drastic—and probably a bit more frivolous—than the rest: I started growing my hair out. Really, really growing it.
Longer hair for guys is, of course, a trope of almost any metal culture. Plus, it was something I’d always wanted to try at some point, and now I had a probable excuse. I don’t actually play a rock instrument (beyond the plastic variety), but it still seemed like a fun experiment. If I didn’t try it in college, when would I ever get another chance? And how hard could it possibly be? I just had to skip haircuts, right?
Not quite. As I found out after my hair got past about an inch, I do not have the right genes to make this easy. Four months in, it was a wavy mess that I had to keep out of my eyes with gross gel or spray. It distracted me during sports; it went berserk in the slightest humidity. A smarter person would have called it quits and gotten a trim; I sucked it up and wore a hat. My Facebook photos tell the story: I spent my entire sophomore year at Northwestern with truly awful hair.
These days, I like to think I’m past the worst. I’m approaching shoulder-length, and paradoxically, this makes it more manageable. A cheap electric straightener helps. I’ve discovered the true value of good conditioner. I wear a bandanna or a (power-metal) knit cap for sports now; in another few months, I’ll probably be able to tie it all back. In short: success, of a sort.
I still take a lot of ribbing from people who knew me in shorter-haired days. The aforementioned little sister has called me a “caveman”; more that one person has said I look like Jesus (that’s a bad thing?). And for professional purposes, I’ll probably have to cut it eventually.
But for now, when I see those former-nobodies DragonForce once again this December 8th, I’ll have black clothes, locks to fling around in the mosh pit and I’ll fit right in with my happy-nerd-music brethern. For victory, we ride!