![]() Inevitably, the openers are almost always the same, often playing into nearly every cliché you can think of regarding metal bands-frantically angry and anti-everything, but in particular, extremely anti-religious. As soon as the door opens, we’re immediately pummeled with blast beats and stale, smoky, sweaty, beer-stained air, watching the crowd undulate like a stormy sea in time with a never-ending onslaught of breakdowns and bass drops. The sequence of events at these concerts is nearly always the same: after passing the big bouncer guy with a nice denim vest (covered in similarly nice patches), we get close enough to the door to hear the muffled cacophony ricocheting around the room inside. There’s some sort of curse on my head, both metaphorically and literally). I’m fully aware that my love for the genre is probably fully playing into the irony of the whole thing, but I’m honest when I say that I don’t think I’ve seen a clearer presentation of the Gospel than when I’m at these shows with mystery-man Tyler, watching moshers throw down from the back of the venue while somehow being targeted by a full glass of beer that inevitably gets knocked off an upper balcony ledge (I kid you not-this happens to me every show. Yes, every chance we had, we would go listen to some good ol’ metalcore-a genre so soaked with irony and faux-edginess that it has itself probably become a meme at this point. If all of my stories about Tyler were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written, but my most vivid memories with this absolute enigma of a man find us traveling together to some small shady concert venue in the heart of Richmond or Norfolk, VA (one time we found ourselves in a shopping center in NoVa) to enjoy an evening of ear-splitting-scream-in-your-face-punch-a-wall metal shows together. Nearly all of my best memories from college center on my close-yet-mysterious best friend named Tyler, who became mythical in our friend group because of his penchant for mischief and his unerring tendency to seek out and bask in all of the absurd things of life. ![]() To bridge the gap of this conscious state that we live in I swear we need to find some comfort in this run down place ![]()
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