Winter's Wolves?

The wife and I just recently went on a cruise of the Caribbean and it was, for the most part, relaxing and enjoyable. Unfortunately, everywhere we would go, and with few exceptions, the proper soundtrack for these lovely environs was deemed to be reggae. If there wasn't a live band in the vicinity, there was a sound system blaring, making sure we got our daily allotment. I thought I had managed to finally tune it out when a reggae version of a Jimmy Buffett song made my brain collapse in on itself. Sure, we had heard our share of Mr. Buffett's music on this trip as well, but this. . . this. . .

Obviously, I'm still having trouble with that memory. When we would, however, find ourselves a nice, quiet corner, mostly we would enjoy the quiet. But a couple of times, hanging in our cabin, we'd listen to some music off my laptop, which I had kind of furtively brought along. Lounge, samba, jazz. All of these seemed to suit. But an odd thing happened.

On two separate occasions, when the music we had chosen ran out, the next stuff in line happened to be metal. Mastodon in one instance. Celtic Frost the other time. And while I normally would have enjoyed listening to either of these bands, I sat puzzled for a moment before skipping past them. They seemed to have lost their power.

I pointed this out to my wife, who despises most metal, and we conjectured that maybe metal loses it's power closer to the equator. We agreed that it seems to be a music more suited to northern climates, places where there is even the possibilty of winter. And snow.

This answer suited me for the rest of the vacation. When we got home, and I was a few days into my normal routine, I put on some Mastodon in the car and was relieved to feel my head start nodding, my pulse quickening. Rawk!! I thought about our Metal Only for Northerners hypothesis and rejected it, thinking "But what about Brazil! They love metal in Brazil."

Having been back for a few weeks now, I think I've figured it out. As embarrassing as it is to admit, metal is, for me anyway, primarily escapist. And it gives voice, I think, to frustration. On vacation in the Caribbean, shit. Frustrated with what? Escape from what?