The end of the metal?

I listen to heavy metal a lot less frequently than I used to, and it’s mostly because of my son.  I watch him during the day while my wife’s at work, and I like to have music playing in the background.  Needless to say, metal is not on the playlists.  Classic rock, classical music, and jazz dominate our days musically.  As much as I love the heaviness of sound that metal provides, a toddler does not need to be raised on that kind of music.  So less metal for Daddy, too.

As a result, over the last two years I’ve seen a decline in my desire for metal.  I’ve had the chance to go to a few concerts but passed them up.  I haven’t been as diligent about purchasing new albums from my favorite bands.  Have I reached my limit?  Did my mercury levels reach their peak?  Are my ears finally relieved?

When I first started dating my wife back in 2008(!), I went crazy with my metal consumption.  I blasted it on every road trip.  I went to as many concerts as I could afford.  It was a liberating, exhilarating explosion of sound that I reveled in for years and years.  Much to the chagrin of most everyone around me, I tried to share my love of heavy metal.  Most of my friends plugged their ears.  A few “got it” and joined me in my years-long revelry.  While we didn’t live a heavy metal lifestyle, the music spoke to us.

So perhaps I’ve reached my limit.  Maybe the metal forge in my soul needs to go dark for a little while so the fires can ignite anew some time in the future.

But I do have a plan.  If my son comes to love heavy metal when he gets older, I’m going to pretend that I disapprove of it.  It will seem cooler to him and he’ll blast metal in “rebellion” of me.  Mwa ha ha.