Origin Story · Volume 12 · HEAVY METALIntroduction
The Loudness Problem
In 1968 the loudest sound most British and American teenagers had ever chosen to stand in front of was a rock band in a club, and the club was the limit of the experience. Fifteen years later the same teenagers, older, were standing in sports arenas holding fifteen and twenty thousand people, watching bands whose equipment travelled in convoys of articulated lorries, whose shows were assembled each afternoon by rigging crews hanging tonnage from the roof girders, and whose T-shirts out-earned their records. The music that built that apparatus, and was built by it, is the subject of this book.
Here is the argument, stated plainly at the start, because it is not the argument most books about heavy metal make. The usual account is a story about darkness: doomy riffs, occult imagery, dangerous young men, outraged parents. Some of that is real and most of it is packaging, and we will take the wrapper off as we go. The important story is mechanical and economic. Heavy metal is what happened when volume itself (the physical fact of amplification, the specific and beautiful thing a valve amplifier does when it is asked for more than it can cleanly give) became the organising principle of a music. And the arena is what happened when that music discovered that the apparatus it needed to exist was too expensive to be paid for by anything except scale.
That discovery has a precise form, and it is the single most consequential thing in this book, so here it is up front rather than saved for the money movement. For every genre in this series before this one, the tour advertised the record. In this one, the record starts advertising the tour, and then, before the period is over, the tour itself turns out not to be the product either. The product is a cotton T-shirt with the band’s name on it, sold in a corridor, at a margin no record has ever come close to, on which the band keeps a share that would look like theft on a record contract and looks like generosity on a garment.
That is not a footnote about merchandising. It is a reversal of what a band is, and it happened in this genre first because this genre had no alternative: daytime radio would not play it, the press despised it, and the only route to an audience was to stand in front of them in a building large enough to pay for the equipment. A music locked out of the machinery had to build its own, and what it built (arena routing, support-slot economics, the merchandise concession, the tour as a self-financing business rather than a promotional cost) is the template every stadium act since has used, including a great many who would be embarrassed to say where it came from. Watch the direction of the money reverse. It is the plot.
The introduction runs on for another 7 paragraphs, and then the book starts. 24 chapters · about 126 pages · $14.99
