By Ian Murphy (Who else would it be by?)
I am known in certain circles for having pretty varied tastes in music. This is absolutely true, but I must admit, I always seem to go back to the heavy stuff. I was in a metal band in college and I can’t stay away from it for too long. For every article I write about the songwriting merits of George Harrison or the Velveeta-rich croon of Winglebert Bembledack, the magnetic pull of metal always lurks in the shadows. The energy, power and sheer brutality just calls to me like Walter Hudson (RIP fatman) to a garbage bag full of popcorn, and later stuck in the figurative doorway of musical obsession.