More noise, more band shirts, more me.
A full year of this metal blog nonsense.
It was December 4th, 2021, when I hit publish on my first post, tiptoeing into the world of heavy metal like someone nervously approaching a haunted house.
One year later? I’m still here. Louder. Heavier. And slightly more feral.
Time to look back on the journey.
2021: Confused. 2022: Corrupted.
Let’s start with the numbers.
In 2021, my Spotify Wrapped was a mess. A Top 5 of random tracks from background playlists.
36,369 minutes of music, and not a single band that actually meant something to me.
Top genre? Deutschpop.
Yes. Really. (The shame lives on.)
But 2022? 53,816 minutes.
That’s a 47.97% increase in listening time. And that doesn’t even include the hours spent on YouTube rabbit holes, deep dives, and band documentaries.
Metal took the top spot. Followed closely by Black Metal.
A beautiful transformation.
(Also, “Swiss Metal” apparently made the list, which I assume was Samael on repeat. I will accept no other explanation.)
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Blast Beat
Let’s talk about fear.
Back in January, Black Metal was the genre I avoided like the plague. Too cold. Too intimidating. Too corpse-painty.
So I stalled. I dove into Heavy Metal, NWOBHM, and Glam like it was still 1987.
(W.A.S.P. and Mötley Crüe ended up as my top artists. No regrets.)
But in June, I pressed play on Bathory. And everything changed.
That gateway opened the floodgates—now, Black Metal is the subgenre I’m most obsessed with.
It still scares me a little. That’s probably why I love it.
Alcest, Cradle of Filth, and Mork are now daily playlist staples.
Go figure.
Music, Movement, and Losing My Mind (and 10kg)
This year wasn’t just a musical shift—it was a physical one.
Metal became my mental health soundtrack.
And my walking soundtrack.
And—shockingly—my accidental fitness plan.
In the first four months of 2022, I lost 10kg just by stomping around the neighbourhood with riffs in my ears and rage in my heart.
Not sure I’ll keep the weight off, but damn it, I’ll die trying—preferably in a band tee.
Metal = Identity Theft (In the Best Way)
The deeper I fell into metal, the more I felt like myself again.
The version of me I hadn’t seen since my goth days in 2004—before the polite assimilation, the family life, the social camouflage.
Metal gave me that piece back.
Now I own more band shirts than jeans.
I got my own black metal logo.
I made friends over blast beats.
I feel more confident, more grounded, and less like I’m pretending to be “normal.”
Because, frankly, I never was.
And now? I look the part again.
More importantly — I feel it.
Gigs, Glam Panic & Getting Louder
In 2022, I saw Samael & Diabolical in Berlin and Blind Guardian in Hamburg—my first proper metal shows. Next year, I’m hoping for even more.
- Kreator & Lamb of God in Hamburg
- W.A.S.P. in Bremen (though I’m genuinely worried seeing them live now—at their age—might kill the magic entirely)
- And my big one: Wacken Open Air 2023
Wacken will absolutely push me out of my comfort zone—but I’m looking forward to it with a chaotic mix of fear and unhinged anticipation. Heat. Noise. Chaos. All of it.
I also intend to buy an electric guitar and actually learn how to play it.
Because why not? It’s never too late to start making noise.
In 2023, I want to see more shows, meet more metalheads, make more friends, and keep digging deeper.
My blog will continue. The journey is still just beginning.
There’s so much left to discover.
Stay tuned. Stay loud. Stay strange.