THE HISTORY OF POSER METAL

"She's my cherry pie/Cool drink of water/Such a sweet surprise/Tastes so good/Make a grown man cry/Sweet cherry pie"

Those are just some of the lyrics from one of the better-known poser metal songs. My name is Gunther, and I'm a poser metalhead. Nothing can do my soul better than some good old-fashioned poser metal. The public-at-large might say, "What the hell is poser metal? Isn't that a contradiction in terms? You're a metalhead, so you believe in honesty and integrity. Yet, you listen to poser metal. Metal comes from England and had been a predominately underground music until Black Sabbath popularized it in the early-70's. What right do you have to listen to a music that talks about demons and wizards, when you believe in the total opposite? You even have the tenacity to call the music your own 'poser metal.' I just don't understand."

That last statement is so true. People don't understand what poser metalheads are all about. Hell, even some people who call themselves "metalheads" don't understand what we're all about. I'm here to clear up some of the misconceptions.

The whole poser metal scene took shape in the early-1980's. Inspired by a spoken-word passage from noted orator Henry Garfield ("I'll grow my hair down to my ass before ever attempting to satisfy you people!"), collectives such as D.R.I., C.O.C., etc. traded in their closely shaven haircuts for long-and-flowing tresses. Hi-top Vans skateboard shoes gave way to low-cut desert boots called Grungies. Jimmy-Z pants were exchanged for tight, brown Levi's corduroys.

Although the foundations of the entire movement were laid down during this time, like-minded groups wouldn't actually start calling themselves "poser metalheads" until 1985 or thereabouts. These people, also commonly known as "grits", were not really political. For the most part, grits were junior-high-school kids who'd save their lunch money in order to drink Big Gulps, smoke cigarettes, snack on Corn Nuts, and play Karate Champ at the nearest 7-Eleven. Sometimes a member of the pre-1985 old guard -- usually someone's brother who'd dropped out in 8th grade -- encouraged the grits to skip school and hang out in front of Pembroke Mall theaters while making catcalls at every passing girl. I think Bret Michaels, a well-known poser metal writer, said it best: "Cause baby we'll be/At the drive-in/In the old man's Ford/Behind the bushes/Till I'm screaming for more."

Soon, the neighborhoods of Aragona Village (Va. Beach) and Merrifields (Portsmouth) were being populated by poser metalheads. They introduced their music to the existing residents, who'd grow to love it. Bang Tango bar mitzvahs, Cinderella campfires, and Poison pajama parties became creative (not to mention alliterative) ways to let children experience these wonderful sounds. Black T-shirts with bloody, yellow happy faces flew off the rack. Sears was moving Toughskins and Wrangler jeans by the truckload. Sales of Marlboro cigarettes increased 412%. Aragona Little Leaguers chewed tobacco just like their Major League counterparts. What a beautiful world it was when you could spit! What a glorious time it was to be grit!

Due to the cancellation of MTV's "Headbanger's Ball" in the early-90's, most poser metalheads split into two camps. "Alt-rockers" were one sect, whose "rebellious" anthem was Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit." This song (as well as the subdivision of alt-rock called "grunge" that stole its name from the desert boots), according to the media, ushered in such modes of dress as flannel shirts and ripped jeans. THAT'S TOTAL BULLSHIT! Poser metalheads had been wearing said garb 7-8 years before the tune praising a deodorant was released. As far as "Teen Spirit" being "groundbreaking" and "full of angst," it sounded like nothing more than a fifth-rate Twisted Sister song. To hear real rebellion, play "We're Not Gonna Take It" or "I Wanna Rock" and go tell an alt-rocker to piss off.

The other group of separatists called themselves "death metalheads." Their name and what they stand for are great, but I would never consider myself a death metalhead. The ones I know -- when they're not drinking pig blood and branding upside-down crosses into their foreheads -- have a tendency to do such things as skating on Rollerblades, wearing No Fear T-shirts, and using the word (?) "phat" in conversation. To me, this behavior is almost as bad as the alt-rocker's. Once we get into that frame of mind, we're the same as what we're fighting. Don't get me wrong -- I'd much rather hang out with a death metalhead than an alt-rocker.

Let's get educated about the whole poser metal scene. Goodbye from your poser metalhead friend.