… is too whiny, screamy, and loud. This isn’t because I’m getting older (though I concede I may be in denial), but because when I turn on the radio to listen to something, I’ve been inundated for the past eight years with soloists screaming about how they hate their fathers and they hate their girlfriends and so forth. Now, I can identify. Let’s be honest. That whole father-son dynamic turns out rough in a lot of cases. My own father and I are on good terms now; and most ex-girlfriends are either vaguely tolerant, altogether apathetic, or have forgotten me (though those, too, have been messy). But people, lighten up. Or grow up.

The loudness isn’t a matter of the instrumentation—it’s about how there is no longer any conception of dynamic range. To find that, you have to look to [1] epic metal.

… is too whiny, screamy, and loud. This isn’t because I’m getting older (though I concede I may be in denial), but because when I turn on the radio to listen to something, I’ve been inundated for the past eight years with soloists screaming about how they hate their fathers and they hate their girlfriends and so forth. Now, I can identify. Let’s be honest. That whole father-son dynamic turns out rough in a lot of cases. My own father and I are on good terms now; and most ex-girlfriends are either vaguely tolerant, altogether apathetic, or have forgotten me (though those, too, have been messy). But people, lighten up. Or grow up.

The loudness isn’t a matter of the instrumentation—it’s about how there is no longer any conception of dynamic range. To find that, you have to look to [2] epic metal.