The Sound of Metal

By age 16, I had been attending local hardcore shows for about two years. Being in a crowd full of other raging teens equally pissed off at the world was the perfect outlet for my teenage angst.

However, by 17, I realized that music fueled by pure anger no longer satisfied me. I still felt the angst, but with it emerged a new sense of curiosity. I began to sit at the back of the crowd, bored, instead of participating in the usual moshing antics. Gradually, I stopped going to shows and lost my love for music – until one weekend at my local record store, I stumbled upon a section labeled “Post-Hardcore.”

I dug through the section and grabbed the record with the most appealing cover. When I got home, I put the record on the turntable, not expecting much, and settled down to do homework. Suddenly, my speakers erupted with harsh amplifier feedback, followed by an intricate guitar riff that made my brain feel like it was melting.

That song was “Entirely Different Matters” from Unwound’s album “New Plastic Ideas.” Though I was 20 years late to the band, their music impacted me just as it had the hardcore scene in 1991. I quickly devoured their entire discography, becoming obsessed. Unwound’s commitment to artistic exploration and powerful live performances helped shape the indie rock scene of the 1990s, influencing musicians I had come to love long before discovering them. 

So, when I heard they were coming to Portland to tour the same album that had captured my heart, I got my ticket immediately.

The concert was at Revolution Hall, and since I wasn’t yet 21, I had to sit in the balcony. I found a spot in the center, right where the audio from the speakers intertwined. I was a bit concerned for my ears, but when the opener, Clikata Ikatowi, a ’90s post-hardcore band, began their set, I was hit with a wall of noise that sent euphoria rushing through my veins. Clikata Ikatowi delivered a crowd-pumping, energizing hour, but I was ready for the main event.

As the stage lights dimmed, three silhouettes emerged in the darkness. My heart raced with anticipation. They picked up their instruments, the drummer counted off, and on the downbeat, the lights flickered on. I watched in awe as this mythical band, almost godlike in my mind, began playing their first song: “Entirely Different Matters,” the very song that had introduced me to them. My body froze in excitement.

Typically, part of the fun at concerts is witnessing how bands reinterpret songs when playing live. Unwound, however, existed in another realm; everything they played sounded exactly like the studio recordings. Some might find this boring, but watching their music performed with such precision felt like witnessing Van Gogh replicate “The Starry Night” right on stage. Unwound entranced the audience – rarely did anyone pull out their phone; we were too focused on the music to even remember we had them.

By the time the show ended, I felt like a brand-new person. This experience was something I had never thought possible. I remembered the part of me that had grown bored with music and laughed. I’ll forever be grateful to Unwound for reigniting my passion, keeping me angsty, and most importantly, fueling my curiosity.

Liam Hay