The headline is promising: "Norwegian Boy Fends Off Wolf Pack With Heavy Metal." Pretty awesome, right?
Picture the frozen steppes of Rakkestad - we're just assuming there are steppes there - and it's after 2 p.m. in the wintertime, so the sun has long since set. A lone young man with burgeoning Norseman features walks home from school, carrying only a backpack and a tribally stylized boom-box.
Suddenly, a pack of wolves crests the hill ahead of him. He calmly turns to take an alternate route, but finds that the wolves have cut off all potential escape. He is surrounded.
Instead of fear, a look of determination crosses the boy's face. Within him is the blood of countless generations of warriors, wild and fierce men and women who tamed this savage land of jagged ice and made it their own. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a cassette tape as the wolves draw closer, circling menacingly.
The eldest wolf in the pack, a seasoned veteran of many hunts and fights, pins his ears back against his scalp. The younger dogs don't understand, but as the boy slips the cassette into the boombox, the old wolf's fears are confirmed. He has seen this happen before, and he knows that there is a sonic maelstrom coming.
The old wolf, whose name is unpronounceable in our human languages, is the only one among his more headstrong pack who winces and hesitates. He knows not the names of Mayhem, Burzum, Darkthrone, or any other mighty Norwegian black-metal titans, but he has been beaten back by their brutal assaults many times in his long, battle-weary life. The boy is clever and well-trained.
Before the pack can lunge in for the kill, he presses the play button:
WHEN YEWWW ARE WIIIITH MEEEEEE... IIII'M FREEEEEE... IIIII'M CAAAARELESS, IIII BELIEEEEEEEVE...
Wait, what? Creed? Fucking Creed? The headline promised us heavy metal. It said nothing of poppy, faux-Christian post-grunge garbage. Instead of fleeing before the fearsome thunder of Emperor or Thorns, the wolves are instead attempting to race their own nausea from the scene. It's not fear that drives them away, but disgust. People don't sing like that. People don't write lyrics that bad intentionally or unintentionally.
The wolves are confused. The people of Norway once fought with honor. Now, the youth of this nation have been infected by some sort of scourge from the cultural wastelands of the West. A true warrior wouldn't disgrace himself by dropping the audio equivalent of an anthrax bomb directly into the eardrums of his foes, but the true warriors are apparently dying out from these lands.
Their children are a corrupted, poisonous breed, and this world is theirs.
If ever you are called upon to defend yourself using only music, assuming you want to fight dirty, here are some equally terrible bands that could be used as weapons, . Be warned: Some of them may be outlawed by the Geneva Convention.
