Back in the metal days

By ISA BRUTAL

I was pleasantly surprised by this editorial rather than discographical publication of Isa and I have to say that I was very curious. Well, after reading it I can say that Isa has really brought back to life what, for me, was the most incredible period of the end of the millennium. I think that many of us 80' metalheads will recognize ourselves perfectly in the stories, places and situations Isa writes about and, personally, I found moments of real emotion. Isa's writing style exudes passion and nostalgia from each word. Definitely to be read repeatedly, to keep alive in us the memory of something that will never happen again. Thank you Isa". Dario Perego.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Youcanprint
• Release date: Dec 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9788891169815

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Publishing

Although this book seems to tell the true story of the author, the main characters and events are fictitious. However, there are numerous references to real characters and events from that period of time.

@ All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

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Titolo | Back in the metal days

Autore | ISA BRUTAL

ISBN | 9788891169815

Prima edizione digitale: 2014

© Tutti i diritti riservati all’Autore

Youcanprint Self-Publishing

Via Roma 73 - 73039 Tricase (LE)

[e-mail]

www.youcanprint.it

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INTRODUCTION

I have been a heavy metal fan for about thirty years, I grew up with heavy metal music and still even now, at the age of forty-four, I still consider myself a fan. My passion for heavy metal is not only about the music, but also a lifestyle that has definitely influenced the events in my life. Generally, metal has always been considered a teenager trend, viewed negatively for the hooligan-ish look of the typical heavy metal kid, the leather jackets, the long hair, and the studs and so on, as well as the music, very aggressive and loud, often with angry and sometimes satanic lyrics.

Most of the heavy metal teenagers, once they reach the maturity, leave metal behind, for the kind of things considered more suitable to serious, responsible adult life. For others heavy metal remains a passionate hobby, cultivated in the few spaces they manage to cut out of family and work commitments.

For the very few, like me, heavy metal has always been and always will be the focus of life, despite my family commitments and responsibilities, and despite the Italian bigotry, which views it negatively.

Personally this does not affect me at all, on the contrary... now, less than ever, people’s opinions about heavy metal mean little to me. Being a metalhead at my age is something I'm rather proud of; I don't feel at all inferior or superficial compared to my peers in their fourties, I rather consider myself superior because I'm really free to be whatever I want, free from what society expects from a woman of my age. Today, more than ever, I'm aware of not belonging to the category of stereotypical women. Just like I wasn't as a teenager, I was sure I wasn't going to be like my peers. I am a true metalhead and I continue to do what I've always loved to do. My past experiences have strengthened my metal spirit and have contributed to the maturity of my personality. I am determined not to give up anything, because we only get one life and our destiny is already affected at birth by the period, place, parents, friends and the environment in which we are born and grow. I continue to go to concerts, pubs, drink and smoke, although I do these things with clear knowledge of my limitations, and I have the same spirit and enthusiasm I had as a teenager; I like to have fun, to joke around, to dress in black with studs, I like skeletons, tattoos, long hair, I like loud music, I like to scream and go wild, I like the deafening sound of guitars and drums, I like making some noise, headbanging, moshing and stage diving and I hope to continue this way of life until death.

It's hard to go back thirty years down memory lane, and I wonder how I'll do in another thirty years; it seems like an eternity has passed and I have the impression of living another life where everything is different. These days there is Internet and Facebook, and thanks to them I was able to find friends who I hung out with when I was a girl, and pick their brains with questions like «Do you remember when we went to that place and we did that thing?». And while trying to remember that episode, I realize that I have instead completely removed it from my mind. If only I could have imagined thirty years ago that in the future there would have been Internet to point out every single moment that we live and through which you can share every event in our life... All we had then was the present, immortalized by some sporadic photo and above all by our memory that often does not do us justice. I would like to remember more , but I cannot , I wish I had taken millions of photos and shot videos as you do today, because so many memories are gone and with them pieces of my life, as if I had never lived them. Every time I meet a friend from the past that reminds me of some event that I had removed is as if he gives back a piece of myself. What I'm trying to do in this story is to retrace and reassemble my teenage years lived in the 80s through the memories and emotions surviving inside of me. I would like to relive these emotions, I would like to relive the events, the people I met, the places where I've been, and immortalize them in this book, so that my unreliable memory, will no longer delete them.

1981-1984: NAUTILUS, TRANSEX AND THE SINIGAGLIA FAIR

In 1981, I was in sixth grade and I was living in the heart of Milan, where my parents had moved for work. My local school, even if public, was frequented mostly by kids from wealthy families, entrepreneurs, doctors, lawyers, even nobles with whom I hadn't had a lot in common because my family was of humble origins. Not bonding with my school mates, I waited for the weekend to go to visit my best friend named Rosa who lived in Cesano Maderno, just outside Milan; we were very close, played together since an early age because our parents were friends, especially on weekends. Rosa was a couple of years older than me so we went out with a group of older boys. Often, on Sunday afternoons, Gianni, Rosa's brother, took us with him to the Nautilus, to Cardano al Camp, near Varese.

The Nautilus was a quite big disco club, with three dance floors and two outdoor swimming pools, and in the main dance floor they were playing reggae and country music, Rosa and her brother's favourite types of music. Gianni was a quiet guy who lived like a hippie, he smoked a lot, wore long shirts and embroidered Indian leather sandals. At the Nautilus I smoked my first joint, Rosa and I were dancing to a track by Boston and her hippies friends next to us were smoking, one of them passing it also to Rosa; she already smoked several cigarettes without the knowledge of her parents and I followed her. Of course she took the joint that her friends were passing and smoked it, and then I did it too. That was not the only time that I smoked joints. Although they did not seem much to me, I did not want to be excluded and Rosa really liked them.

In another dance floor of the Nautilus they played heavy metal music and that's where I got the first experience of this music. I saw guys dressed in black leather, studded all