Written By Remmy Chillmister
Metal Lair Complaint Department. A Subdivision of The Ministry of Metal
COMPLAINT NO. 002: Modern Algorithms
“Welcome to The Metal Lair Complaint Department, where we take the petty annoyances, legitimate grievances and algorithmic bullshit of the metal world and give them the thoughtful, mature consideration they deserve. Which is absolutely fucking none.”
I have a complaint, actually, I have two.
One is for the algorithm and the other is for you. Yes. You. Don’t make that face.
Every week, somewhere on this miserable glowing rectangle we call the internet, some poor bastard is trying to convince you to listen to a band you’ve never heard of.
A writer spends hours digging through new releases. They listen to an avalanche of albums filling their inbox. Sometimes twice because once isn’t enough.
They research the band’s history. They check the lineup. They track down the label. They read old interviews. Maybe they even talk to the artist.
Then they sit down and write 1,500 words explaining why this strange little record from some band in Finland, Texas, Poland, Australia, or the back of somebody’s garage deserves forty-five minutes of your time.
They hit publish. Twelve people read it. Meanwhile:
“BAND MEMBER SAYS SOMETHING SHITTY ABOUT OTHER BAND MEMBER.”
Forty-seven thousand clicks, fourteen thousand comments and hundreds shares. Suddenly everybody is a scholar.
Nobody knew the band had a new album out yesterday, but by God, everybody knows the bassist unfollowed the drummer.
This is where people like to blame “the algorithm.”
The algorithm.
That mysterious digital goblin living inside your phone, apparently forcing your finger to click on nonsense against your will.
Except that isn’t really how it works, is it? The algorithm watches what you do. It notices what stops you from scrolling and notices what makes you engage. It sees you share with the caption, “CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?”
It knows that you ignored the review of an incredible underground band but spent eleven minutes reading comments about whether some musician’s girlfriend commented on another guy’s Instagram post.
Then it gives you more of that. And everybody acts shocked. The algorithm is not Satan, it’s a mirror. And unfortunately, the mirror has receipts.
Drama works because drama is cheap.
You don’t need research, context or to listen to anything. You don’t even need to understand what happened. A screenshot, headlines and a little rage posting are all it needs. Congratulations: algorithmic feedback loop engaged.
Meanwhile, the people actually covering music are doing archaeology. They’re digging through the Metal Archives and Bandcamp pages with seventeen followers.
They’re opening promo emails from labels nobody has heard of and listening to debut records at midnight. They’re interviewing bands across eight time zones. They’re trying to convince somebody, anybody, that there is still incredible music being made right now.
Not in 1986, 1991 or “back when metal was real.” Now, today.
There are bands making crushing, beautiful, deranged, brilliant music while half the internet argues about whether somebody backstage got caught with their pants down.
And then everybody turns around and says: “Music journalism sucks now.” Oh, does it? Interesting.
Because when somebody writes about music, you don’t click. When somebody writes about drama, you arrive like pigeons at a french fry convention.
Then you complain the restaurant serves too many french fries. That is impressive.
The worst part is what this teaches publications. Editors look at the numbers.
Album review: 214 views. Interview with a new band: 168 views. Carefully researched underground feature: 93 views.
“Musician A DESTROYS Musician B in SHOCKING feud”: 82,000 views.
Now imagine trying to convince somebody running a struggling music site not to chase that traffic.
You want journalism about music? Then read journalism about music. You want publications to cover new bands? Click on new bands.
You want artists to survive? Listen to them, share them, buy something and tell somebody.
Because every time you ignore the music and sprint toward the drama, you are voting. And the algorithm counts every vote.
So the next time your feed is nothing but beefs, scandals, lawsuits, divorces, backstage arguments, cryptic tweets, screenshots, rumors, and whatever fresh hell somebody posted at 3:17 in the morning, don’t ask:
“Why is the algorithm showing me this?” Ask: “Why did I teach it that this is what I want?”
And while you’re thinking about that, there is probably an incredible album sitting three posts below it with twenty-seven likes. Go click on that. You might accidentally discover music. Terrifying, I know.
– Remmy Chillmister
The Metal Lair Complaint Department
That’s how you know it’s real. Yinyo.
Missed last week’s Metal Lair Complaint Department? Find it here.
The Metal Lair Complaint Department is a Metal Lair® Original Series
SUBMITTED COMPLAINTS
Name: [REDACTED]
Complaint: “Remmy, fuck your AI slop!”
Remmy responds:
“Hey, [REDACTED] fuck your human slop.”
Name: Jon Taylor
Complaint: “You cover a lot of underground bands, but sometimes I want a quicker way to know where to start. There’s so much music that I don’t know which article or band to click first.”
Remmy responds:
“Fair complaint. We throw a lot of noise at you because, shockingly, metal has a lot of bands. We can do a better job pointing you toward the best entry points instead of making you wander around the archive like you’re in a hedge maze.”
Name: [REDACTED]
Complaint: Hey, I’m at your house fucking your woman.
Remmy responds:
“Great. While you’re there, take the trash out.”
FILE A COMPLAINT WITH THE METAL LAIR COMPLAINT DEPARTMENT
Have a metal-related grievance that needs official investigation?
Bad concert etiquette? Venue bullshit? Festival fuckery? A trend in metal that needs to die? An industry annoyance? Something that’s been pissing you off since 1987? Have a complaint against Metal Lair?
FILE YOUR COMPLAINT
File it with the Complaint Department. Remmy may investigate your grievance in a future installment.
Selected grievances may be investigated, mocked, dissected or otherwise subjected to the questionable judgment of Remmy Chillmister in a future edition of The Metal Lair Complaint Department.
Submission does not guarantee investigation. Remmy has a substantial backlog of things that piss him off.
About The Author
Remmy Chillmister survives on beer, bad decisions, and one functioning ear since ’79. Banned from three metal festivals, countless venues, and one nursing home for excessive honesty. Nobody knows why he still has a press credential, including him.
Read more from this author:
Louder Than Fear: 16 Artists Who Risked Their Careers for What They Believed
OZZY OSBOURNE TO RETURN AS AN A.I. AVATAR AND METALHEADS AREN’T SURE HOW TO FEEL ABOUT IT
From Moshpits to Medicare: The Elder Metalhead Survival Guide
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