Hard rock and heavy metal always seemed to me to be elemental. They were timeless and somehow prehistoric, as if they had always existed and needed the right musicians (magicians?) to coax it into manifest reality. The first listen to an album such as Black Sabbath's first would reveal magical combinations of sonics and emotions that transported me to places never previously visited, but which seemed as if they had been awaiting my attention. The introduction of headphones into the mix would amplify this effect one hundred-fold.
Music became my world and loud, raw rock was my sustenance. I lived for the stereo. Since the souls who conjured up this unholy noise were most definitely otherworldly and supernatural, theatricality became as important as "that sound" and The Alice Cooper Group became an early favorite, rivaling spaghetti night. I actually had three walls of my (and my brother Garry's) room wallpapered with Alice clippings. Love It To Death, babies! I was 14, and just about to move to Rhode Island, land unexplored. I would meet many extremely cool people there, none of whom would understand my obsession.
