A middle aged woman came into the shop today and bought an unusually large stack of records. She really didn't look like your typical metalhead. She said she was going to go home and listen to ALL of them to make up for a shitty week at work. I asked her if she listens to music at work. She said only in the car on the way, but not on the job because no one where she works listens to "good music" and think she's weird because she likes hard and heavy stuff. Headphones are not an option.
I meet a lot of folks like this at the record store. I think this is the case for a lot of heavy music fans. In our day-to-day lives we linger in the shadows, among the tame easy-listening mainstream. Waiting, not relating. But when we are alone with OUR music, or at a show among our tribe, the thunder and growl is a validating ritual. Alone, or as many, when the filthy riffs start stirring our guts, we commune with the primal. This is what shadebeast means.