The Man behind the Leather


Metal is my life, it encompasses more of my existence than movies, books, video games, or any other activity combined. If it is possible to listen to metal during any of my daily activities, I make it so. It wakes me up in the morning, keeps my brain occupied while I drink coffee, and while I am at work or anytime I can’t listen to it, I am most likely talking to a friend about it or planning what the next band I listen to is going to be.

I live a normal life. I deliver pizzas in Columbus, Ohio, I hang out with my friends and my girlfriend, I own a cat. Deep down I have always considered myself to be a bit of a missionary of metal. I enjoy spreading it, burning people cds and inviting people to concerts.

The point of this blog is to be an outlet for this knowledge, I have so many opinions about bands and music, I attend concerts and watch dvds, yet have had no way to communicate my experiences with the world. So if you would like to read underground metal music reviews, hear a die hard metalheads opinions on metal related issues, or just happen to be friends with me, subscribe to my blog and check up on it every now and then. Thank you for your interest and may you live a thousand years.


“You live and learn. At any rate, you live.” – Douglas Adams


9 comments on “The Man behind the Leather

  1. Why aren’t there more comments? This is wrong. Am I the only one who reads this at work or am I the only one with a job? How Metal is that? I think the cat comments poisoned the well. Now if that don’t piss Chaz off nothing will. Boo-yah!

  2. Interesting column on minimalist production vis v vis Black Metal. My take home nugget- Bedroom Black Metal. I’m always enlightened by the dark and learned Chaz. Appreciate the nod to the punk roots of poor production. As a young lad I found myself with a copy of Iggy and the Stooges “Metalic KO”. Said album was produced live in some Detroit hell-hole ballroom and sounds as if it was recorded in a flooded toilet bowl warehouse. As I recall, it was kind of a hollow roar with almost no discernible instruments. Alas I was too young to appreciate and the disc found itself a new home- perhaps it now rests in that same toilet bowl factory patiently waiting for it’s mother.

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