Jam Journal: How a bunch of gnomes made me love metal
I’ve always been an eclectic music listener — my Spotify Wrapped always contains genres I’ve never even heard of from all across the musical spectrum. Seriously, what is escape room? Growing up, I never restricted music based on genre. My first iPod shuffle was loaded with my dad’s personal library of almost exclusively country music. My mom encouraged me to listen to her hip hop and rock college faves, like the Beastie Boys and Nirvana.
Like any music consumer, I have my preferences. From Orville Peck to The Strokes to Fraxiom, I try to cover a lot of territory that usually falls into “alternative.” My ears require a diverse nutritional palate, and Spotify is their dedicated server ringing up orders for an extra serving of Bay Faction. Despite my best efforts and love for a punk rock voice run ragged, one genre has always escaped my grasp: metal.
I’ve sampled some cross-genre metal before. Poppy’s “I Disagree” contrasts heavy metal vocals against pop instrumentals, intertwining into a unique experience Poppy herself describes as “post-genre.” Zheani, an Australian rapper, calls her sound “fairy trap,” a mix of rap, pop and metal. These artists bring a metal flair to their otherwise pop sound. But no artist has managed to grab my attention into prog rock-nu metal deliciousness quite like Gnome.
Gnome isn’t quite a “true metal” band. In fact, they refer to themselves as a “stoner rock band,” yet another genre that will steadily climb its way up my Spotify Wrapped next year. I know, I know — metalheads out there may protest at calling Gnome “metal music” when they don’t even claim it themselves. Please hear me out!
Heavy metal is a transgressive, experimental genre. With roots in psychedelic rock and a flair for the flamboyant, metal has carved out a niche for the tumultuous, rebellious, and subcultural. So it doesn’t seem so crazy that three guys with pointy red hats and an impressive vocal range would fit right in.
My first exposure to Gnome was incidental. Scrolling through YouTube, a man in a tall pointed red hat, long beard and shiny golden stockings caught my eye. I watched as he danced in what I can only describe as “the most dad moves ever” to some truly impressive riffs. Naturally, I immediately absorbed every single music video Gnome had on YouTube, then added their entire discography to my Spotify playlist.
There is something completely fascinating about watching a gnome prance about to rock music. At the time, Gnome couldn’t escape my mind. I was knee-deep in finals, grad school applications and medical appointments, trying to keep it all balanced through the end of the year. “Just one more week,” I would think. And after that week, “just one more.” I didn’t leave my apartment except to take an exam, my social life essentially crushed. My lack of control over the situation only exacerbated the emotional and social consequences. “It’s all serious business, now,” I would think. The grimness of my physical state would surely pass.
It didn’t. How could it? I was trapped in a humorless spiral, splintered from my usually joyful self. Goofiness was a distraction. I chose to turn off my emotions and eventually, they just left.
Enter: Gnome. The silliness was unparalleled. It was like the wackiness spigot in my mind suddenly unclogged, unleashing a wave of something in my brain I couldn’t recognize in the moment. The mere sight of a pointed red hat had revived a part deep within me I couldn’t explain to anyone else. As I poured over Gnome’s music, their fantastical world of revolting gnomes and mythical underground creatures spoke to my own internal disconnect from the world I was in.
Gnome’s rebellion wasn’t pure rage or gloom: It was a celebration of the outcast, the individual that chooses to be silly in a grievously serious world. I try to remember to let myself have a taste of frivolous joy, even when it’s the toughest thing I can do. In dark moments, sometimes you just have to put on a pointed hat and get a little goofy.
“Jam Journal” is a rotating column featuring a new Daily Trojan editor in each installment commenting on the music most important to them. “Jam Journal” runs every other Friday.