Looking at a pile of our incoming mail yesterday, I couldn't help but notice that half of the stack consisted of vinyl from RidingEasy Records and patches (yes, the kind you put on a jean jacket) from Ball and Chain Company. When I asked my business partner (the one I happen to be married to) if he intended to squander our fortune on psych-metal vinyl and memorabilia the rest of our lives he looked at me as if I had grown a third eye . . . and I couldn't help but assume it would have probably been "much more metal of me" if I did.
You see, he's all in. There are stacks of metal records accumulating around our otherwise minimalist house that should be tucked away in their designated area so we can maintain some semblance of order. There are custom psychedelic decals stuck to our drinking glasses now that make them impossible to wash in the dishwasher and just yesterday I bore witness to a Graveyard patch being ironed onto a denim jacket directly on top of my favorite marble-top table. Sometimes it feels like the end of days around these parts, ya'll.
A few months ago I was standing at my baby brother's wedding taking in the statement that was his groom's cake; an exact replica of the Dimebag Darrell Dime Slime guitar that he had when we were growing up. The funny thing is that every guy in the Driskill Hotel Ballroom wanted a piece of that bitchin' cake although I'm sure its delicate three-tiered counterpart was equally delicious. My brother sold that guitar in his early twenties when he needed the cash, like so many of us do with our prized possessions when we're finding our way. In a twist of fate, he bumped into the buyer a decade later and bought it back for exactly what he sold it for and he loves it just as much as he always did, if not more.
There's something about a guy's attachment to all things metal (or rock-n-roll, for that matter) that's relentlessly enduring. It gets them through those tough teenage years and still surfaces on some of the most important days of their adult lives. It wasn't until I saw my husband pouring over the most recent additions to his vinyl collection with my 18-year-old step son hanging on his every word that I realized exactly how much this love spans generations.
Browse our limited-edition metal garb for babies and kids' (up to age 8) and enjoy some not-so-easy-listening while you do. Here are a few of our favorites from the past year:
Enjoy 20% off with code NEWYEAR2016 through February 15th. Cheers!