hey, welcome to 12tone! check this out: (bang) that’s a clip from the song Farewell, Sputnik, by the Spanish grindcore band Ernia, and I think most listeners would agree that it sounds pretty heavy. maybe even unpleasantly so if you’re not used to this sort of music, but for metalheads, heaviness is everything. it’s often said that the history of metal is an ongoing quest for heavier and heavier music, and while the actual story is a lot messier than that, it’s also not wrong. but what is heaviness?

what are we actually looking for when we try to make music heavy? that’s easy: it’s tritones and distortion. and if that’s a good enough answer for you, great! thanks for watching, don’t forget to like and subscribe, and I’ll see you in the next video.

But if you’ve spent any time in metal circles, you know it’s not that simple.

different metalheads who listen to different metal bands define heaviness in all sorts of different ways, and they can get really angry if you use it to describe the wrong things. so while I fully recognize that I’m dancing through a minefield here, I dug up a bunch of perspectives on what “heavy” actually means, and I’m gonna see if I can’t combine them into a sort of grand unified theory of heaviness. wish me luck. (tick, tick, tick, tick, tock) I think a good place to start is with the name: “heavy” as a description comes from the genre heavy metal, so where does that come from? it’s complicated.

long before heavy metal became a genre, the term was already making its way into the public conscience. in 1968, the Steppenwolf song Born To Be Wild described the sound of a motorcycle as (“heavy metal thunder”). earlier, in the 1961 book The Soft Machine, beatnik author William S. Burroughs introduced a criminal character known as (“Uranian Willy The Heavy Metal Kid.”) elsewhere in his Nova Trilogy, Burroughs also referred to heavy metal addiction, using it as a kind of drug.

And the Beats also used the term “heavy” more broadly to mean deep and powerful, without a direct connection to metal. meanwhile, in 1967, Hapshash and the Coloured Coat, an influential pair of artists who designed psychedelic posters for the likes of Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd, released an album of their own called Featuring The Human Host And The Heavy Metal Kids. and, of course, this was the Cold War, and average people were becoming much more familiar with the chemistry term “heavy metal”, especially in the context of heavy metal poisoning. among other things, in the late ’60s, there were growing concerns about mercury pollution affecting fish and the people who ate them. and those all make sense: motorcycles, outlaws, drugs, power, psychedelia, war, and death were all important elements of early metal culture, so while none of these sources are explicitly about a style of music, a term that captured all those themes seems like a perfect name, especially since in both material and historical terms, metal comes from rock.

But as for who actually applied it first, that is, again, complicated. one story is that it came from a New York Times review of a Jimi Hendrix show that described it as (“listening to heavy metal falling from the sky.”) that theory was popularized by Hendrix’s manager, Chas Chandler, but when sociologist Dr. Deena Weinstein went to find that review, she instead found that it didn’t seem to exist. the earliest uses she could find were in two different Rolling Stone reviews, both from 1970.

Lester Bangs was first, describing The Guess Who as (“quite refreshing in the wake of all the heavy metal robots of the year past,”) but while we can certainly guess, he doesn’t specify who those robots are. on the other hand, when Mike Saunders called Humble Pie’s third album (“more of the same 27th-rate heavy metal crap”) the term was finally associated with a specific band: (bang) although not in a very complimentary way.

Six months later, in another review, Saunders seems to have warmed to the idea, writing that Sir Lord Baltimore (“seems to have down pat most all the best heavy metal tricks in the book.”) and those tricks apparently sounded like this. (bang) but while Bangs and Saunders gave this sound a name, the sound itself already existed, and it was already popular.

it’s just that no one was calling it heavy metal yet, and the boundaries that divided it from more traditional rock weren’t as obvious as they might seem in retrospect. like, these days we mostly consider Led Zeppelin to be classic rock, but at the time they were part of the so-called Unholy Trinity of protometal, along with Black Sabbath and Deep Purple. whatever stylistic differences existed between the three bands weren’t important enough to attach labels to. but once it entered the zeitgeist, the term heavy metal stuck like glue, probably thanks to all the cultural implications we saw earlier, and a new genre grew up around it. but, of course, this gets even more complicated: while many people use “heavy metal” to describe all metal music, in my experience, metalheads mostly view it as a specific subgenre.

It covers the classic metal styles popular from the late ’60s through around the late ’70s. much of the development after that, while being both heavy and metal, isn’t heavy metal. again, complicated. but if heavy doesn’t just mean it sounds like heavy metal, then what does heaviness sound like? let’s start with one of metal’s most obvious musical features: tritones, which I’m using as a shorthand for any sort of melodic dissonance.

Metal is a riff-based genre, and in addition to the iconic devil’s interval, those riffs are full of half-steps, flat 9s, flat 6s, and other dissonant and atonal gestures. but while this is clearly an important element of metal, not everyone agrees if it’s specifically an important part of heaviness. I mean, I think it is: I’ve long held that if your riff isn’t heavy in standard tuning, then it’s not heavy, it’s just low, and I stand by that. try playing Mary Had A Little Lamb on an 8-string and tell me how brutal it sounds. I’d even go so far as to say that good riffs can sound heavy even if you play them acoustic.

check out this performance of Kingmaker by Megadeth. (bang) but of course, that’s definitely not as heavy as the original: (bang) ’cause while dissonance is the seed of heaviness, it’s far from the full story. the next obvious culprit is distortion. across pretty much every subgenre of metal, the one thing that remains constant is the distorted electric guitar, and that one little effect is a lot of what we mean when we call something “heavy”.

In fact, Drs.

Harris Berger and Cornelia Fales go so far as to say (“While the term ‘heavy’ functions in a variety of ways, it is most commonly used to describe guitar timbres, and all of the other uses of the term are metaphoric extensions of this primary use.”) and while I don’t think that’s quite true, I do agree that heaviness and distortion are intrinsically linked. I think most metalheads would. I’m pretty sure we can at least agree on that. but why?

there seems to be three main things distortion does to make instruments heavier. and, yes, I said instruments: guitar is the most iconic distortion target, but metal bands also distort the bass, and sometimes even the drums and vocals.

Distortion is a big deal. anyway, the first thing it does is sustain the sound. an undistorted guitar will slowly fade as you hold a note, but a distorted one lasts a lot longer, and at a much more similar intensity to the initial attack.

compare this: (bang) to this. (bang) that makes it feel louder, even at the same theoretical volume, and also lets it fill up more of the acoustic space, creating a dense, oppressive atmosphere. the second thing distortion does is amplify the low- and high-end frequencies, contributing to the famous scooped-mids tone that many modern metal guitarists swear by. the low end is especially important, because it provides what Dr.

Mark Mynett calls sonic weight.

that might just sound like a synonym for heaviness, but it’s slightly more specific. sonic weight is the perception that a sound comes from a large, powerful source, and we know from experience that large creatures make lower sounds. compare a cat’s meow: (bang) to a lion’s roar. (bang) of course, weight isn’t just about low frequencies: if I boost the bass on my speaking voice, I don’t suddenly sound bigger. sonic weight also has to do with the energy of the attack and the density of the tone, which is part of why power chords are such a big deal in metal: when you run them through distortion, those extra low-end frequencies really add up, creating a thick, weighty timbre that reads as extremely heavy.

The final effect, and perhaps the most obvious, is that distortion adds noise. specifically, it adds a bunch of non-harmonic frequencies, extra sound waves that obscure the underlying pitch. this is especially true for the high frequencies: some of them may happen to be harmonic, but most are just noise, especially in more recent extreme metal. but it’s not just that distortion adds more noise: what makes it heavy is that it adds what Dr. Jason Miller calls surplus noise.

that is, it adds noise in a way that’s obvious, intentional, and excessive. it’s kinda like that scene from This Is Spinal Tap, where Nigel Tufnel is explaining to an interviewer that his amps are custom-built with volume knobs that go up to 11, for when he needs a little extra push.

The interviewer asks why he doesn’t just increase the overall volume so that 10 is louder, and Nigel responds (“these go to 11.”) because heaviness doesn’t mean you need to get louder. heaviness means you have to go to 11.

I already made a whole video about why being loud is such an important aesthetic value in metal, so I’ll just put a link in the description, but that general desire for volume goes hand-in-hand with the noise effect of intense distortion.

Loud noises distort sound waves, so distorted sound waves sound loud. this also explains another technique for achieving heaviness: downtuning. metal guitars mostly use drop tuning, where the lowest string is dropped a whole step. this puts the three notes of a power chord played on the bottom three strings all on the same fret, so it can all be played with just one finger.

that allows for easier access to that important fretboard shape, and also gives it a slightly lower range. but many bands take this even further, maintaining the drop shape but tuning all the strings down. this gives access to lower notes, and thus more sonic weight, and it also means looser strings that produce a noisier, buzzier tone. Bodies by Drowning Pool: (bang) is played in drop C, and you can really hear the low rumble of those downtuned strings.

Unfortunately, this does come with a downside: if the strings get too loose, they can’t really stay in tune anymore, but metal guitarists love walking right up to that limit for maximum heaviness.

another place we see this value on surplus noise is in metal’s use of extreme speed. in a song like Nile’s Cast Down The Heretic: (bang) the sheer density of attacks, especially on the drums, contributes a lot to the overall sense of heaviness. the double-kick pedal, which lets drummers hit the bass drum with both feet, allows for a truly ridiculous machine-gun kick sound, and performance techniques like blast beats create a sheer, unrelenting wall of noise at the cost of higher-level metric structures. guitarists also get in on the fun, with techniques like tapping and sweep picking that let them play notes faster than it feels like they should be able to.

This ties in to another aspect of heaviness: rhythm.

metal in general typically relies on stiff, rigid rhythms, with precisely timed attacks demonstrating the careful synchronization of the various band members. it becomes machine-like, almost robotic: loose timing is often described as sounding more human, so removing it dehumanizes the band and turns them perhaps into something greater, but certainly into something different. this mechanical timing is one of the main things that separates modern metal from its looser, more groove-based blues rock origins. and in particularly technical subgenres like progressive metal and math metal, Calder Hannan argues that rhythmic heaviness is also associated with rhythmic difficulty. something like Tempting Time by Animals As Leaders: (bang) where multiple different rhythmic lines are being simultaneously maintained against each other by different instruments may sound heavy in part because of the level of control and mastery the performers must show in order to achieve it.

Many metalheads also play instruments, so this flawless execution can be understood as a display of authority not just over the music, but over those listening to it, taunting them with their inability to replicate your prowess. this could also be viewed as another instance of the surplus noise value, where the sheer level of technical proficiency on display becomes excessive and overbearing. the complexity of the section makes it hard to follow the song form, trapping the listener in a sort of metric labyrinth from which only you know the way out. but speed presents a problem. remember, distortion adds sustain, or more precisely, it flattens the dynamic envelope.

the end of a distorted note sounds very similar to the beginning of one, so if you have a lot of them in rapid succession, they start to blend together.

You can hear that in System Of A Down’s Chop Suey: (bang) where it seems to have been done intentionally. but in more extreme styles with even more distortion, this can quickly reduces the guitar tone to a muddy pile of nothing, drowning out the melodic features of the underlying riff. and worse, all the added noise from the distortion occupies most of the available frequency spectrum. even if the guitar is mixed properly on its own, it’s intruding on the acoustic space of all the other instruments, making it hard for anything else to cut through.

this is why Mynett argues that, for true heaviness, sonic weight needs to be balanced by clarity. notice how clear the kicks sound in a track like Dimmu Borgir’s The Maelstrom Mephisto: (bang) despite the intense distortion all around it.

Without those crisp hits, it’d probably be too muddy to really sound heavy. this means the need for clarity is the main limiting factor on the levels of distortion a guitarist can achieve, and techniques that provide more clarity open up pathways to even greater heaviness. like, if you want clearly pronounced attacks, you can do that by hitting the instrument harder, which also increases sonic weight.

and if that’s not enough, you can use palm mutes, like in Ruin by Lamb of God: (bang) to get the heavy timbre of distortion while avoiding the overwhelming sustain. modern metal producers will even add additional drum samples on top of the played drums to increase their attack power and help them cut through the mix, creating a physically impossible level of heaviness through artificially enhanced clarity. but if playing really fast is heavy, then playing really slow must be the opposite, right? *laughs* no. not even close.

in many styles, the breakdown is considered the heaviest part of the song, and entire subgenres have been built around the heavy power of extreme slowness.

Something like Candlemass’s Solitude: (bang) is a pretty clear demonstration that slow and heavy can be best friends. and that might seem counterintuitive: some of the authors I read expressed confusion at this bimodal effect, where playing faster and playing slower can both make you sound heavier. but I think it makes sense if you consider the physicality of the music: these are the two speeds that are most fun to headbang to. fast tempos let you thrash around uncontrollably, while slow tempos give you space to put your whole body into it.

mid tempos can be nice too, especially if you’ve got the hair for a good windmill, but pulling further in either direction opens up new possibilities for throwing yourself physically into the music. slower riffs also help solve that clarity problem: if you’ve got more space between notes, you don’t need to worry as much about them bleeding together, and you can dial up the sonic weight even higher without losing the definition and power you need in order to sound heavy.

But more than any of these technical parameters, heaviness is typically described by metalheads through the use of metaphors and synonyms. you’ve heard them throughout this video: powerful, brutal, intense, extreme. these are obviously less precise than some of our other criteria, but I think that’s ok.

if we want to understand the aesthetic value of heaviness, we can’t just scrutinize its parameters, we have to talk about its purpose. metalheads don’t have an aesthetic preference for, say, a noise band starting around 1.7 kilohertz. that doesn’t mean anything. what’s meaningful is the sonic imagery it creates, and that imagery is tied to the metaphors of power, intensity, and violence that run through metal culture.

and that brings me to probably the best, most complete definition I’ve got for heaviness: heaviness is sonic transgression. I joked at the beginning that the clip I played might be unpleasant for most listeners, but that’s not really a joke. it’s kinda the whole point. as a culture, metal values its outsider status. understanding and appreciating heaviness, specifically the right kind of heaviness for your particular subgenre, is like a secret code that proves you can hang.

When a style drifts too close to the mainstream, that code gets too easy to crack, and metalheads abandon it in favor of more authentically heavy styles. the most infamous example of this is probably the glam metal movement of the ’80s: a band like Motley Crue (bang) is, I would say, reasonably heavy from a sonic perspective, but they’re clearly trying to play to a much broader crowd than more underground contemporaries like Death: (bang) and that makes the label feel wrong. there’s pop influence there, and pop isn’t heavy because heavy, by definition, isn’t pop. but the mainstream changes over time, so the exact details of what heavy sounds like have changed too. and they’ll probably keep changing: 10 years from now, the stuff we’re praising as heavy today might sound quaint.

after all, Black Sabbath: (bang) was once the epitome of heaviness, but their sound pales in comparison to, say, Lorna Shore. (bang) now, don’t get me wrong: Sabbath are legends for a reason, and here at 12tone we respect our metal elders.

But the arms race of heaviness over the last 50 years means they were playing in a very different ballpark. if you made a new band in 2023 that sounds like Sabbath did in 1970, no one’s gonna call you heavy anymore. the game has changed, and it’s left that sound behind.

but what’s unlikely to change is the cultural signifiers around heaviness, the things that heaviness is used to mean, and the things that heaviness makes listeners feel. the story of metal is, in many ways, the story of chasing that moving target, as the transgression of old metal acts becomes mundane and requires new innovations in order to keep the music from appealing to the masses. and that’s heavy. anyway, thanks for watching! I’d really like to thank my Patreon patrons here.

this has been such a wild ride, and especially these last couple years, you’ve been so instrumental in keeping this channel going. this is my full-time job, and I simply wouldn’t be able to do it without your support.

I’d like to give a special shout-out to Blake White, Susan Jones, Jill Sundgaard, Howard Levine, Warren Huart, Damien Fuller-Sutherland, Jon Hancock, and Geoff for their extremely generous support that has really helped make this happen. I’m uh… I’m trying a new thing where I don’t script this outro, because I don’t want it to sound like I take this support for granted. every person who pledges anything on Patreon is donating money that they made in order to help keep my random elephant music video vision going, for some reason?

I don’t know.

I don’t know why anyone does that, but I really appreciate that you do. and… yeah. thank you. that’s all I have to say.

uh, and beyond that, y’know, don’t forget to like, share, comment, subscribe, and above all, as always, keep on rockin’..

Watch on YouTube