Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery—unless you’re a musician, in which case you’ll get called out and stomped into the curb as if you brushed your teeth with pavement. There is a fine line between inspiration and imitation, and while most musicians teeter on that line in order to translate the musical madness within their own heads, many simply rip off other artists in an attempt to piggyback on their unique ingenuity. This happens all the time in heavy metal. Take a band like Meshuggah—absolute kings of the genre who created a sound all their own. Shortly after their music infected us all like a neck-breaking virus, countless metal-heads started buying eight-string guitars, down-tuning into oblivion, and using the Meshuggah equation to create half-assed clones that now linger in a graveyard of replicas.
This is precisely why I stopped listening to so much metal while in the process of creating it with Autumn’s Eyes—because it was so damn easy to fall into that trap. I would hear a band that sounded phenomenal, and in an attempt to capture the same mood that washed over me when I first discovered them, I ended up subconsciously ripping them off. In doing so, my own music withered into a mere imitation of mock riffs, hollow production tricks, and lacking the soul from which it was originally derived. To this day, I reflect on songs throughout my catalog where I can taste the mockery, as if it were bleeding through the speakers. It’s an embarrassing examination of my own shame, yet a powerful exercise in how to shape the musician I aim to be, as opposed to the one others might write me off as.
While imitation can be harmful to an artist’s path, I do feel that early on, it is not only acceptable but necessary to learn the skills you need before moving forward. Anyone starting out on an instrument needs an entry point. Picking up a guitar and learning a few Metallica songs, for example, isn’t going to poison the well. Even if you start recording your own music and mimic some of your favorite records’ production techniques, these are building blocks that will solidify your creative foundation. Just as a painter might trace Van Gogh’s strokes before daring to craft their own masterpiece, so too must a musician learn the language of others before speaking in their own voice.
So, as I approach writing sessions for my next album, what kind of music am I surrounding myself with throughout this delicate but energetic process? Well, it’s most likely the opposite of whatever style I’m shooting for at the time. If I want to write an epic black metal album, I’ll refrain from listening to any black metal and instead opt for something like The Melvins or Jesus Lizard—bands that have no business being in the same space as Mayhem or Immortal. There is something profoundly unsettling about drawing inspiration from a place so distant from the music I seek to write, but therein lies the beauty: the melodies that emerge from this fractured influence often possess a strange, otherworldly quality. Sometimes it works brilliantly to my delight; other times, it’s an immense dumpster fire. But that is the nature of creativity: a realm of endless possibilities, where the only limits are those you impose upon yourself.