Once upon a time I was heavily into heavy metal. The rawness of power chords captivated me. Gritty lyrical messaging didn’t register as much as the amplitude emanating from guitars, drums, bass, and sword-like spittle-coated microphone poles jousted by lead singers. I grew up on the likes of Black Sabbath. It blared through headphones (before earbuds were a compact, convenient thing) or organically. My Roman Catholic mom crossed her arms, upturned the corner of her mouth tightly, and slightly shook her head when I stacked and spun back-to-back heavy metal vinyls on the “phonograph.” Yet, she knew enough not to worry, somehow knowing, despite certain titles and words rasped by Ozzie Ozbourne…I’d turn out alright. Mother’s intuition. She knew since I were about 5-6 years old that I envisioned being a police officer.
I grew up watching NYPD cops do The Job. I knew I’d be in uniform one day, but my dream of being a cop in the Big Apple didn’t come to fruition. At least not there, it didn’t. I was pinned in Florida many years later. My long hair was shaven for duty and according to agency specs. Then Mother Nature, a nasty barber, came and took any hair a follicle could muster. No worries: I saved on shampoo, combs, and the like.
Along my career, it was customary for me to downplay music in the cruiser; God forbid I miss an urgent radio transmission because Linkin Park was disconcerting my audio comprehension.
After retiring from police work, I maintained my love for music, ranging the spectrum from metal to Indie to cello. As such, I came across a metal band, Five Finger Death Punch, and their devotion to first responders. So much so that I tapped YouTube and consumed several of their well-done A/V pieces. In almost all, there is illustration and/or lyrical reference to the trials and tribulations encountered by public safety and military warriors dealing with daily front-line travesties. Throughout their material, symptoms and recognition of PTSD are alluded.
Speaking of the group’s allegiance to our military warriors, FFDP’s guitarist Zoltan Bathory said the following during an interview by Chad Childers writing for Loudwire.com: “The military [members] are a good portion of our fan base and it’s happened organically because of what we talk about, what we sing about, what we do. We’ve had to fight for everything. I came from a Communist country and whatever it takes, that’s what makes you who you are and it will draw similar people to you. And those people are these [soldiers] who believe in something bigger and stand for something. Every position, it doesn’t matter how bad it is, you just have to find a way out of it. And that’s what the military guys have to do mentally and that’s why they do it.”
I never actually thought of a relatedness and corollary between heavy metal rockers and uniformed services, and that compelled me to write about the unique tapestry of words and actions.
Despite the hardcore chords in the background, Five Finger Death Punch strikes the deeper chord: the one burning inside, routinely ignited by revelations and depictions of anti-military and anti-police sentiments devaluing the suited bravado some find repulsive and abhorrent to simply suit their whiny whims. The freedom to emote is fascinating psychology, isn’t it?
That video hit home on various fronts. It reminded me that we seldom see such episodes of freedom fighters on the frontlines…and the tragic losses sustained by company and comrade. It is all in the fight for those in whom we believe. And that message is powerfully portrayed by this metal band with a heavy message.
As we near the end of June—PTSD awareness month—it seems a befitting corollary that this sort of subject matter is conveyed from a music genre which in the past was not so open to the courageous acts of uniformed warriors. The mantra Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll disinvited law enforcement personnel in the green rooms, on stages, and within tour buses.
But times have changed and evolutionary mindsets are less myopic and more open. As Five Finger Death Punch wrote in the preface to another video depicting their fondness and support for cops and soldiers: The ones that love you the most are the ones willing to fight for you.
I’m a middle-aged guy. What appeals to me nowadays is still the power chords, but even more enlightening are the messages being conveyed by people whose candid admiration for cops, soldiers and public safety warriors is met with money-where-your-mouth-is demonstrations.
What’s a middle-aged, retired policeman doing listening to this kind of genre? Exercising the liberty he fought for while also merely receiving the message some choose to impede with prejudice or cop-block with arrogance.
“I swore to defend you. I volunteered. I risked my life so you don’t have to.” Often spoken only by the gesture of swearing-in as a police officer or soldier or firefighter or paramedic…those 16 words prefacing one of FFDP’s songs define American resolve. It is not only reserved for public safety professionals or military men and women. No, many more conduct US national security business in covert capacity and in faraway clandestine landscapes, often sweating the fact no immediate backup is near. Self-confidence borne of training and attuned mission objectives set these folks apart. Not better than, only on behalf of.
As Bathory considered PTSD among service personnel and the band’s potential influence to get the message conveyed, he stated, “So we’ve done these USO shows and spent time with [soldiers] and by being around them, they’ve become friends. So being around these guys, you start to understand their problems. You understand PTSD and you read the stories and you know what they’ve been through, so this is personal to us as well. They’re our friends and as this band has become an influential force, we’ve tried to do things. We try to bring attention to certain things like “The Wrong Side of Heaven” video for example—that was addressed by The Washington Post and several politicians because it had over 100 million views and now its almost 200 million views.
“People are seeing and exploring the data and seeing how the veterans are becoming homeless. If we have this platform, we should use it for something good and we’ve been doing this.”
A few of my police colleagues arrived in the law enforcement arena with security clearances from military plateaus by which closely-guarded “military secrets” were diligently maintained. It is not the top-secret information which ought to inspire but the sworn-to covenant with which these military-turned-law-enforcement-officers project integrity for oath-keepers to reflect.
Lately, the chat among myself and other police retirees is a rather split group: some crave going back in uniform while others look at being a cop again like Superman confronting a mound of Kryptonite. Having lived the lifestyle of police culture and the conflicting emotions borne of the belief that one is doing the right thing while telegraphs say otherwise…is no easy recipe to adopt.
“I only did what I thought was truly right” wrote Five Finger Death Punch in their song “Remember Everything.” I can speak for myself and trust other cops and soldiers harbor the exact same sentiments. I knew I was somehow carving out tiny hollows and voids when I backed the police cruiser from the driveway. My son’s lip quiver painted the picture I am trying to convey with words. Those images are indelibly burnished upon my brain. That child’s heartache would never know his dad was spat upon, hated for his attire, and wished dead by people who voluntarily hold hands with the devil.
Deeply philosophical conversations I have with police cohorts tip-toe around such sensitive subject matter. The emotions borne of a personal/professional police journey, stirred by myriad pieces of brokenness deposited by members of the public, are unspoken. They remain so. It is rightly-placed rhetoric to suggest sacrifices made by law enforcement officers are persistent. It is the nature of The Job.
Despite the constraints of police life and the constrictions it places on the heart, my young son maintains his desire to be a policeman. No matter how much more rigorous and treacherous on the streets of America nowadays, I support his (and others) convictions to get in the game of warriorhood.
For their vested interests regarding police officials who were felled and never made it home to family, Five Finger Death Punch has announced the band’s intentions to donate proceeds from their upcoming tour. FFDP’s guitarist, Zoltan Bathory told Loudwire.com: “On this next tour, we are donating a portion from every ticket sold to an organization called C.O.P.S. [Concerns Of Police Survivors]. Basically, it’s for the families of fallen police officers. Realistically, we’re not living in a world where everybody’s got flowers and smiling and are peaceful or [chanting] “Kumbaya.” So for those who realize this is not reality, you have to accept that each city has a police force, and they are really that thin blue line, that thin layer of ice on a deep ocean of f–king chaos and savagely things can happen to them.”
Bathory continued, “It’s a necessity and once you accept that it’s a necessity, then you have to look at it and realize there are certain people who will sign up and do this job. I don’t have to look at my girlfriend and you don’t have to look at your family and think, ‘This could be my day.’ It could be a bad traffic stop or if you’re in the military, it could be a mission that goes sideways. We don’t think this way, but for these [warriors], they go to work and realize they might not come home. They sign up for that and that is respectable. I personally look at them and think they are special people who deserve the respect and I don’t know that the general population understands what they go through. I feel that they are not getting the respect that they deserve.”
To those who maintain myopic mindsets and voluntarily weld-shut the windows allowing any and all amicable exchange of debate leading to reasonable echo, one can only imagine the losses and waste. As it was when I was a young headbanger, when I became a copper, and in present-day existence: My ear is always tuned to constructive messaging, to include metal mania and authentic, supportive depictions of those who rush to fight on the front-lines of a chaotic society.
In all, despite the gritty, grungy sound and dinful messaging by this metal group, doesn’t it beat the pants off of one more smug, smirk, and sneaky grin on the face of Hillary Clinton and that kazoo-like mouth buzzing with lies and flies?
