Man oh man.
I did it.
I wrote a dumb song with an amazing drum track.
No massive lore drop for this one, guys. No ancient system event. No corrupted tower. No cosmic horror hiding behind the curtain.
This one is just a personal journey of living with ADHD.
And honestly, this type of brain has helped me a lot in my adult life. It has helped me juggle different businesses, hobbies, ideas, creative projects, and an overall high-level awareness of a ton of concepts: spiritual, financial, political, business, marketing, music, and on and on it goes.
But at the same time?
I don’t close cabinets behind me.
I order sunglasses in bulk because I know I’m going to lose them.
And my motherfucking keys?
I just had them in my hand.
I swear they were right here.
The worst part is, I never realize they’re missing until I’m about to leave. Doctor’s appointment. Business meeting. A house full of kids ready to walk out the door.
And then…
BAM.
No fucking keys.
As I furiously search for them, the rest of the group starts losing their minds, which of course adds more stress.
“You always do this!”
“You lost them again?!”
“Mom! Dad lost his keys again!”
Man.
What a total pain.
Cue the fast-forward montage of me tearing the entire house apart.
First, I check all the usual places. The counter. The table. The little spot where I definitely put them. The jacket pocket. The other jacket pocket. The drawer. The couch. The kitchen.
When they aren’t there, I have to start getting creative.
Now I’m looking in places I know they probably aren’t, but what else am I supposed to do? People are waiting. Deadlines are approaching. My brow is covered in sweat. Reality is beginning to fracture.
I open a drawer.
I see something metal under a bunch of shit.
Relief floods my entire body.
I pull it out.
It’s my old keys.
GOD FUCKING DAMNIT.
Now I’m flipping couch cushions.
I’m digging my hands into the parts of the couch where spiders probably live.
After that, I flip the entire couch onto its back like I’m interrogating it.
More comments from the peanut gallery.
More anxiety.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Into the dirty laundry I go.
Checking pockets.
Then the wet, clean laundry that hasn’t made it to the dryer yet.
Then the dryer itself.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Meanwhile, my keys are sitting under my bed, inside my shoe, waiting for me to find them.
The universe itself is laughing at me.
My ancestors, in other dimensions, take a moment out of their cosmic happenings to tune into this spectacle.
From my perspective, time has slowed. The rules of gravity are bending. The blood that already rushed to my head is having trouble staying put. My limbs are cold and numb.
I’m not the same.
I’m not the same.
Electricity sparks between my fingers. Static makes what little hair I have stand up. My irises start to fade white.
I am rage.
I am the end.
I am broken.
Then, in desperation, I drop to my stomach and look under the bed.
There it is.
My shoe.
Tipped over.
My keys sitting inside.
The emotional and mental glass shatters.
I return to my normal self.
Time to go.
Yeah, so that’s the feeling.
That’s what I wanted to capture with “Cold Metal Memory.”
A friend of mine actually supplied some recorded drums as a sample for this one, and that made a huge difference in the creation of the song.
Two humans on this one!
I sang the song the way I wanted it sung, handed that direction to RIOT, wrote some fun riffs, and we were up and running.
It’s fast. It’s ridiculous. It’s dramatic as hell. And it treats the simple act of losing your keys like an apocalyptic psychological collapse.
Which, if you know, you know.
