Imagine this: It’s the year 2000. You’re six years old, sitting between your parents in your father’s 1994 Flareside Ford F-150.
The radio’s playing – Star 94. The song starts with soft piano and a string synth pad. Clean vocals for a second. Then, a rapper and a full band punch in.
It’s nu metal time.
Hey, kid self. I’d like to introduce you to your favorite band for the next eight years of your life. Congratulations! Their name is…
It hasn’t totally dawned on me that I’m completely in love with them, but… out of all the top 40 and post-60s rock my parents allow me to listen to, this is what I want to hear the most.
One night, my dad takes me for a ride somewhere. He tells me that he bought their CD, but he (erroneously) believes that the lyrics aren’t safe for children, so I can only listen to some of it. Everything I’m allowed to hear, I love.
Flash-forward a few years to 2006. I am inexplicably obsessed with this band. I listen to a few other bands that I consider to be in my top tier of faves (e.g. System of a Down, My Chemical Romance), but nothing compares to the powerful sound of Linkin Park, the band who has now changed their logo (which I draw on everything).
I think about how people who recently got Linkin Park’s former logo tattooed on their skin must feel. I go through a period of time in which I’m totally convinced that I want to get flames tattooed on my wrists, just like Chester Bennington (the best rock vocalist of all time). I listen to rap now, but only Fort Minor (side project of the best and most socially conscious rapper alive, Mike Shinoda).
A year passes, but my interest still hasn’t waned. I start listening to old band demos from before Chester was in the group – before they were called Linkin Park. Hell, even before they were calling themselves Hybrid Theory. I’ve downloaded multiple versions of the Xero and Hybrid Theory demos, and I have all the releases you can find for Chester’s old projects. I think they’re the best band in the world, and there’s no convincing me otherwise. I even finish reading the last Harry Potter book while listening to a track from Hybrid Theory.
It’s 2007. It’s been seven years.
My parents divorce. My mother remarries. I date someone for the first time ever, after having made a “vow” with friends to never date until high school. It ends in tears. Love is fleeting.
But not my love for Linkin Park, which burns with the intensity of a thousand suns.
I pre-order their new live CD and video, Road to Revolution. I stay up to post the first review for it on iTunes with the username “lpfanxtreme” (which I later change to indulgent.bliss. – I am not a “cool” “kid”). I am devoted to the cause.
I love this band so much that I get every Linkin Park Underground membership box I can get my hands on. At this point in time, I have a Linkin Park beanie, a Linkin Park hoodie, a Linkin Park Underground wristband (included in the LPU8 box), and multiple Linkin Park shirts. I practically deserve a spot in the liner notes for being their biggest fan, which, I am, aren’t I?
Another year passes. My fandom is peaking, as is my inability to understand how deluded I am; not just within my status as as an LP fan, but also in my interpersonal relationships. I contextualize aspects of my life using “signs” I make myself see. I begin experiencing depression and anxiety (though I won’t see a psychiatrist until my early 20s). I make myself believe I can relate directly to the subject matter of the songs, which isn’t abnormal, but… my mental illness is beginning to shine through.
It’s at this point that I sign up for the Linkin Park Street Team. The band is playing a show in Atlanta on the very last day of my last summer vacation before I start high school, and I am determined to help promote it.
I am devoted to the cause.
Weeks later, I receive a box full of posters. On a few occasions, I stick some of the smaller ones under people’s windshield wipers in front of local businesses. The impact is immeasurable, but I feel good about myself, nonetheless. I’m in the community letting people know that God: The Band is coming to town.
August 3, 2008: The day has finally arrived. Tomorrow, I’ll be anxiously walking the halls of Luella High School, but today I’m with one of my best friends, whom I’ve known since the first grade, at the show that I’ve been waiting to go to for… well, half my life.
We bought lawn seats; after we arrive, a line forms. The venue is giving out tickets for empty seats, so we get to be even closer to the stage! It’s a miracle that I don’t shit my pants during the performance. It’s everything I expected, everything I had hoped for. After it’s over, my ears are ringing. I resume listening to my burned copy of their Atlanta set from 2007 – in the same truck I heard “In the End” as a kid. In a funny way, everything has come full circle, and, like many other insignificant things, I believe that this event signifies something important.
I don’t know it yet, but in a few months, my interest will wane. Finally, I will allow myself to fall out of love.
This process will repeat itself a few times. I slowly learn to let go of all the things I’ve clung so tightly to over the years.
The last time I remember really caring about the band is when I go on a cruise with two of my best friends (including the one who went with me to the concert). I use the ship’s internet to download my pre-ordered copy of A Thousand Suns from iTunes. Soon enough, my interest in Linkin Park will be eclipsed by, uh… better music.
In 2010, I am fortunate enough to get my own car. I don’t christen the stereo with Linkin Park; instead, I play “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails, one of the biggest bands Linkin Park borrowed from (I heard their cover of “Wish” before I ever heard the original).
It’s 2016. I’m the Web Editor for a university publication. I’ve held several jobs. Somehow, I’ve never had my own copy of Hybrid Theory. Nu metal’s kind of a meme now. It’s funny to think about how big of a Linkin Park fan I used to be, but also how it was the catalyst for my interests to diversify how they did. My favorite artists now are Why?, Death Grips, and Kanye West. Go figure.