JPG: Stories: Photo Essay: Dad Meets Mosh

Dad Meets Mosh

By Scott Baker

19 Mar 2008

Several local heavy metal bands put together an impromptu fund-raiser for a close friend of my daughter (Jena), who is fighting for his life after being involved in a serious car accident. This wonderful young man has been at my home many times, along with some of the band members. My wife and I went to the fund-raiser, to show our support.

Being adventurous and still having an appetite for hard-core music, I had a great time. The music was very loud and rough around the edges, but it had soul. It was a small room with a low ceiling. There was enough testosterone there to blast us to the moon and back. Many of the young lads had tattoos and multiple pearcings. At first, I cringed at the thought of my little sixteen-year hanging out with this crowd.

Being a camera geek, I made my way around the room, searching for some high ground. I took care not to go near Jena and get the evil eye. Shooting pictures in low light with a lot of movement has always been a weak spot for me. But, how else am I going to learn?

Jena had described moshing to me before, but it did not prepare me for the real thing. On the surface, it seems very strange. After watching it for several songs, a pattern began to emerge. With the ebb and flow of the music, the pit also slowed and sped up. At times, it seemed to take on the characteristics of a tornado, spinning and drawing bystanders into it, then slowing back down again. There was only one precarious moment for me, standing on a chair that was suddenly on the edge of an expanding pit.

Despite my first impressions, I found the kids to be polite and helpful in my attempts to get a decent picture. I did not see much in the way of drinking or any real aggression towards anyone. In fact, I was probably safer there than some of the pool halls I have been in.

The next day, I looked up moshing on the wiki. As it turns out, the roots of moshing go back to the 70's punk rock days. I thought this was pretty cool and told Jena.

And she said......"Whatever, Dad."