At the start of my teenage years, I discovered Nevermore, and lost a parent. As you can imagine, whatever teenage listlessness the more philosophically-inclined experience, felt generally amplified. Music dampened dark thoughts and feelings. Discovering Nevermore made all those hours on other bands seem like practice or a distraction. I'm sure people that get into instruments and later start bands feel the same. That wasn't my path, instead I found this board. I found a community of somehow like-minded people, way more concentrated than any other online community. Tastes ranged wildly, but somehow fell into the realm of unequivocally "good." That if there was nothing else we could agree on, we could agree that boundaries were there to be pushed. Metal did that. Nevermore did that. Warrel did that. It may not have exactly been that way, but it felt that way. It felt good. Which life hadn't for awhile. And at the forefront, our tastemaker, WD. He really felt like the voice of a generation. Willing to mingle with us, the unwashed masses. As Heavy Metal took center stage in my very tiny teenage life he was my Jesus, declaring, "Create your own Religion," and "Believe in Nothing." It was audacious and hauntingly rang true. Somehow Warrel's hurting words promised salvation. Almost two decades later and I couldn't really have imagined a better life, which I credit largely in part to my state of mind. In no small way shaped by acid words. I only hope the next in line to the WD Bangbus gets a fraction of the deep dicking I got as a passenger.