The Lamb of God co-founder and guitarist recalls his life in heavy metal, nearly undone by addiction.
Morton (b. 1972) recalls a relatively well-adjusted upbringing in Williamsburg, Virginia. Still, he had insecurities about his weight and making friends, which drew him to alcohol and marijuana as a teen. Music provided a healthier outlet for his anxieties, and he quickly found a home in Virginia’s punk, hard rock, and metal scenes. By the late 1990s, his band (first called Burn the Priest) worked its way from opening for Slayer and Metallica to headlining. But as the rock cliché goes, storm clouds were brewing: Morton’s alcohol consumption grew along with the band’s success, and he was soon adding Oxycodone pills to the mix. In the prologue, Morton captures the depths of his abuse: In a hotel room near Madison Square Garden, where the band was set to open for Metallica, he recalls at once wrestling with his addiction and managing the trauma of the loss of his daughter, who died from complications two days after she was born. The author is a sympathetic narrator, and his storytelling reveals a few quirks: Each chapter opens with a recollection of an influential song, typically un-metal tracks by R.E.M., the Wallflowers, Son Volt, etc. Morton offers a few entertaining stories, such as an early tour with theatrical metal act Gwar and an ill-advised effort to steal poppy-plant pods from a primary school in Switzerland to feed his addiction. However, this is a fairly familiar rock memoir, replete with stinky tour buses, busted relationships, bad habits, and eventual recovery. Hardcore Lamb of God enthusiasts will appreciate Morton’s candor, especially now that he has been sober for a few years. But there’s little to surprise and appeal to readers beyond that group.
A largely by-the-numbers tale of rock excess.