The year is 1509, and life is alright. You’re farming delicious, non-GMO corn on a small fief in the peaceful English countryside, and the hip, youthful King Henry VIII has just taken the throne. Your landlord is kind of an asshole, but you steal a flagon of his shitty moldy ale every night to stick it to him. On Friday nights, you pop down to the tavern with your buddy from the next farm over who, despite his hideous breath, is a pretty fun hang. There’s a resident lute, recorder, and hurdy-gurdy trio who absolutely shred. Sometimes the music is hard to hear over the clamor and clanking of stone mugs, but it’s a good scene.

One Friday, your farmer pal pulls you outside behind the public house and asks if you want to hear some real music. This is some powerful shit, he warns you. He produces a ring-shaped contraption that fits around your skull, with two comfy cups that cover your wax-packed ears. He presses a button, and suddenly, a molten lava flow of sound blasts through the inch-thick layer of dirt and earwax in your puny canals. There are thundering, ungodly sounds, tones like the sound of hammer on steel at the blacksmith’s, and melodies that seem passed down from the pagan demons of old. It’s “Angelic Fabrications” by Toronto death metal band Tomb Mold. Your brain flickers with all sorts of chaos and horrible premonitions, and your heart thumps and races like a jackrabbit. Is death drawing near? Maybe...