But Dawes can't quite sort it out. On the one hand, she insists that black women should be able to embrace metal as a way to "express their individuality." (19) But on the other, she claims that metal is appealing because it includes "universal emotions that everyone feels." (65) She argues that metal provides a "voice for the voiceless." (19) But she never attempts to explain why that's different from, say, hip-hop, or jazz, or any number of other musics attached to subcultures that, arguably, have been more voiceless than the white guys like me who listen to metal. Finally, Dawes insists adamantly that her love of metal is not about rejecting blackness, and particularly denies that her upbringing as the adopted child of a white family is linked to her passion for the music. (67) But she also suggests that metal is a way for her to reject "hyper-sexualized images of black women in hip-hop culture." (100) She even approvingly quotes Keidra Chaney, another black female metalhead, who says that the appeal of metal for her was that it "didn't reflect my life experiences or cultural identity in any tangible way." (70)

Part of Dawes's understandable difficulty is precisely what makes her struggle interesting: the fact that there are few cultural resources for talking about minority appreciation of majority culture. If Wim Wenders wants to laud Cuban singers in Buena Vista Social Club, or Eric Clapton wants to demonstrate his love of the blues, there's a language to make sense of it: They can frame their passions in terms of authenticity, or cool, or appreciating and promoting groups that lack access to the mainstream. In contrast, as Dawes says, "When I discuss black women in the metal, hardcore, and punk scenes, the most common response from people who don't know me is a three-second pause, and then 'Huh?'"

It's a funny quip, not least because it points out just how arbitrary our assumptions are, not just about Dawes, but about folks like Wim Wenders and Eric Clapton too. Must every white man go to the same crossroads to watch the same marginalized someone sacrifice his soul on the same altar of real, real, realness? Couldn't we maybe, please, occasionally, do something else?

We could, of course—but it's more difficult than it looks. Certainly, Dawes finds it so. She namechecks a slew of bands, from Judas Priest (who she likes) to Burzum (who she doesn't) to Napalm Death, Pantera, and Testament and on and on. She talks about going to shows, about performance styles, and about what singers are wearing. She says that she likes the music because it's angry and aggressive. She wonders whether it's okay to like bands that have racist or sexist politics. But she never discusses the actual experience of listening to the music that her book is ostensibly about. What is it in Judas Priest's songs that speaks to her? For that matter, which Judas Priest songs speak to her? Does she dislike Burzum only because he's a racist asshole, or does atmospheric crusty black metal just not send her anywhere? And what connection is there between those two things, if any? We never find out.