“An Old Metalhead’s Confession: Yungblud Just Might Be the Jolt Rock Needs”
I’m the old person in the room—the guy who grew up blasting Led Zeppelin IV on vinyl, who still has cassette tapes of Ozzy’s Blizzard of Ozz and who wore out the needle on Ride the Lightning more times than I can count. My youth was a whirlwind of leather jackets, black band tees, Marshall stacks, and smoky clubs where real rock ’n’ roll felt like a religion. I lived through the reign of Alice Cooper, the rise of Metallica, the madness of Sabbath. That era? Untouchable. That sound? Eternal.
So yeah, I know what you’re thinking when I bring up a guy like Yungblud—He’s not metal. He’s pop-punk, emo, alt, whatever Gen Z is calling it this week. I get it. But I need you to stick with me for just a moment, because I stumbled across this video of Dom (aka Yungblud) performing live—and holy hell, something clicked.
This wasn’t just a kid screaming into a mic for TikTok likes or dressing weird to go viral. This was a performance. And not the kind that’s all polish and no punch. No, this was raw. Unfiltered. Chaotic. Beautifully, unapologetically alive. It reminded me of the first time I saw Ozzy live—the sweat, the danger, the feeling that anything could go wrong at any second, and that if it did, we’d all just scream louder.
Dom didn’t just walk onto that stage. He tore it down. He exploded like a Molotov cocktail of punk rage and glam swagger, with eyeliner, spiked hair, Doc Martens stomping out the beat, and a voice that cracked with urgency. It wasn’t about vocal perfection—it was about heart. About catharsis. About giving everything and then digging deeper to give more. That’s what caught me. That’s what brought me back.
See, when I watched that video, I didn’t see a new wave pretty boy trying to mimic rebellion. I saw the same fire that burned in Robert Plant’s howl. I saw echoes of James Hetfield’s sneer, of Iggy Pop’s blood-smeared chest, of Freddie Mercury commanding an arena like a god among mortals. Dom wasn’t copying those legends—he was channeling them in a way that felt sincere, even ancestral.
Yungblud’s generation didn’t get the same kind of rock and roll education we did. They weren’t raised on Sabbath and Slayer—they came up with SoundCloud, YouTube, and isolation. But maybe that’s why Dom hits differently. He’s built for this world, yet he carries the soul of the old one. His music might be laced with synths and trap beats sometimes, but it’s also soaked in rebellion. It screams about identity, alienation, mental health, and not fitting in—all things metalheads have shouted about for decades, just in different tongues.
And let’s not pretend metal never evolved. Remember when the purists lost their minds over Metallica’s black album going “mainstream”? Or when Ozzy did a track with Post Malone? Even Alice Cooper flirted with glam and new wave in the ’80s. Rock has always been a shapeshifter. The spirit remains—what changes is the language.
There’s a moment in the video—mid-song, the lights blinding, the crowd heaving, Yungblud bent over screaming like his lungs are on fire—where you feel it. That electricity. That “holy sh*t” feeling you only get from a performer who has nothing to lose and everything to say. It’s chaos, but it’s controlled. It’s ugly and gorgeous all at once. And the only thing that would’ve made it better is if someone cranked the amp to eleven.
Because that’s the magic number, right? Spinal Tap had it right all along. Ten is for the mortals. Eleven is for the mad ones.
Look, I’m not saying Yungblud’s the next Ozzy or the second coming of Dio. He’s not supposed to be. What I am saying is that, for the first time in a long time, I saw a young artist who made me feel again. Who reminded me why I fell in love with loud music and sweaty venues and screaming my lungs out with strangers who became family by the end of the encore.
It doesn’t matter if it’s metal, punk, grunge, or whatever label we try to slap on it—what matters is the pulse. The truth. The energy. And Dom’s got it.
So yeah, maybe I’m just an old rocker getting soft in my later years. Or maybe, just maybe, I know what real stage presence looks like when I see it. And I saw it in Yungblud.
Keep your ears open, my friends. The kids are alright. And if you’re lucky, they might just bring the noise back louder than ever.
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Turn it up. Break the knob. And never apologize for feeling something.Would you like to turn this into a shareable article, post, or blog piece with visuals or a title card?
