Exercise does a body good. It’s the message pounded into us from Kindergarten, where hyperactive children are herded into the gym and encourage to run, jump, stretch and strain for periodic intervals before they’re shuffled off to art or music or reading. However, once we’re free and clear of the standardized educational system, the decision of betterment through exercise lies solely on the self.
After far too many years of pudgy existence, I finally made the decision to better myself through exercise. This came about from a session of self-reflection/self-loathing, which resulted in me deciding that 1) I would no longer like to see my meaty manbreasts when I look in the mirror and 2) that exercising would provide me the solitude to listen to a few more albums than I normally get the chance to. Thus, on a snowy day in January, I decided to finally take a step forward in my life and start going to the gym.
I’ve been attacking my fitness (or lack thereof) in two ways: aerobic workout (which consists of me using the elliptical) and weightlifting (which consist of me pulling muscles and grunting). However, equally important to the actual physical activity of exercising is the musical accompaniment, the planning for which can actually take longer than the workout itself. In the few short weeks of self-betterment, I’ve learned several things about the music one should listen to while working out.
First of all, as much as I love powerviolence discography CDs (and believe me, I think these damn things are going to eventually cure cancer), I’ve learned that they are possibly the worst thing to listen to while using the elliptical. Across the discographies of bands like Crossed Out, Apartment 213 and Spazz, I’ll catch myself breaking into a sprint during the blastbeats and slowing down to a crawl during the sludgy-ass breakdowns that seem to pop up every 15 seconds or so. What seems to work well for running is something fast, aggressive and unrelenting. Most thrashy (and some atmospheric) black metal tends to work well, but I think I’ve had my best results with Black Flag’s Damaged. Perhaps it’s the fuck-it-all attitude of the lyrics, the absolutely pissed-off vocals or perhaps just the image of Henry Rollins kicking the shit out my fat body, but it seems like early Black Flag (as well as other early and '90s-era hardcore punk) tends to work well. A lot of straightedge hardcore bands tend to make music that works well for exercising mostly because of lyrics about “never giving in” and “not letting yourself down.” These can be interpreted not only as “don’t drink” but also “five more minutes, fatty. Keep going.”
On the other hand, I’ve found sludge metal to be perfect for lifting weights or working on the machines. The sluggish, plodding riffs and droning feedback of albums by Electric Wizard or Sleep serve as an excellent complement to the slow, deliberate strains of weightlifting. Industrial noise tends to work well in both scenarios, due to the relative absence of any beat or pace to the music, which makes it easier to move at an even pace.
I did make one mistake, though, with the music I chose to listen to one day during a particularly strenuous workout. My choice of Bloodyminded’s Gift Givers was ill-fated, not because it’s a bad album, but because of the subject matter. More than half of the tracks on Gift Givers deal with eating disorders and body image problems from the perspective of those affected by them. While it’s an excellent album, it’s disheartening and strangely ironic to hear songs whose lyrics consist of screamed choruses of “The thinner the winner” and “The best little anorexic girl in the world” while powering through the “fat burning" section of the treadmill LED display.
Maybe someday I’ll find the perfect album that suits all of my workout needs. For now, though, I’ll be content to play the guessing game with albums that will inspire me to get physical.
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