In the new issue of Metal Hammer, Noah Sebastian addresses the toxic elements of fan culture. Frontman of rising metalcore stars Bad Omens, his band experienced an enormous increase in profile since the release of 2022’s The Death Of Peace Of Mind, their third record taking them to the top of the US Heatseekers Chart and earning millions of streams on Spotify. But there was a darker side to their success – “I’ve seen these accounts that collect baby pictures of me they find on a distant relative’s Facebook,” he reveals. “It’s very one-sided, you know. If there was a female artist I admired and I had a collection of pictures of her as an underage child, people would probably fucking try to put me in jail.”
Sebastian isn’t alone in his frustrations, however. Earlier this week Sleep Token cleared their social accounts, following rumours of a serious privacy breach. While concrete information is scant, it was alleged online that someone had posted both the birth certificate and home address of bassist III online, contrary to the band’s wishes to remain anonymous.
A bit of further digging suggests that the band weren’t actually doxed, but that an individual online had been trying to unearth personal information about the group's various members, using platforms like Telegram to appeal for information through dubious means including hacking and following band members at shows, as well as suggesting that they had purchased the aforementioned birth certificate – though nothing was actually posted. Regardless of the potential privacy breach and issues of legality, it also presents an image of how loving music can quickly spiral out of control and turn into unhealthy obsessions.
Looking at some of the fastest-rising metal bands of the last decade - Bad Omens, Sleep Token, Ghost, Babymetal - a pattern emerges. Each has a dedicated, ultra-mobilised fanbase who have helped fuelled discourse around their respective band. And in some ways, that’s great. We’ve celebrated the fandoms of Babymetal and Sleep Token previously, and in truth, a healthy fan culture around a band seems a near necessity in 2024 with shrinking media platforms, smaller budgets and an ever-more saturated market making it harder for bands to rise above the tide.
It’s also nothing new. The term “parasocial relationship” stretches all the way back to the 50s, and the idea of obsessive fan culture is inherently baked into the DNA of rock and metal fandom, from Elvis to The Beatles, the KISS Army to Slipknot’s Maggots (and not entirely exclusive to those scenes either, as any journalist who has invoked the ire of Swifties will tell you). But as information becomes more readily available, it also presents more significant risks as we have access to the minutiae of everyday life for just about every musician we love. Therein lies the problem. Access to information is not a substitute for actual engagement and interaction and even if you listen to a band every day, go to every show and follow their every move on social media, they are not your friends. As Noah puts it: “it’s all one-sided”.
Wanting to know more about our favourite musicians is natural. Hell, music journalism wouldn’t exist without it, that urge to gain deeper insights the driving force behind so much discourse around music and a way for us to build more meaningful bonds with the music that matters to us most. At the same time, that doesn’t give us – journalists, fans, Joe on the street – carte blanche to suddenly try to unearth every private tragedy and triumph of anyone, regardless of how famous they might be.
Ultimately, musicians are just people. They might make incredible art and occasionally do incredible things, but they also fart, shit and eat just like the rest of us. And just like the rest of us, they’re entitled to privacy, and to be left alone. Don’t forget that - or you risk alienating the bands you love most.
