A profound curiosity about the powerful connection between Indigenous peoples and the visceral energy of heavy metal music propelled a journalist on a quest for understanding, initially seeking to join the Western tour of the Native black metal band Blackbraid. The aim was to interview Indigenous metal enthusiasts at stops in Salt Lake City, Seattle, and Portland, hoping to capture a representative cross-section of this subculture. However, Blackbraid’s understandable request to forgo press during their tour left the journalist seeking alternative avenues to explore this unique cultural intersection.

An serendipitous opportunity arose when a fellow journalist and metal aficionado, Leah Sottile, introduced the idea of the "Fire in the Mountains" festival. This led to a connection with educators at Buffalo Hide Academy in Browning, Montana, who were pioneering an innovative heavy music symposium for Piikunii teenagers. This program, in its inaugural year, introduced students to the worlds of hardcore and heavy metal, sparking a realization that the story held far greater depth than initially anticipated. The curriculum and the festival were meticulously orchestrated, even incorporating internships for students to assist in running the event, all with the overarching goal of supporting Indigenous youth grappling with immense pressure and suicidal distress.

The personal resonance of suicide prevention underscored the importance of this endeavor, fueling a desire to encourage these young individuals to persevere. The prospect of visiting the classroom and witnessing the students’ engagement with heavy music, alongside attending the festival to finally connect with a concentration of Indigenous metalheads, was immensely appealing.

The "Fire in the Mountains" festival proved to be an exhilarating reporting experience, albeit one marked by considerable challenges. Days were long and arduous, often stretching to fourteen hours, and the sheer number of individuals to interview presented a significant undertaking. Amidst this demanding schedule, the journalist had the opportunity to witness an impressive array of musical performances, though the exhaustion and demands of reporting meant some sets were regrettably missed. The initial approach involved directly engaging attendees, asking, "Hey, are you an Indigenous metalhead? Can I interview you for a magazine?" The overwhelming openness and willingness of people to share their stories, even when discussing the profound impact of suicide on their lives, friends, and families, was deeply moving. These were not merely statistics; they were tender narratives of grief, resilience, and the life-affirming power of music. Between sets, the journalist actively sought out Indigenous musicians, some already held in high regard, others who would soon become new favorites. Evenings at the Two Medicine Grill in East Glacier Park provided a space for informal conversations with locals and festival-goers, facilitated by photographer Russel Daniels, which offered a broader perspective on the influx of metal enthusiasts converging on the small Montana town. The wealth of material gathered presented a delightful, yet formidable, challenge in structuring the narrative.

The editing process for this particular story was a substantial undertaking. Initial plans to incorporate statistical data on suicide were ultimately discarded, as the cold, clinical presentation of numbers felt dissonant with the deeply human and emotional core of the subject matter. The focus shifted to the lived experiences and personal testimonies. A particularly impactful moment occurred during a lakeside panel discussion where musicians candidly articulated how heavy music had served as a source of solace and empowerment. The transcript of this panel alone offered a treasure trove of moving, insightful, and often humorous reflections, making the selection of a few poignant quotes a difficult editorial decision.

For instance, Ivar Bjørnson of the band Enslaved offered a compelling observation on contemporary societal suspicion and fear, contrasting it with the potential for connection within the metal community. He noted the prevalent sentiment that people would rather encounter a bear in the wild than a stranger, deeming this attitude "fucking horrible." Bjørnson advocated for a more open and curious approach, akin to the metal scene, where encountering another human being is met with enthusiasm and a desire to learn about diverse backgrounds. Similarly, Chelsea Wolfe contributed valuable insights into the detrimental effects of Western culture and the essential human need to acknowledge and express sorrow when necessary.

An earlier draft had included a scene depicting a listening party on a hillside overlooking a breathtaking vista. Approximately two hundred metal fans gathered to be among the first to experience the new album "Blackbraid III" prior to its official release, followed by a question-and-answer session with frontman Jon Krieger. A brief mention of Region Sauvage, the catering company that provided barbecued duck and buffalo for ticketed lunches, also highlighted a particularly resonant quote from chef Thomas Fitzgerald: "we’re not a cattle country." This statement, delivered with understated power, underscored a significant cultural and ecological distinction and was a point the journalist wished to emphasize.

However, adhering to editorial focus meant certain elements had to be omitted. These included a dramatic scene involving a thunderstorm that sent fans scattering from the stage area, humorously attributed to the "ghost of Ozzy Osbourne." Ultimately, the most critical aspect of the story remained the voices of the students and Native metal fans, their perspectives on the genre, its cultural significance, and its role in suicide prevention.

The journalist’s initial question, "Why do Natives like metal so much?" was met not with a single, definitive answer, but with a spectrum of thought-provoking theories. While a part of the journalist secretly hoped for a straightforward retort rooted in the ongoing impacts of colonization, the reality was far more nuanced and eloquent, delivered through the passionate, albeit colloquial, language of rock enthusiasts. This experience served as a powerful reminder of how reporting can challenge preconceived notions and foster mutual education.

The festival experience left the journalist with an unexpected and profound sense of hope and connection. The immediate aftermath saw a surge of writing, with paragraphs flowing through bleary-eyed emotion, interspersed with reflective walks to process the transformative nature of the event. The endeavor to translate this profound emotional experience for readers became a central focus. This particular piece of writing felt exceptionally close to the journalist’s heart, with the hope that readers would find it equally engaging and impactful. For those inspired to contribute to the cause, the Firekeeper Alliance is highlighted as a vital organization, offering avenues for donations, social media engagement, and the purchase of merchandise. Additionally, anticipation for next summer’s "Fire in the Mountains" festival is encouraged, with the possibility of future encounters among the shared passion for heavy music.