Sweet sax jams hang in the air like bad B.O. as you survey generic big-city B-roll. You’re led to a concert venue. Inside, a crowd cheers. You see the silhouette of the singer. Strange. The lights come up and fans jump to their feet. You hear the crunch of Lizzy Borden’s “Me Against The World.” Cue close-ups of the band’s members: Oh shit, this is not Lizzy Borden…you think? Wait, who has seen Lizzy Borden? Maybe it’s Lizzy Bor-oh shit, these things are not…human? Barf, Maybe Lizzy Borden looks like Bodies: The Exhibition displaying Peppa Pig. Oh shit, here comes the pre-chorus hook: “BECUZ I AM FOR REEEEEAAAAL!” Great, that’s stuck in your head. Cut to a spellbound gentleman viewing the set from outside the venue. He’s quickly arrested for, uh, stuff. Hello, Sarah Koenig, there has been a miscarriage of justice. As the offending voyeur is dragged away, his accuser opens the doors and is stampeded by demonic patrons. They better have hand stamps for reentry. Damn. Is this a dream? A nightmare? Did you lose your mind after making an incomprehensible string-theory yarn chart about Amorphis? No. You’re watching the beginning of Black Roses, maybe the most metal of the ’80s heavy me...