The Final Command: A Farewell from Staff Writer Chris Krovatin

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To the readers of The Pit,

I started writing for this website under the most surreal circumstances possible. It was right in the middle of the pandemic, all live shows were gone and showed no sign of coming back, and I’d had my first child a month earlier. All of sudden, there I was steering this burning ship through shark-infested waters, waking up every morning and thinking, How can I pay homage to metal, the only thing that makes any sense in this unhinged world?

Over the year and a half that followed, you joined me for the epic adventure that was being a metalhead during unprecedented times. From the loss of a generation’s brightest idol, to a power metal guitarist taking part in a historic siege on America’s capitol, to the albatross around pop-punk’s neck waging public war with a grouchy old Phantom of the Opera, to the great big pee-pee, we pushed through this fucking bonkers cultural landscape together. In the meantime, I wrote all these damn lists, got to talk to Max Cavalera. It was totally nuts, but deeply satisfying.

I’m writing all of this because today is my last day at The Pit. And while I’m really excited for the battles and parties that lie ahead of me, it’s bittersweet, because writing for The Pit was a vital part of surviving this insane year and a half. The stories I’ve covered, and the fans I’ve interacted with, have all been different from my previous jobs slinging stories about Slipknot. This felt promising, and unknown. It made me realize that if a small site like this can connect with so many people, then metal is alive and well. You didn’t come for the brand, or the prestige of the venue. You wanted metal, and I did my best to deliver.

So thank you — for every click, every comment, every obnoxious criticism and act of support for an unknown band. Thanks for reminding this grizzled old supervillain that he isn’t just living in the past. Thanks for believing, and revolting, and banging your heads.

Good luck. Celebrate metal in all parts of your life. And if you’re at a show and you see a dude who looks like a Phil Anselmo is an unemployed Hufflepuff, come on over and say hi; we’ll talk about Slayer and Dracula. May your ears ring and your fists stay clenched. I’m rooting for you, and you’re in great hands with the rest of The Pit staff.

Death to false metal,