Brent Hinds didn’t just play guitar—he made metal psychedelic and personal
Brent Hinds didn’t just play guitar—he made metal psychedelic and personal
Brent Hinds, co-founder and longtime guitarist of Mastodon, died this week in a motorcycle crash in Atlanta. He was 51. And even if you didn’t know the man, you’ve felt what he built.
There was no one like Brent Hinds. Not in style, not in sound, not in spirit. In a genre that rewards tight formulas and brutal discipline, Hinds showed up with neck tattoos, a cowboy hat, and a playing style that blurred the lines between sludge, classic rock, country licks, and space-born hallucinations. He never followed the rules. He turned tone into texture, riffs into architecture, and solos into emotional swings you didn’t always see coming.
Mastodon wasn’t just heavy because they were loud. They were heavy because their music carried weight. And Brent was a big part of that weight. Albums like Leviathan, Blood Mountain, and Crack the Skye still hold up because they never chased trends. They were built on grief, mythology, and a level of musicianship most bands can’t touch. Brent’s guitar work wasn’t about technical showing off. It was about mood, movement, storytelling. He played like he was trying to conjure something from the other side. Sometimes it felt like he did.
He wasn’t a typical frontman. He didn’t sanitize himself for the press. He wasn’t chasing mainstream approval. Brent was Brent. Raw. Unfiltered. Sometimes reckless. Always honest. He played what he wanted. He said what he meant. That’s part of what made Mastodon feel real even as they outgrew the underground and started headlining major festivals. The weird never went away. It just got louder.
He stepped back from the band in 2023. No huge announcement. Just space. A quiet shift that now feels even heavier. He didn’t vanish. He just went off the radar for a while. A musician like Brent doesn’t need to make noise every day. His past work still speaks.
His death isn’t just a loss for Mastodon fans. It’s a loss for metal that isn’t afraid to get weird, get personal, get spiritual without ever going soft. Brent Hinds didn’t play music for clout. He played because it kept something alive in him. And when you listen to those records, it keeps something alive in you too.
He died riding. That’s how he lived. Fast, full, and in motion. It doesn’t make it easier, but it does feel true.
Rest loud, Brent.
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