NEW YORK — I have always hated yoga — an opinion I kept on the down low during my years as a health and fitness magazine editor. I wrote and edited countless stories instructing readers how to execute poses that would strengthen and slim them into yogic perfection, but shunned yoga in my personal life. But because I have scoliosis, doctors and physical therapists have told me that, outside of physical therapy, there’s just one thing I can do to help alleviate the back and neck pain caused by my abnormally S-curved spine: yoga.
I tried neighborhood classes, fancy-trendy classes and Groupon bargain classes and hated them all. Instead of feeling calm, I feel crowded. I hate fighting for inches of space around my yoga mat in roomfuls of people exhibiting an irritating lack of need for instruction. I hate having to hear so many strangers breathe. I feel stupid walking around with half of a yoga mat awkwardly sticking out of a canvas shopping bag, but hate the special yoga mat carrier slings even more. Despite their obvious convenience, they make their wearers look smug, with their overzealously squared shoulders and confident strides.
My disdain for these things is exceeded only by my contempt for the chimes and chanting.
So I was intrigued when I heard about Metal Yoga Bones, a yoga class set to heavy metal and death metal near my home in Brooklyn’s Bushwick neighborhood. Metal might not spring to most people’s minds when they think of centering tranquility, but I wondered if actually liking the musical backdrop in a yoga class would boost my stamina. Maybe the dark, plodding bass would spur me on as I twist into positions unnatural to my scoliosis-mangled physique. Maybe the atmosphere would be less anal-retentive than a normal yoga class. Maybe the casual approach would prove comforting for someone like me, who’s used to rubbing studded shoulders with other rock ‘n’ roll dirtbag types at punk and metal clubs.
On her website, founder and teacher Saskia Thode says that her Vinyasa classes are welcoming to students of all levels. But I was skeptical that metal yoga would be much different from traditional yoga, aside from the music. Was it just one in a long line of gimmicks, like dog yoga, pot yoga, naked yoga, laughing yoga? Would metal yoga prove to be the same “namaste” snootery I was used to, just with tattoos and devil horns?
From the beginning, there were signs that metal yoga was going to be different. Metal Yoga Bones is inexpensive on the yoga spectrum, just $13 for a 90-minute class. (I liked it already!) It’s hosted by the Cobra Club bar in a dim back room. As I waited for the instructor, I stood near a giant video game that lets players shoot and kill deer that turn into zombies.
The yoga room, which doubles as a stage area for live music, was windowless with red walls. Thode, the instructor, is originally from Germany and is toned like most yoga teachers. But like fewer yoga teachers, she is covered in tattoos and wears a blond braid that hangs past her butt.
She began our class in a familiar way, instructing her students to sit squarely on our mats and take deep breaths, with our eyes closed. Then Thode veered off script: Let those stresses go, she instructed, with a few deep breaths — and some loud growling and barking.
Then the guitars started to blare: “Tormenter” by W.A.S.P., “Feel the Pain” by Obituary, “Forever Blind” by At the Gates, and other metal tracks.
Thode accented the class with some allusions to metal culture that made yoga a little more relatable. As we raised our arms high, she shouted, “Make your devil horns!” The gesture — extending my pinkies and index fingers, while holding down my middle two digits with my thumbs — felt more empowering than any warrior pose ever had. Near the end of class Thode challenged us each to do our best evil laugh.
Lying on the floor, I noticed beer splattered on the wall. Maybe metal yoga isn’t for everyone, I thought, but it was winning me over.
