Lou Reed & Metallica: LuLu 2011

This album is getting killed on the inter-webs. The folks over at Blabbermouth are having a field day, the comment board on MetalSucks is blowing up with Metalli-hate, and the Gossip Board at Metal Sludge is doing more of the same.

I get it.

This pairing is inherently odd and not for everyone. I would venture a guess that most metalheads don’t listen to Lou Reed and vice versa. The avant garde, poetic musings of Lou Reed are in many ways the polar opposite of the testosterone-filled tough-guy machismo of Metallica’s brand of heavy metal music.

They made the album anyway.

LuLu is challenging, noisy, beautiful, atmospheric, ethereal, and at times a total train wreck. It is also fascinating and frequently emotionally powerful. There are moments when LuLu sounds like Metallica, forty years into the future, being fronted by an elderly James Hetfield, who has a drinking problem and just suffered a stroke. For example, Mistress Dread sounds like Metallica, bashing out Hit the Lights, with some insane old man on lead vocals, randomly babbling about bleeding and fucking. This is when LuLu does not work — when the song is simply Metallica being Metallica, and Lou Reed being Lou Reed, both playing two different songs on the same song. Does that make sense?

However, when Metallica abandon their stock riffage in favor of more open arrangements and really stretch out musically into uncharted territory, LuLu becomes captivating — even breathtaking. This is when LuLu sounds less like a collaborative juxtaposition of diametrically opposed musical forces, and more like one cohesive band. The best example is Little Dog, a sprawling, open composition that is surprisingly poignant and vulnerable.

It seems to take LuLu a while to find its legs. The last half of the album is much stronger than the first. Frustration, the aforementioned Little Dog, Dragon, and Junior Dad are easily the albums highlights. Iced Honey sounds like the most obvious attempt to recreate a classic Velvet Underground track and is the closest LuLu comes to commercial music. 

Lou Reed’s lyrics and delivery will be off-putting to many. However, if you enjoy the likes of Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, and even the poetic ramblings of Jim Morrison, you’ll probably be O.K. with it. Metalheads are not. There are already fan made versions of LuLu without Lou Reed’s vocals popping up online.

LuLu is not for everyone. It is pretentious and self-indulgent. It is also worth a listen. I write a metal blog, but I am not exclusively a metalhead. I listen to almost everything, sans polka and most pop music. I may be the only person alive who actually enjoys LuLu. I even like it better than Metallica’s most recent studio effort, Death Magnetic, which I thought bordered on self-parody and sounded stock. I am certain that participating in this project will in some way influence Metallica’s next record. Metallica really needs to put their energy into making a good Metallica record, so I don’t know if that is necessarily a good thing. I can’t really recommend LuLu because I know most people will hate it. However, if you enjoy coffee house poetry, cinematic soundscapes, and Enter Sandman, you might find LuLu worth your while. 7.5/10

Overkill: Ironbound 2010

The “Big 4” of thrash metal — Metallica, Slayer, Megadeth, & Anthrax, just played Yankee Stadium a couple weeks back to wrap up their exhaustive two date North American Tour. Word is, in the Twitter-verse and elsewhere on the inter-webs, the show was a smashing (thrashing?) success. A little slice of heavy metal heaven for old-school ‘80’s thrash fans, if you will.

Now, I don’t want to throw a wet blanket on anyone’s devil horns, but this tour, while admittedly novel, feels about twenty years too late. Twenty years ago these bands were a four-headed monster of metal mastery, riding a career-defining wave of records like Rust in Peace, Persistence of Time, Seasons in the Abyss, and Metallica’s self-titled juggernaut. Fast forward to 2011 and the song is not quite the same. Slayer has morphed into a satanic AC/DC, effectively releasing the same record over and over again. Anthrax has suffered more lead singer & line-up changes than 80’s era Black Sabbath. Megadeth flirted with radio-friendly rock and alienated their core fans in the process. Finally, Metallica’s self-indulgent excursions into the musical wilderness of radio-rock, orchestral collaborations, and whatever the hell St. Anger was have ultimately left their fans exhausted and apathetic. Even an attempt to recreate past glory with 2008’s Death Magnetic came up lame.

One has to wonder are these guys even worthy of the “Big 4” moniker anymore?

I would submit, that the true “Big 4” of 80’s thrash metal is now Exodus, Testament, Death Angel, and Overkill. All of which are releasing contemporary thrashter-pieces that are among the best albums of their careers. Which brings us to the subject of today’s lengthy diatribe — Overkill’s 2010 magnum opus, Ironbound.

I honestly don’t know how to review this record. It really is as close to perfect as a thrash metal record can be. The opening track, The Green and Black is a microcosm of the album as a whole. It is an amazing track. A pummeling 8:12 minutes of metal featuring amazing vocals, thunderous drums, tight execution, sophisticated song writing, crisp modern production, incredibly fluid and tasteful lead work — I’m gushing.

It’s awesome.

Lead singer, Bobby "Blitz" Ellsworth gives a Herculean performance on this album. He sings high, low, menacing, and with a personality and energy that is all too often missing from modern metal. He sounds better than the “Blitz” I remember from the Overkill records of my youth. Simply put, his voice is badass.

Every track is a highlight. There are a few riffs that will remind you of other metal songs (Bring Me the Night borrows a riff from Diamond Head’s Helpless, Metallica’s Phantom Lord can be found in another), but the album is so damn good that you will forgive this minor transgression.

Overkill is one of those blue-collar bands that have been around forever but for whatever reason have not achieved superstardom. They have to tour. They have to write records. They have to grind it out year after year. They make enough money to avoid flipping burgers, but not enough to go on an extended hiatus or to become complacent. Maybe that is why their records are so damn good. They have to deliver to keep working. They don’t have the luxury of financial freedom that super-duper success would bring. They can’t afford to coast on past success and wallow in mediocrity album after album.

I listened to my share of Overkill in high school when I was a young, metal pup. However, through the years I lost track of them. Ironbound has succeeded in bringing me back into the fold.

I can’t wait to hear what they do next. 9.8/10

Megadeth: Peace Sells... But Who's Buying 1986

Somewhere along the way my hard rock and heavy metal musical tastes evolved. Like a beer drinker who now needs to smoke a little weed to get him where he needs to be, I found that as I grew older the hard rockin’ thump of AC/DC just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I needed something more. I had been introduced to Metallica by a fellow high school burnout who loaned me a cassette of Master of Puppets. I thought it was badass. I asked Santa Claus (mom) for Ride the Lightning and … And Justice for All for Christmas that year. Santa came through and as a result Metallica quickly replaced AC/DC as my favorite band. By this time I had purchased every album that AC/DC had put out to date. I loved me some AC/DC. Metallica however, was on another level. The music was heavy, fast, and dynamic. The lyrics dealt with real issues, not simply getting laid. That was always the inherent problem with listening to cock rock as a teenage boy; nobody was fucking me. I might as well of been listening to music about unicorns, leprechauns, and the tooth fairy because for this pizza-faced teenager, sex simply wasn’t in the realm of reality. Metallica wrote entire albums about alienation, revenge, manipulation, anger, & death. These were topics that spoke to me. I could relate. Music would no longer be something that just sounded great — now it expressed my feelings — feelings I lacked the maturity to express or even understand on my own. I had a voice.

Soon all of my friends were hooked on this unbelievably heavy underground band. We would scour the rock magazines and newspapers for any little detail about the band that we could dig up. The internet as we know it, did not exist. We knew that they just lost their original bass player to an unfortunate accident. We knew that they had just blown the mighty Van Halen off of the stage at The Monsters Of Rock. We also came to find out that they had fired their original lead guitar player and that this red-headed ne’er-do-well was now fronting his own band of thrash metal degenerates — Megadeth. The legend of Dave Mustaine was growing. As teenage kids without any real, credible source of information, Dave Mustaine’s departure form Metallica became the metal equivalent of Greek mythology. The story changed depending on whom you talked to.

It wasn’t long before I got my hands on a dubbed cassette copy of Dangerous Dave Mustaine’s second attempt at Metalli-revenge, Peace Sells… But Who’s Buying. I loved it. I can remember listening to it on my Walkman everyday on the way to and from school. It was heavy and fast like Metallica, but darker. The songs were more challenging to the listener. Master of Puppets was instantly memorable because of the hook in the chorus; ”MASTER, MASTER!” Peace Sells didn’t have obvious hooks. The song writing was complex… even jazzy at times. You had to want to like this album because it was going to take a few listens to click. For the most part Megadeth eschewed traditional verse-chorus, verse-chorus song structure on Peace Sells. For example the opening track, Wake Up Dead, kicks right in with eight lines of vocals, then nothing until the middle part of the song after several lead guitar solos and time changes. There is not any discernible attempt at a chorus. The same can be said of the second track, The Conjuring. No chorus whatsoever, just verses that continue to build. It isn’t until track three that we get anything resembling traditional song structure. Peace Sells, isn’t just a song, it’s an anthem.

”Whaddya mean I aint kind? I’m just not your kind.”

The lyrics are spit out in Mustaine’s unique sarcastic delivery. Many fans are put off by Dave Mustaine’s vocals. He does not possess the macho bark of a James Hetfield or Tom Araya. Dave’s vocals are closer to the punk rock snarl of Jello Biafra or Johnny Rotten, with a little Alice Cooper mixed in for good measure. Political and poignant, Peace Sells would become the trademark Megadeth track. Dave Ellefson's signature bassline would serve as Kurt Loder's MTV News intro music for years.

Devil’s Island follows and is as close to a traditional thrasher as this album will get. Good Mourning/Black Friday is the albums centerpiece. A brilliantly executed (pun intended), and morbid tale of a serial killers exploits, the track features some incredible lead work from virtuoso guitarist, Chris Poland as well as some frantic and jazzy drumming courtesy of the late Gar Samuelson. Like Wake Up Dead and The Conjuring, Black Friday avoids a traditional chorus, that is unless you consider Mustaine shouting “I’m out to destroy and I WILL CUT YOU DOWN” a sing-along chorus. Bad Omen, a cover of I Ain’t Superstitious, and My Last Words (a song about Russian Roulette) round out the album in glorious thrash metal fashion. Again, the material is dark. These are not happy campfire songs, unless the aforementioned campfire is taking place in hell.

For guitar players, Peace Sells is a veritable cornucopia of riffing and lead work to worship and digest. At the time, in what I’m sure was intended to ruffle the feathers of the mighty Metallica, Megadeth branded themselves ”The World’s State-of-the-Art Speed Metal Band.” They earn the title on Peace Sells. A band of lesser skill would simply be unable to perform this particular collection of Megadeth songs.

After my introduction to Megadeth via Peace Sells, Metallica quickly and quietly fell to number two on my list of favorite bands. I could just relate to Megadeth more. Rooting for Metallica is like rooting for the Yankees or Apple. It’s easy. They always win. Megadeth however, are perennial underdogs. I can relate to getting fired and having to start over. I've been there. I can relate to bad decisions and equally bad behavior. I can certainly relate to regret. I understand the desire for revenge — the motivation it instills. I get it.

In 1986, Peace Sells was Megadeth’s declaration of war. Despite being asked to leave, Dave Mustaine wasn’t going anywhere. 9.5/10

AC/DC: Blow Up Your Video 1988

Every red-blooded American boy’s journey into Heavy Metal uber-fandom has to start somewhere. For this young lad, that starting place was none other than a hard rockin’ band of Aussie’s named AC/DC.

I cut my teeth on that shit.

If memory serves right, the first AC/DC cassette I ever bought was Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. I bought it at an ACME grocery/department store in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. My mom would take my brother and I with her to go grocery shopping. I would beg her to let me break away and visit the music department. Once there, I would stare at the album covers, the illustrations, the wild, pointy logos — I could only imagine what the music inside must sound like.

Wasting time in the music store was one of the few things in my childhood that I truly loved. I would keep lists of cassettes that I wanted to buy. AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Pink Floyd, Def Leppard, all made the cut. However, once I purchased Dirty Deeds, all those other bands had to take a backseat. I had found my favorite band. The best part was, by that time AC/DC were already over ten years into their career and had amassed an impressive back catalog for me to discover. Let There Be Rock, Powerage, Highway to Hell, Back in Black, all awaiting my anxious discovery. It didn’t take long for me to get caught up. That was what was so special about the release of Blow Up Your Video. It was going to be the first new AC/DC album that I ever bought. I couldn’t wait.

Blow Up Your Video really gets slagged by AC/DC and hard rock fans on the internet. That always shocks me. How could these trolls not be hearing what I hear? The most common complaint is that the album has too much filler. I disagree. I think every track is a winner and certainly as a whole, the album is more consistent than much of the Brian Johnson era output, with the obvious exception of Back in Black. Even today, I would argue that Blow Up Your Video is that last truly great AC/DC album.

The album kicks off with the lead single and modest hit, Heatseeker. I can remember the t-shirts for this song in the record stores back then, they depicted Angus Young straddling a giant missile with all the phallic subtlety of a hog dog going into a doughnut. The second track and single is an old school AC/DC foot stomper called, That's the Way I Wanna Rock 'n' Roll. It’s in this song that AC/DC proclaims their desire to “blow-up” MTV and the music video culture that had transformed the record industry in the eighties. AC/DC wanted their rock-n-roll simple and to the point — free from the image obsessed trends that MTV and record labels had cultivated. Meanstreak follows, and is a nifty, bluesy, number that suits Brian Johnson’s nicotine ravaged pipes nicely. In fact, it should be noted, that this is probably Brian Johnson’s last truly great vocal performance to be entered into AC/DC’s catalog before his voice finally succumbed to years of abuse. Kissin’ Dynamite is one of my favorite tracks. It has a dark, nihilistic feel, which is unique for a band whose music is typically upbeat. Some Sin for Nuthin’ shares a similarly dark vibe, but is more bluesy in nature. Two’s Up has an epic feel and fits nicely on the later half of the album. The albums closer, This Means War is as close to speed metal that AC/DC will ever get. It is a relentlessly upbeat track that features a sick riff that sounds like a combination of Highway to Hell’s Beatin’ Around the Bush and The Razors Edge’s Thunderstruck.

Top to bottom Blow Up Your Video is classic AC/DC. The choruses are well written and avoid the hard rock cliché of simply repeating the title of the song four times. Angus’s leads are standard issue Angus, but seem to feature more pinch harmonics than usual — think Billy Gibbons of ZZTop. As the first “new” AC/DC album I ever bought back in 1988, it exceeded my expectations and got me through many trips to and from school on my Walkman. For me, this record really cemented AC/DC into “favorite band” status.

As a pre-teen, I can remember actually asking my mom if she cared that I listened to, and had purchased a copy of Highway to Hell. She didn’t. I knew that AC/DC’s music was questionable listening for a young person like myself at the time. I suppose I was looking for some affirmation or perhaps even permission to pursue my love-affair with AC/DC. With a mother’s permission granted, I dove head-first into the sweaty, beer-soaked waters of AC/DC. Maybe I’m not qualified to write an objective AC/DC review. If it helps my credibility any, I felt that 2001’s Stiff Upper Lip and 1995’s Ballbreaker each had a handful of sub-par tracks. But Hell, I’d rather listen to a shitty AC/DC track than the best song Nickleback ever wrote. Blow Up Your Video rocks. Fuck you, internet h8trs. 9/10

Guns-n-Roses: “The Spaghetti Incident?” 1993

I am alone in my love for this album.

After the bloated self-masturbatory slab of egomaniacal cheese that was Use Your Illusion I & II,  1993’s The Spaghetti Incident? felt like a return to form for the once untouchable G’n Fuckin’R. As the first post-Nirvana Guns-n-Roses album, The Spaghetti Incident? was born during the height of the grunge rock movement — a movement that rejected everything the eighties stood for; greed, fashion, excess, blind consumerism, Reagan-era nationalism and top-down economics. In some respects, I think the album was an unsuspecting victim of the era in which it was released. Guns-n-Roses — a band of street trash that hit the big time — went from being the only band that mattered in the late eighties to being poster-children for corporate excess and conceited rock star arrogance. Much of this was their own doing (or more specifically, Axl Rose’s). Ill-advised MTV mini-movie music videos for November Rain and Estranged were beyond ridiculous and not befitting a snot-nosed, drug-addled L.A. rock band.  The videos took the edge off of GnR’s bad ass-ery and transformed them to uber-rich, elitist, Hollywood celebrities. Fans who longed for the Appetite for Destruction GnR, now had to endure daily tabloid headlines and narcissistic music videos detailing the rollercoaster relationship between Axl Rose and supermodel, Stephanie Seymour.

In short, GnR became Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

It’s no wonder Generation X jumped ship and bought Nevermind.

The Spaghetti Incident? is a covers album comprised mostly of punk songs. This might seem like an odd choice to the often narrow-minded GnR metal-head fan base, but the punk format stripped GnR back down to its essence, and the band is better for it. Gone are the excessive orchestrations and indulgent arrangements that plagued Use Your Illusion I & II. Instead the band wisely embraces their punk rock influences and cover songs by the likes of The Dead Boys. The Damned, and New York Dolls.  The result is a re-energized Guns-n-Roses reminiscent of the early Live! Like a Suicide era of the band.

The lead vocals on The Spaghetti Incident? are often split between Axl Rose and Duff Mckagan. They even share lead vocals on The Stooges classic, Raw Power. Their cover of U.K. Subs, Down on the Farm is loaded with attitude and is equally hilarious as Axl adopts a phony British accent. The best track on the album is a cover of The Damned’s Ain’t It Fun. The song just feels epic and Slash shines on lead guitar. Other stand-out covers include The Misfits (Attitude), The Professionals (Black Leather), and even 70’s radio rock staple, Hair of the Dog by Nazareth. There is also an excellent but controversial cover of Charles Manson’s Look at Your Game Girl.

The Spaghetti Incident? is Guns-n-Roses last effort before Axl went completely bat-shit crazy and fired the whole band to embark on a seventeen year journey into the depths of naval-gazing self-importance that would ultimately and eventually result in the commercial bomb that is Chinese Democracy. It’s unfortunate because what should have happened, had the rock-n-roll stars aligned, is that GnR would have rediscovered their hard rock roots as a result of The Spaghetti Incident? and went on to make Use Your Appetite for Destruction II & III. 8.5/10

Death Angel: Act III 1990

This album is criminally underrated.

The third record by California thrash band, Death Angel, is aptly titled Act III.  It is a stunning effort and represents tremendous growth for the band in every way — song writing, performance, lyrics, and musical diversity — from their previous two releases, 1988’s Frolic Through the Park and 1987’s The Ultra-Violence. Standout cuts like Why You Do This and Bored off of Frolic Through the Park hint at what was to come, but even the most enthusiastic Death Angel fan could not have anticipated the gigantic leap that is Act III. 

Act III opens with the sound of waves crashing on the beach before the band crashes into Seemingly Endless Time, its thrashing opening track. Like all of the tracks on Act III, Seemingly Endless Time doesn’t just thrash, it boasts a stellar vocal performance, well-crafted hooks, and memorable leads courtesy of guitarist Rob Cavestany. Simply put, he is one of the most underrated players in metal. Following Seemingly Endless Time is another Death Angel thrasher titled Stop. The band really shines on this song. The rhythms are barreling along at a million miles per hour but still effortlessly stop, start, and shift tempo. Mark Osegueda’s lead vocals are incredible and work particularly well during choruses when the band, who knows how to write a hook laden backing vocal, sings along. 

On the third track, Veil of Deception, Act III takes an unexpected turn. An acoustic number with incredible lead and backing vocals, Veil of Deception grabs you at the first listen. The guitar playing is tasteful and mature in execution. The vocal harmonies elevate the track and separate Death Angel from many of their harmonically challenged peers. Death Angel should also be applauded for having the guts to insert such a diverse track into Act III a mere nine minutes into the album. Typically, bands bury these kind of musical diversions deep within a records track list, almost as if they are embarrassed of their own experimentation.

The Organization and Discontinued follow and return Act III to its rightful, thrashy, disposition. Once again, catchy, gang-chant backing vocals make each song instantly memorable. The next track, A Room with a View, was a minor MTV hit and the band enjoyed frequent exposure on Headbanger’s Ball. A ballad that once again showcases the bands ability to pull off thoughtful, well-crafted songwriting, A Room with a View demonstrates musical maturity beyond their respective years. Once again Rob Cavestany’s lead guitar shines.

The second half of Act III is equally as strong as the first. Stagnant, X-TC, Disturbing the Peace, and album closer Falling Asleep all kill. Act III is strong from start to finish. There isn’t a bad cut on the album; in fact most are downright great. The album thrashes, but adeptly shifts gears. The album is diverse, but is never a challenge to the listener. When I listen to Act III, I am always amazed that the album didn’t propel Death Angel to superstardom. Two years later Metallica would become the first thrash band to break into the mainstream with the “Black” album. For my money, Death Angel beat them to the punch. 9.5/10

Metallica: Death Magnetic 2008

For many in Generation Y their first exposure to Metallica was probably Enter Sandman or Until It Sleeps. That thought just blows my mind. As a proud, card-carrying member of Generation X, I grew up with a very different Metallica. My Metallica was a band that you did not hear on the radio or see on MTV. They did not release albums with lofty commercial expectations. They rejected their peers in the music industry. They mocked them. They viewed themselves as fans that happened to be on stage. Their stage clothes consisted of tattered blue jeans, unwashed hair, and bad acne. Their bass player was still wearing bell-bottoms in 1986. Their sound was both uncompromising and trail blazing. They were at the forefront of a new strain of metal music that would become known as Thrash. Unlike eighties hair metal, this new music bore no resemblance to Chuck Berry’s rock-n-roll. It was a fusion of underground European metal and hardcore punk. All speed, no swing. Their tapes circulated around my high school like a bag of skunk weed or a lesbian porno. It was contraband. For this introverted and misunderstood teen, Metallica was dangerous and taboo. It was must have music.

Then came 1991 and everything changed.

Metallica became the mainstream.

After seventeen years of radio airplay, music videos, award ceremonies, magazine covers, photoshoots, interviews, documentaries, major motion pictures, soundtracks, therapy sessions, rehab, tribute albums, line-up changes, and enough self indulgent musical experimentation to make Styx blush, Metallica have allegedly returned to their roots with 2008’s Death Magnetic. The results are mixed.

The album starts off with a heartbeat as if to indicate that the Metallica of old are still alive and are just seconds away from reemerging from an almost two decade slumber. The beating heart segues directly into That Was Just Your Life, an at times thrashy number that features James Hetfield almost rapping (!) the lyrics. The End of the Line follows and is, in my opinion, the best track on the album. The track features all the trademark riffing one would expect from classic Metallica and boasts several dynamic shifts in tempo and mood. The third track is also the albums first single — The Day That Never Comes starts off by borrowing liberally from 1984’s Fade to Black and concludes by essentially rewriting 1988’s One. It’s a good song but seems a bit too familiar. It’s also on this track that the most problematic aspect of Death Magnetic is most evident...

Clipping.

When the chorus of The Day That Never Comes kicks in you will start to wonder if you’ve blown a speaker. Fear not, your stereo is fine. It’s the song that sucks. Or more specifically, the songs post production. You have just fallen victim to The Loudness Wars. Much has been written about The Loudness Wars online, I’m not going to rehash it here. You can research it yourself. But to make a long story boring, music has been mastered at increasingly higher volumes for the past twenty years, thus resulting in a product that while louder, sacrifices dynamics and range. Oh... and it clips.

Death Magnetic makes your speakers sound like they are farting. Which coincidentally is what 1988’s ...And Justice for All made my speakers do too. Just check out the intro to the track Eye of the Beholder. Which begs the question -- how can one of the wealthiest and most successful bands in the world consistently put out records that sound like shit? Death Magnetic is clipped beyond the threshold of enjoyable listener-ship, ...And Justice for All had zero bass guitar but somehow still managed to make my speakers fart, and 2003’s St. Anger was a complete creative and audible abortion. Do they even care? I seriously have to wonder. I saw Metallica in concert on the Death Magnetic tour. Kirk Hammet managed to butcher the iconic intro solo to Fade to Black. It’s a song he’s probably played a million times since its release in 1984. Sometimes I think they are just going through the motions.

Sonics aside, Death Magnetic starts out strong through four tracks and then fades the rest of the way. We are given a completely unnecessary third part to the Unforgiven. The chorus reminds me of Creep by the Stone Temple Pilots and James actually sounds bored singing it. Cyanide and The Judas Kiss sound like Load era tracks. Suicide & Redemption is okay, but easily becomes their fifth best instrumental behind Orion, The Call of Cthulhu, Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth), and To Live is To Die. The closing track, My Apocalypse is my least favorite. It sounds like a forced rewrite of 1986’s Damage Inc.

Death Magnetic has its moments and is definitely Metallica’s strongest effort in over a decade. Unfortunately for Metallica, they will always be both blessed and cursed by the strength of their own early legacy. They have coasted on the success of their first four landmark albums for nearly twenty years. They have used their legendary stature as creative license to explore whatever misguided musical whim they please. They have tested their fans loyalty and with Death Magnetic, they hope to win them back. Perhaps with the muscular production of Master of Puppets they might have succeeded. Instead we have the fuzzed out and over-cooked clip job that is Death Magnetic, leaving this fan to wonder if they even care. 6.5/10