Metallica

by Adrien Begrand

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Honesty Is My Only Excuse

My love of Metallica's Master of Puppets album, which has lasted 16 years and counting, began on what was a pretty good day for a 15-year-old misfit metalhead, during what was the most miserable time of my life: high school.

It was a pleasantly mild spring weekday in early April, 1986; I had a rather routine dentists' checkup in the morning, so I got to miss the first bit of school, even managing to sleep in a bit. The visit to the dentist lasted no more than five minutes, and there was no need to hurry to school, so I ambled my way to the local mall, where I shelled out seven bucks (Canadian) for the cassette of Master of Puppets. I got to school midway through my tenth grade English class' run-through of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, and the rest of the day went by in a blur of anticipatory excitement, the rest of the day's dronings by teachers flying right over my head, as that tape burned a mighty furious hole in my jacket pocket. Racing home that afternoon, listening to the opening acoustic guitar flourishes on "Battery" segue into a majestic metallic overture, before kicking into the galloping opening riff, the entire genre of heavy metal music, as well as my appreciation of good music, was forever changed.

It may be hard for younger fans to fathom, but before the release of Master of Puppets in 1986, Metallica were largely a cult band (some may say they were a cult band before 1991), and in direct contrast to the band's current stance against internet file sharing, Metallica's fan base was created by tape trading and word of mouth (in 1984, I heard that word of mouth, but didn't believe it, all because Metallica shared its Canadian indie label with Venom, a band I hated. Hey, I was young and stupid . . .). Formed in 1981 by Danish immigrant Lars Ulrich on drums and California native James Hetfield on guitar and lead vocals, Metallica would be the one American underground metal band who would break through into the mainstream. The band was four regular slobs who despised the never-ending parade of callow hard rock bands from Los Angeles. By 1983, when lead guitarist Kirk Hammett and bassist Cliff Burton were added to the mix, the band had managed to combine the best elements of punk and early '80s British metal (bearing the comically lengthy title, the "new wave of British heavy metal"). Metallica's sound possessed the frenetic speed of the Misfits and Motorhead (but was much, much tighter), the stylistic intricacies of Diamond Head and Mercyful Fate, and the pure, all-out heaviness of bands like Venom and Black Sabbath. Added to this musical mix were Hetfield's lyrics, which avoided the more fantasy-oriented themes common in metal back then, in favor of more angry, personal topics, partly as a way to exorcise the demons of his fanatical, Christian Science upbringing.

Comprised of eight songs spanning just under 55 minutes, Master of Puppets is progressive metal of the epic variety, but there is never a moment of self-indulgence, never any repetition. Every song is effective on its own, but each one (not including the disc's instrumental) follows the same lyrical theme of control and the abuse of power. Album opener "Battery" sets the mood immediately with its spare acoustic guitar intro, its flamenco-like flourishes creating the same effect as an Ennio Morricone-scored title sequence in a Spaghetti Western, before the song explodes out of the gate. On the surface, "Battery" may seem like just another lunkheaded, fist-pumping, aggro audience-pleaser, but Hetfield's lyrics hint at fanaticism run amok: "Crushing all deceivers, mashing non-believers / Never ending potency . . . Cannot kill the family / Battery is found in me".

"Master of Puppets" remains, to this day, Metallica's most successful combination of that epic quality laced with accessible metal hooks. Possessing a classic, distorted riff by Kirk Hammett, and no fewer than five time signature changes, the song is the most scintillating eight minutes in metal history. Hetfield's theme of control now centers around the horror of drug addiction: "Taste me you will see / More is all you need / You're dedicated to / How I'm killing you". The song flies by, ranging from beautiful guitar solo harmonies, to an intense, menacing bridge anchored by Ulrich and Burton, and nimble-fingered licks by Hammett.

Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's short story "Shadow Over Innsmouth", "The Thing That Should Not Be" is a lumbering beast of a song, an exercise in midtempo heaviness, chronicling the story of Lovecraft's protagonist's battle against unearthly forces over the fate his own self, sometimes paraphrasing Lovecraft himself ("Not dead which eternal lie/Stranger eons death may die"). The comparatively mellow "Welcome Home (Sanitarium)", based on Ken Kesey's novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, perfectly meshes a trippy, chiming intro guitar riff with a scorching bridge, as if emerging from a drug-addled state to a fit of violent frenzy in five minutes.

The powerful "Disposable Heroes" is an overlooked gem in the Metallica catalog. Like the album's title track, this is another eight minute epic, but the band increases the intensity dramatically, as Ulrich's phenomenal drumming takes center stage, propelling the band along at breakneck speed, never veering out of control. Hetfield's tale of a soldier and his superiors who control his fate is gripping: "More a man, more stripes you bear, glory seeker trends / Bodies fill the fields I see / The slaughter never ends".

"Leper Messiah" targets the seedy televangelists of the mid-'80s, and although the topic was an oft-overused one by metal bands, Metallica manages to create something fresh, thanks to the band's tight performance. The instrumental