Metallica

Death Magnetic is an enigma. It's easily Metallica's fastest and heaviest album since …And Justice For All, however it's also their most introspective offering yet. On Death Magnetic, it seems as if the band has struck a balance between the raw thrash violence of their heyday and the more emotional leanings of the past decade's output. However, that's the perfect place for the heavy metal juggernaut to be. Death Magnetic is the album that fans have been waiting for. It's a freight train of a record—driving on track, but ready to derail at any moment. Metallica have recaptured Master of Puppet's unique unpredictability, and they're as dangerous as they've ever been.

An ominous beating heart signals the beginning of "That Was Just Your Life." The song slowly builds with a chugging rhythm before exploding into a speed metal death ride. It ebbs and flows like a tidal wave, pulling Lars Ulrich's pounding percussion and Kirk Hammett's fiery fretwork back and forth violently in a torrent of distortion. At the same time, James Hetfield blasts out a sharp riff wrapped in aggression, while his trademark bark leads the assault. As he screams, "I open up just in time to say goodbye," the song takes a turn for the fast, jetting through a propulsive assault of guitars, bass and drums. Metallica come back with a bang on this opener, and all of their anger and power are in alive and kickin'.

"End of the Line" blends a bluesy groove with thrash bombardment, while James croons on the rise and fall of a star. His clean vocal break cuts through the din mid-song, and it's the perfect reprieve before the metallic carpet bombing to come. Throughout the album, especially on "Broken, Beaten, Scarred," Lars's double bass drives the sound. His drumming blends flash and feel more than ever. He can pound with attitude, but his technical talent shows through more and more. "All Nightmare Long," one of the album's standouts, feels like the soundtrack to a high-octane chase scene. The song's got Metallica's classic speed, but the hook is a purely psychotic rant that's as catchy as it is devilish. Hetfield leads the charge again, and the song seems like an unstoppable killer around the corner.

"Cyanide" and "Judas Kiss" up the stakes for progressive heavy music. Both songs are could be the sonic equivalent of the movie 300. Those two cuts bombastic and boundless in terms of structure. Metallica's once again channeled their classic orgchestral sensibility. "Judas Kiss" bears the scars of …And Justice for All, crescendoing from melodic breaks to all-out warfare. When James screams "Bow down," you can't help but listen. That raging authority is back.

Rick Rubin's production is dead-on. He's pulled tangibly powerful performances out of the four horseman. The solos simply rip on "Suicide and Redemption," and it's no doubt prodding from the big bearded record guru helped. However, just like classic closers "Damage Inc." and "Dyer's Eve," "My Apocalypse" is a blood-soaked apotheosis. As the guitars slash and burn on this last song, one thing's apparent. This moment signifies the metal gods triumphantly reclaiming their throne and destroying everything before and after them down. It's Metallica's day to rule again. Bow down.

—Rick Florino
09.12.08

Call Death Magnetic Kirk Hammett's revenge. Famously browbeaten into accepting Lars Ulrich and producers Bob Rock's dictum that guitar solos were "dated" and thereby verboten for 2003's St. Anger -- a fraught recording chronicled on the 2004 documentary Some Kind of Monster -- Metallica's lead guitarist dominates this 2008 sequel, playing with an euphoric fury not heard in years, if not decades. This aesthetic shift isn't because Hammett suddenly rules the band: powerless to add solos to St. Anger, he couldn't reinstate them without the blessing of Ulrich and James Hetfield, the politburo of Metallica. The duo suffered some combination of shame and humility in the wake of the muddled St. Anger and Monster, convincing these two unmovable forces to change direction. They ditched longtime producer Rock -- who'd helmed every album since 1991's breakthrough blockbuster Metallica -- in favor of Rick Rubin, patron saint of all veteran rockers looking to reconnect with their early spark. Rubin may be the go-to producer for wayward superstars but as the producer of Slayer, he's also rooted in thrash, so he understands the core of Metallica's greatness and gently steers them back to basics on Death Magnetic.

Of course, Metallica's basics are pretty complex: intertwined guitar riffs, frenetic solos, and thunderous double-bass drums stitched together as intricate seven-minute suites. Metallica slowly weaned themselves away from labyrinthine metal during the '90s, tempering their intensity, straightening out riffs, spending nearly as much time exploring detours as driving the main road, all the while losing sight of their identity. This culminated in the confused St. Anger, a transparent and botched attempt at returning to their roots, crippled by the chaos surrounding the departure of bassist Jason Newsted. With all their problems sorted out in public -- including replacing Newsted with Robert Trujillo, who acquiesces to the Metallica custom of being buried far, far in the mix -- the group embraces every gnarled, ugly thing they eschewed in the years since "Metallica." Death Magnetic bounces the band back to the days before Bob Rock, roughly sounding as if it could come after ...And Justice for All. Such a deliberate revival of the glory days can be tricky, as it could make a group seem stuck in the past -- or, just as badly, they can get essential elements wrong -- but Death Magnetic is a resounding success because they hunker down and embrace their core strengths, recognizing that their greatest asset is that nobody else makes noise in the same way as they do.

That's the pleasure of Death Magnetic: hearing Metallica sound like Metallica again. Individual songs and, especially, Hetfield's lyrics -- less the confessional ballast of St. Anger, more a traditional blend of angst and terror -- are secondary to how the band sounds, how they spit, snarl, and surge, how they seem alive. Metallica isn't replicating moves they made in the '80s, they're reinvigorated by the spirit of their early years, adding shading they've learned in the '90s, whether it's the symphonic tension of "The Unforgiven III" or threading curdled blues licks through the thrash. Listening to the band play, it's hard not to thrill at Metallica's mastery of aggression and escalation. There is no denying that the band is older and settled, no longer fueled by the hunger and testosterone that made their '80s albums so gripping, but on Death Magnetic older doesn't mean less potent. Metallica is still vitally violent and on this terrific album -- a de facto comeback, even if they never really went away -- they're finally acting like they enjoy being a great rock band. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide