Death Magnetic
METALLICA
(Warner Bros.)
People who suffer from acute anxiety are often stalked in dreamland by a faceless marauder. Victims awaken breathing hard, clutching sheets wet with their own cold perspiration. Metallica vividly relates these perils in "All Nightmare Long," the eight-minute linchpin of the metal gods' spectacular comeback album, Death Magentic. It's similar in theme to "Enter Sandman," from the band's 1991 self-titled commercial breakthrough album (and career paralyzer), but the sonic thrust of "All Nightmare Long" recalls the heavy artillery of the band's 1980s classic thrash trilogy Kill 'Em All, Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets.
The song's slow, foreboding intro hastily gives way to a bunker-busting assault of thwack, thwack, thwack. Then James Hetfield's beastly growl surfaces, sounding as authoritative and treacherous as it did decades ago. Unlike the majority of today's metal frontmen, Hetfield makes his declarations known, with the pulverizing rhythm pausing as he barks out a clearly delivered chorus: "Feel us breathe upon your face/ Feel us shift, every move we trace/ Hunt you down without mercy/ Hunt you down all nightmare long."
The Rick Rubin-produced Death Magnetic revisits the mesmerizing speed, shred and staccato vocals that defined thrash — and Metallica — 25 years ago but with a bigger sound custom-made for arenas. The disc's start-stop dynamic results in the aural equivalent of whiplash. The time signatures shift, but there are no abrupt changes. The only instance when the band slightly loses its way is on the post-grunge-leaning "The Unforgiven III."
If someone had told me, say, three years ago that Metallica would return in 2008 with its heaviest, fastest, most effective album in a quarter century, I would have laughed in his face. In the years following 1991's Metallica, the band issued a string of lackluster albums (1996's Load, 1997's Reload and 2003's St. Anger all rank as mediocre at best), endured inner-band turmoil (see the 2004 doc Some Kind of Monster) and sometimes treated fans shabbily (Napster anyone?). It became easy to forget that Metallica's Reagan-era recordings consoled legions of disenfranchised youths by exploring timeless themes of mortality, anxiety, fear and desire.
With vintage Metallica, listeners rode shotgun with the devil, laughed along with the prince of darkness as he dealt with death and destruction. Ride the lightning, the band said, acknowledge the worst in this existence, and the pain of being a human being will lessen. With Death Magnetic, Metallica is back wielding the sonic sledgehammer of heavy metal catharsis. 4 stars —Wade Tatangelo
Harps and Angels
RANDY NEWMAN
(Nonesuch)
On his best-known material outside the film world, Randy Newman has managed to cloak biting satire in hummable melodies and sing-along choruses, resulting in first-class bait and switches, the finest being "I Love L.A." The song is a fixture at Los Angeles sports arenas despite including such lines as "Look at that bum over there, man/ He's down on his knees." On Harps and Angels, Newman's first proper album in nearly a decade, the acerbic singer/songwriter makes no effort to placate casual listeners, keeping the focus on the mostly misanthropic lyrics, which are more spoken than sung. Laidback New Orleans piano and orchestration — sometimes minimal, sometimes grandiose — accompany the singer. Newman, the guy responsible for the atheist anthem "God's Song," starts the disc by humorously second-guessing his non-belief. On the country-tinged gem "A Few Words In Defense of Our Country," Newman supports the U.S.A. by comparing our leaders to Hitler, Stalin and King Leopold — but then predicts it's the end of an empire for America. Newman concludes the album on a positive note, though, with "Feels Like Home," a love song that's as emotive as past ballads like "Love Story (You and Me)" and "Marie." The lyrics are simpler this time around, but the vocals display a sincerity rarely displayed on past Newman records. 3.5 stars —WT
This article appears in Oct 1-7, 2008.