Asif Khan Inc.

Death Magnetic – Metallica

Life certainly has a way of being attracted towards its ultimate destination – the relative velocity of attainment of that limit of course does depend on multiple factors – the inevitability, however, is something which cannot be escaped from. This probably forms one of the greatest paradoxes humankind would have come to realize witnessing countless mortals, who in their quest to live faster, have gone down quicker than they knew. Making a slight departure from this burst of pseudo metaphysic, and analysing the immediate issue at hand, irony is something which makes its presence felt when comparing what this group of thrash metallic speed-gunners came out with a few years back in the form of ‘St. Anger’ and what we have now in the form of ‘Death Magnetic’. Life long loyalists had felt the tectonic plates of their preferences shifting when they encountered the hollow snared sound on radio friendly tracks minus those excruciating solos on ‘St. Anger’, effectively sounding the death knell for one of the most heavily successful metal acts of all time. ‘Death Magnetic’ however tries to prove itself as the resurrecting force which made the Phoenix rise from its ashes, and successfully so. So what do we call this? The previous album was what signified death, the new one brings back to life aided by a Saint known to turn around dipping fortunes by kicking out all the subdued vitriolic energy, magnetism be damned because you can’t escape it. Viola, the albums could just as well have exchanged their cover sleeves! And now that we have proved ourselves worthy of insightful psychobabble to hold the end of sagging conversations, let’s examine why ‘Death Magnetic’ is actually worthy of any accolades.

To begin with, ‘Death Magnetic’ most definitely has turned out to completely raze to the ground a few of Metallica’s recent affiliations, and at least one major filial association – steel sounding snare, solo-less compunction of melody, abridged spin friendly songs, and yes, Bob Rock. The stellar producer who shaped the sound which was to achieve commercial success previously unknown to any band who dared play heavy is not on this album, but then this is the price you pay if you have to bring yourself back to life. Instead we have Rick Rubin (remember the Saint?), that demi-god of producers, the slightest mention of whose name evokes hushed awe, who took on the job of defining the sound that was to emanate out of the valleys of California this year. Ulrich seems to have found his groove back on the snare and the muffled double bass assisted blitzkriegs, Hammett finally seems to be having fun shredding to pieces all the pent up energy through these years on guitar solos which just seem to go on and on, Hetfield proves himself as a perfect foil on the rhythm sections (although the throatiness of his vocals seems to have tuned itself down a bit, but age catches up even with metalheads, doesn’t it?), and nascent Trujillo makes that till now mostly unheard bass notes stand out booming clear. Each track on this album bears that signature Metallica sound which has familiarized itself by now, starting with ‘Kill ‘em All’ right upto ‘Metallica’, and though all tracks here are equal, as with animals, some tracks are more equal than others. As soon as the intro to the first track ‘That Was Just Your Life’ commences, you immediately slip into the age old comfort of ‘Battery’ with rock solid riffs racing against time, and what follows is just as satisfyingly orgasmic. Be it the grunts on ‘Broken, Beat and Scarred’, the trailblazing on ‘My Apocalypse’ and ‘Suicide and Redemption’ or the achingly melodic ‘The End of the Line’, the stamp of ownership is crystal clear. The stamp however gets a bit more than crystal clear; enough to maybe make even a blind man perceive it, due to influential similarities with quite a few past works (‘Fade to Black’, ‘Battery’, ‘Ride the Lightning’ can be heard at many places), but that can be forgiven by viewing this as an attempt to find the lost sound.

Thus, the Gods have risen from their ashes, and the call to the faithful has been sounded – did someone ask for whom the Bell tolls?