Essay About Love Of Metallica And Cult Band

MetallicaEssay Preview: MetallicaReport this essayby Adrien Begrand:. e-mail this article:. print this article:. comment on this articleHonesty Is My Only ExcuseMy love of Metallicas 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 Shakespeares Julius Caesar, and the rest of the day went by in a blur of anticipatory excitement, the rest of the days 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 bands current stance against internet file sharing, Metallicas fan base was created by tape trading and word of mouth (in 1984, I heard that word of mouth, but didnt 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”). Metallicas 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 Hetfields 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 discs 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 Hetfields 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, Metallicas 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. Hetfields theme of control now centers around the horror of drug addiction: “Taste me you will see / More is all you need / Youre dedicated to / How Im 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. Lovecrafts 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 Lovecrafts protagonists 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 Keseys novel One Flew Over the Cuckoos 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.