Insert more funeral jokes.

Welcome to another edition of me telling you what is already known. So St. Anger was an utter embarrassment of tin drums and dull songwriting. After watching the album’s documentary Some Kind of Monster, I could only conclude that Lars Ulrich is one of the smuggest motherfuckers on the planet. Yes, you’re the first band ever to express anger in a positive way. Fucking innovators.

After that critical wreckage, the band assembled themselves by just regressing to their past successes. Use the same riffs as found on …And Justice For All? Extend songs minutes past their expiration point? Reintroduce solos that are technically laughable when compared to their already barely-above-average guitar output from the eighties? Check on all of the above.

Most major publications are giving it positive reviews because it’s comfortable, familiar, and infinitely better than St. Anger. But it’s pointless. If you want Metallica, throw in Master of Puppets and then stop it halfway through because all that riffing gets boring pretty damn quickly when taken into the context of today’s music. From the directions acts like Agalloch, Opeth, Cult of Luna, and Mastodon have taken metal, Metallica’s one-dimensional approach is completely irrelevant when overtaken by the musicianship and songwriting exemplified by the former. Attempts at diversity like S&M or “The Unforgiven III” are cringe-worthy.

So why bother? As Henry Rollins said, if a place has electricity, Metallica can play a sold out show. Cash! Cash! Lots of cash! Even with bad public relations stunts throw around, they can still tour the world and watch the bones roll in. As an artistic statement, this album really has no purpose. Why did I just spend four paragraphs on this? Consumerscape blogosphere!

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