52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #1

Metallica – Ride The Lightning

(Megaforce, 1984)

Buy the album here

There is no other band that could be at the top of this list. While there has been an ongoing internal struggle throughout this year concerning the album that would represent Metallica, it was always this band that would be written about on 15^th April 2018, which is, incidentally, my birthday. And as I turn 37 years old it is fitting that Metallica have been in existence for nearly every month of that time having been officially formed in October of 1981. Often credited with popularising, or even creating, thrash metal with the 1983 release of their debut Kill ‘Em All, it only took one album for the band’s ambitions to grow. Ride The Lightning stepped beyond the all-out speed, aggression, and self-reflexivity of Metallica’s first album and set a new standard in epic heavy music. The themes of injustice, war, death, and fear were more complex and personal than before. The music was more progressive, diverse in its instrumentation, and lyrically nimble, yet it was exponentially heavier than Kill ‘Em All. Whatever they had given up in overall speed had been substituted with the vicious stomp of a rhythmically pummelling riff like “For Whom The Bell Tolls”. Whatever they had lost in crowd pleasing sing-alongs like “Seek and Destroy” had been made up for by giant metal anthems like “Creeping Death”. And whatever Metallica may have gone on to miss in terms of the pure fun of a song like “Jump In The Fire”, fans of music could console themselves with the almost unbearable beauty of “Fade To Black”.

Perhaps knowing the challenge the album might pose for existing fans or thrash diehards, it opens with its most direct and aggressive song. “Fight Fire With Fire”, after its delightfully medieval acoustic guitar intro, is a furious, burning cauldron of thrash with Hetfield’s verse vocal evoking incantations or satanic rituals while the wrist-wrecking riffage and incessant, thumping drums give you whiplash and dent your skull. The power and speed of the instrumentation is even striking now, and when Kirk Hammett gives fans their first real glimpse of his lead guitar chops on record it does not let up. Title track “Ride The Lightning” continues this heaviness, but introduces more of the dark complexity that the album embraces. An intro of harmonised guitars and pounding toms takes us to the churning, mid-paced verse riff bolstering the lyrics now famous among fans, “Death in the air/Strapped in the electric chair/This can’t be happening to me”. These first two tracks only begin to open the ears of expectant thrash fans, and it is in the iconic bell rings of “For Whom The Bell Tolls” that this album truly takes shape.

The late Cliff Burton’s insane, distorted, and squeezed bass line provides a unique atmosphere to this opening, but it is the stellar interplay between guitar sounds that define this song. The riff that appears at roughly the minute mark is still the heaviest riff I have heard, sounding like concrete strings being played by concrete plectrums by people with concrete hands. Metallica instantly provide balance to this with a wonderfully gentle, guiding lead guitar sound that lands us at the feet of the inspired chorus riff. But half of the genius of this song is that it knows when to back off, giving the vocal as much space as you’ll ever find on a thrash record, and even playing with moments of silence. Metallica’s thematic preoccupation with the damage done to the individual in war, which most will know from the iconic “One”, finds its first true expression in “For Whom The Bell Tolls”, but in “Fade To Black”, a musical and structural precursor to “One”, Metallica and James Hetfield contemplate for the first time the isolation and emotional vulnerability of suicide. This is a huge step for a band who had previously been singing about The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse or other cartoonish imaginings of death or Death, and it results in perhaps Metallica’s most moving song. The Spanish guitar with wailing electric lead behind it cuts through the crushing heaviness off the previous three songs while Lars Ulrich’s thick yet gentle drums display patience in what becomes an ever-steepening climb to an unbelievable climax. “Fade To Black” is a perfect song. In the six times I have been lucky enough to see it performed live I have cried every time, a lot, and I barely manage to make it through a listening of it on CD, vinyl, or mp3 without shedding a tear. The pitch of Hetfield’s voice, the expansiveness of the last big verse riff, and the escalating drama of that interplay between Hetfield’s sorrowful rhythm guitar and Hammett’s high-pitched shredding build until I feel like I’m going to burst. It is everything I could want heavy metal to be.

As if they knew that the heights of “Fade…” would be too much for me, the duo of tracks that follow are a somewhat odd couplet. “Trapped Under Ice” and “Escape” seem to exist in a concept album that did not get made. The former is a furious and lively thrasher with exciting rhythm guitar and vocal parts that set it apart from “Escape” which, aside from the gliding harmonising of the opening and the gently catchy chorus, is a relatively uninspired drudge. Luckily “Creeping Death” comes along to wash away the memory of “Escape”… WITH BLOOD. This is heavy metal. Epic, theatrical, heavy, complex yet direct, filled with opportunities for the crowd to chant, and designed to get people thrashing their necks. It tells the story of Passover from the point of view of the destroying angel, but more importantly has chants of “Die! Die! Die!” which have likely ruined the larynxes of many over-excited teenagers. It was arguably the last time Metallica were this much fun and this good all at the same time. “Creeping Death” will always be one of Metallica’s best songs as it feels so pure, so part of them, and absolutely rips listeners to bits at the same time. To piece listeners back together the album closes with what would become a Metallica staple: an epic instrumental. “The Call of Ktulu” is resplendent in its cyclical building of tension, key changes, and patient leads. It is reminiscent of the skilled escalation found in “Fade To Black” and I find myself rising and falling with the scales and arpeggios of Hammett’s brilliant work. It is one of the many tracks from this era of Metallica that carries the stamp of Cliff Burton’s influence, the desire to branch out and not be constricted by expectations or genre limitations. And that is what Ride The Lightning represents for Metallica and their development of a music that would somehow come to shape the mainstream of rock in the following thirty years.

In recording Ride The Lightning Metallica created a blueprint for themselves that contributed to their rise and rise through their next two acclaimed albums, Master of Puppets and …And Justice For All. And in less musically sure times they would return successfully to that blueprint with 2008’s Death Magnetic. So as I asked myself whether Ride… or …Justice…  would be my choice as most influential album in my musical life, I simply asked myself which was most influential to Metallica. Here is an album that defined what Metallica did for nearly a decade, made them inspirations to legions of new thrash and extreme metal bands, and landed Metallica on a major label following its successful release. Ride The Lightning is Metallica to me. For years I had a long sleeve T-shirt with the album cover on the front and the mantra “Birth – School – Metallica – Death” emblazoned on the back in that unmistakable James Hetfield font. I’ve never felt so at home in a piece of clothing, and while that mantra is becoming worryingly close to truth for me, I’ve never felt so at home with a piece of music. In fact, that understates it. This music feels as if it is an essential part of me, that I could not live without it. As I tried explaining to an equally intrigued and worried friend who is not particularly passionate about music, the sounds of Ride The Lightning do not feel as if they are coming from speakers, but from within my body, as if my organs were vibrating in unison to produce perfect sounds to express my soul. Metallica have been and will always be the music of my soul.  

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #3

Slayer – Reign In Blood

(American Recordings, 1986)

Buy the album here

In honour of Slayer’s legendary speed during the recording of this album, I’m going to attempt to write this review in 28 minutes. That’s just enough time for you to have your skin sliced from your face by King and Hanneman’s duelling solos, your eardrums pierced by Araya’s screams, and your neck thrashed into submission by Lombardo’s incessant snare and bass pedal attack. Rick Rubin infamously cleaned up the band’s sound and played a huge part in shifting the mainstream in the direction of thrash metal, but Slayer still sound more extreme than that today. The album’s grizzled darkness played at hyperspeed still burrows under the skin nearly 22 years after its release, and the original production is heavy, crisp, and fresh. In “cleaning” up their sound, Rubin didn’t set out to make them more palatable, but rather give each perfectly timed note its due respect. There are few heavy metal albums in the mainstream that do more to prove the untouchable musicianship that exists in the genre. From death-obsessed beginning to blood-soaked end, Reign In Blood refuses to be denied its due respect with blistering solos, cord-ripping vocals, and a beats-per-minute count that set a standard for technical death metal for years to come.

What’s more is that Slayer didn’t just perform like heavy metal superhumans, they wrote perhaps the perfect extreme metal record. While the most memorable, covered, and referenced tracks are the opener “Angel of Death” and final song “Raining Blood”, these actually serve as bookends to the most incredible blast of anti-religion, death-dripping, gore-drenched musical violence that has ever been recorded.  From the chugging groove at the start of “Piece by Piece” to the insane catchiness of “Postmortem” and its vicious speed metal segue into the bloodstorm of “Raining Blood”, the album’s concise, thematically united sub-20-minute body is extreme metal purity: lyrics are spat at you, riffs are barely repeated, and there is not a single deviation from the ultimate purpose of aural destruction. There is no balance here.

“Necrophobic” is evil in audio form. It races by in little more than a minute and a half, and there is barely time to register everything that has happened. Araya’s faster-than-possible vocals and sickening screams are matched by King and Hanneman’s overlapping solos and abusive rhythm sounds, all while Lombardo and Araya hammer through an intense hardcore rhythm section barrage. It’s as stunning as thrash metal has ever been. “Altar of Sacrifice” doesn’t let up the evil sound but feels outright expansive next to the brutal brevity of “Necrophobic”. There is more space for dynamics with the move towards groove-laden moments which in turn paves the way for the insidious slow build of “Jesus Saves”. This momentary patience capitulates to a frantic verse riff and three solos which will melt your ears. Hanneman’s solo in particular feels like its tearing the skin from your flesh and flaying your unprotected body.

“Criminally Insane” is a creeper punctuated with big floor tom sounds from Lombardo, expressive solos, and astounding vocal delivery of the line, “I have yet only just begun/To take your fuckin’ lives”. It leads us to the most uncompromising portion of this mid-section. “Reborn” is an onslaught of ever-changing riffs, vicious drumming, and vocal delivery so fast and snarled it defies belief. To this day it makes me feel sick to listen to “Reborn”, but Slayer care not as they tear into the equally potent and vile “Epidemic”. There is 10 seconds of some sort of catchy, bouncy riff just after the 90-second mark which quickly descends into the chaos of Araya’s screams and garrotting wire solos, but for one brief moment on this album Slayer allow you a peek to the world above, before reminding you that there is no escape once you’ve gone to hell. The giant riffs and atmospherics of “Postmortem” follow and are matchless in their sinister yet addictive qualities, providing ample set-up for the crushing and iconic sounds of “Raining Blood”.

And while the harmonised guitars, thundering gallop of the drums, and pit-starting glory of both “Angel of Death” and “Raining Blood” are electrifying, what exists in between is in many ways the crowning achievement of Slayer’s career. It is rare for a collection of such unforgiving, focused, and frantic tracks to claim such widespread acclaim and acceptance, but by placing the body of this album between these towering monoliths of modern metal, Slayer were able to satisfy the hordes while simultaneously taking a surgeon’s knife to the burgeoning genre of thrash metal. What was left behind after they finished cutting was akin to Thomas Geminus’ engraved platesof a flayed man: concise, exact, brutal, and eternally alive in death. Slayer’s Reign In Blood is the perfect embodiment of thrash metal.

[Note: the 28 minute limit was exceeded, going some way to proving you can’t get anything done in the time it takes to listen to Reign In Blood.]     

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #32

Rollins Band – Life Time

(Texas Hotel Records, 1987)

Do Not Buy the album here... because it is very difficult to find

Henry Rollins is a subcultural icon and touchstone for an entire generation of heavy music fans longing for the anger, cynicism, and intelligence of early punk.  In a decade renowned for its burgeoning materialism, greed, and Charlie Sheen in suits, thrash metal captured many of those fans in its underground scene and went on to become the driving force behind heavy music moving in to the 90s.  But punk and hardcore were still breathing and burning a level further underground with bands like Minor Threat, Bad Religion, The Dead Kennedys, and Henry Rollins’ own Black Flag leading the way for a collection of fans who watched many of their favourite bands break up or just disappear.  In fact, in leaving Black Flag in 1986, Rollins may have flirted with alienating the very scene that he was helping to keep alive.  But his solo band debut, produced by Minor Threat and Fugazi main man Ian MacKaye, captures all his hardcore aggression and punk spirit, and moulds a whole new bluesed-out foundation for his razor-sharp tirades.  Life Time is throat tearing, vein bursting, macho posturing, thought provoking, inspirationally angry heavy music from a man who now travels, reads, writes, and speaks in the name of self-enlightenment and equality.

Opener “Burned Beyond Recognition” pulls no punches lurching straight in with a vicious drum roll and Rollins’ patented screams of “yeah yeah yeah”.  The rhythm section immediately feels thicker and heavier than Black Flag with the screeching punk sound of the guitar often sliding off it to give Rollins’ shouts, screams, and roars centre stage.  Despite the vocals dominating the song, it is evident the Rollins Band musicians are potent.  Chris Haskett, Sim Cain, and Andrew Weiss balance their sounds so perfectly, and MacKaye has an incredible ear for punk dynamics, ensuring that every note is punched in to your ears.  The intensity doesn’t let up on “What Am I Doing Here?” in which Weiss’ unrelenting bass plucking will grab you by the neck and shove your ears right in Rollins’ gaping maw.  It’s a straightforward tale of alienation but, as with everything Rollins does, it is delivered with unwavering conviction.  Even the comparatively wandering experimentalism of “1,000 Times Blind” is confident and slams you against the wall with huge explosions of power.  There is no room for uncertainty on Life Time and, in true Rollins style, no life time to waste.

The first true highlight of the album is “Lonely”.  It is more reminiscent of Black Flag with its direct riff, percussive bass and simple structure, but will feel familiar to those who know Henry Rollins from his “big hit” video for “Liar”.  The aggressively cynical take on human relationships and the cutting delivery are attractive and repulsive in equal measure, but there’s no question the performance is breath-taking.  Chris Haskett’s guitars crash in to Sim Cain’s drums throwing shrapnel in all directions, piercing the hearts and minds of unprepared listeners.  If you weren’t on board before this, you are now, and so begins this album’s stretch of focused brilliance.  “Wreck-Age” shakes you with its pulsating rhythm and dystopian world view before dumping you at the unforgiving doorstep of “Gun In Mouth Blues”.  It’s an almost indescribably intense track, building from a bare and gently drummed intro to frightening crescendos of screamed croons or, from now on, “scroons”.  Henry Rollins is for 8 minutes a scrooner who lays bare the anger and frustration of some disaffected everyperson in a style not unlike Peter Finch in Network.  It is musically simple, but the constant burning anger that feeds its existence and sudden outbursts is overwhelming, and will have even the mildest listener screaming along.

“You Look at You” and “If You’re Alive” keep the intensity flowing, but it’s “Turned Out” that provides the album’s next highlight.  Led by Rollins’ confidently spoken verses and more stirring screams of his favourite word “yeah”, it has more shape to it than some of the other tracks, and gives you the impetus to really build in to the heavy chorus.  The bridge section truly feels like the album has succumbed to its own heaviness.  And on the original release that is, in fact, the case, as it was the last song.  For those of us who came to the album by the time it had received reissue treatment, the Do It EP tracks had been attached to the end allowing Rollins Band to kick us in the head three more times on Life Time with what must be Rollins’ personal anthems, “Do It”, “Move Right In”, and “Next Time”.  The cover of Pink Fairies’ “Do It”, in particular, gives you the basic Rollins ethos: get shit done.  He wants you to do, experience, live, learn, change, mess up, try again, and never forget that your life is not for anyone else to live.  Witnessing all he’s done and experiencing the intensity of the man, it seems as good an ethos as any other.  Do it.

52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #34

Michael Jackson – Bad

(Epic/CBS, 1987)

Buy the album here

In exchange for 13 issues of the Dandy and Beano I received a cassette copy of Bad from a kid down the road.  The deal was struck over a competitive game of Outrun on a Commodore 64, and, while I lost that game, I’m pretty sure I won on the trade.  My Dad’s stereo system made the most of the rich production, the incredible instrumentation, Michael Jackson’s unbelievable voices, and all the bizarre sounds l had never heard before.  It probably still ranks as the best decision I’ve ever made.

And “Speed Demon” is still one of the best songs I’ve ever heard.  Swirling horns, bass playing that seems impossible, a powerful driving beat, and vocals that the phrase ‘he’s got range’ fails to cover.  It’s a song with aggression and skill in equal measure, and it never feels out of place on my predominantly metal and hardcore playlists, even if the plasticine bunny in the video does.  Intensity is found again and again on Bad, but it is backed up by legitimately great musicianship.  “Another Part Of Me” and “Liberian Girl” might come across as sappy and slightly creepy respectively, but their rich, atmospheric instrumentation create vivid mental images that perfectly convey the story Jackson is telling

“Man In The Mirror” is an undeniable classic, and one of the few songs on the album not written by Jackson himself.  Retrospectively, it comes across as a confused attempt at self-improvement from a person struggling to love and understand himself.  His story is one we know all too much about, while the story of “Man In The Mirror” may only be a hope he longed to make reality.  There aren’t always stories to tell though.  “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You” is straight up, almost directionless, love song.  It doesn’t have the darkness or intricacy of many of the other tracks on this album, but its heartfelt delivery and Jackson’s incredible vocal make it another memorable song on this album.  It is, however, a victim of the high quality of its surroundings, sitting between the glory of “Man In The Mirror” and the intensity of “Dirty Diana”.

The brilliantly named Steve Stevens’ solo on “Dirty Diana” was the first time I thought that guitars were cool, but Michael’s performance is still the centrepiece.  The dark, brooding quality of his voice coupled with his storytelling prowess makes ”Dirty Diana” the perfect set up for epic closer “Smooth Criminal”.  Unfortunately, the 9-year-old me was cheated in that trade I mentioned.  The cassette cut off just as “Dirty Diana” was fading out, and I didn’t know what “Smooth Criminal” sounded like until I saw it on VHS at my friend’s house as part of the “storyline” of Moonwalker.  As a result, it’s the song I take least for granted, and hearing it now it’s still fresh to me, despite a certain annoyingly popular cover version.  A sampled heartbeat builds the anticipation before a synthesiser pounds out that now infamous riff, and Michael freestyles with his oft parodied vocal noises.  Following the beat, the staccato delivery of the verse vocal gives the song its sense of purpose while the layered, dense sound is perhaps the best example of Quincy Jones’ production skills.  It’s a song that the world has come to take for granted, but should be remembered as one of the great pop tracks of all time.

To think I had gone years without being able to hear one of the album’s highlights and I still loved it.  I haven’t mentioned the title track, and, in retrospect, I wish that if one track from that cassette had to be scratched from existence in my little world nearly 30 years ago it could have been “Bad”.  An unnecessarily cheesy and uncool song that is made to look sillier and sillier as each track passes.   But if one of the biggest hits of all time is a low point, it was probably not the worst decision he ever made….