Track Listing:

1. That Was Just Your Life
2. The End of the Line
3. Broken, Beat & Scarred
4. The Day That Never Comes
5. All Nightmare Long
6. Cyanide
7. The Unforgiven III
8. The Judas Kiss (Runner-up)
9. Suicide & Redemption
10. My Apocalypse (Best song)

Image credited to: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/09/Metallica_Death_Magnetic.jpg

Metallica’s career bears many similarities to the life of the stereotypical giant in the music industry: once a grassroots band, inspired by art and aesthetics (given that Kill ‘Em All’s all-out brutality can be termed as “aesthetics”), then a commercial behemoth, a quartet of millionaires instead musically corrupted and materialistic.  Indeed, the release of The Black Album, along with further albums Load and ReLoad, not to mention the epic failure of St. Anger, destroyed Metallica’s image as the masterminds of thrash, once creators of such monumental works such as Master of Puppets and …And Justice for All.  Overcooked and elongated as some of Metallica’s most celebrated works were, “overcooked,” for the most part, here meant “quintessentially brilliant;” multiple time signature changes, modulations, staccato riffs, intricate solos, and rip-roaring vocals all were characteristics of the definitive Metallica track.  Such an observation of course underwent its own fair share of questions and scepticism come the release of St. Anger, where Kirk Hammett languished, devoid of solos; James Hetfield screamed meaningless junk; and Lars Ulrich hammered away without any sort of sophistication.

So, after the miscellaneous shuffles in and around the band, not least Rick Rubin’s entrance as their newfound producer, the band was assigned with one task: to become a thrash metal band again.  And while Death Magnetic is definitely not to the calibre of Metallica’s masterpieces of old, it certainly goes a long way in reverting the band back to their most monstrously powerful form – the fastest, heaviest, leanest metal band on the planet.

Death Magnetic’s curtain-raiser, entitled “That Was Just Your Life,” raises first impressions of thrash’s revival: opening with a quiet riff that builds progressively in intensity, it eventually converts to a seven-minute headbanger with breakneck riffs and a trademark Hammett solo.  Such has been the format for countless Metallica classics – “…And Justice for All”, “One”, “Sanitarium”, “Fade to Black”, to name just a few.  Then “Broken, Beat & Scarred”, “All Nightmare Long”, and “The Judas Kiss” all more or less follow the same ultra-sophisticated riff – solo – verse – chorus – longer solo – chorus – bridge – massive jam – outro format that manifest one of the trademark characteristics of classic Metallica-brand thrash.  However, only by the album’s end does this American foursome reach their technical climax; “My Apocalypse”, a song that evokes memories of the amazingly powerful “Battery”, is most definitely Metallica’s greatest creation in twenty years.

However, Death Magnetic commits several cardinal sins that prevents it from ever being mentioned in the same critical bracket as Metallica’s pre-Black Album’s masterpieces.  First, Hetfield’s lyrics, in the light of converting back to even the most basic rudimentaries of the most brawny forms of thrash, have become simply humiliating: in “The Day That Never Comes”, he screams with manly gusto, “Love is a four-letter word / And never spoken here,” while he later bellows, “The son will shine / This I swear / This I swear / This I swear!”.  Hammett, for the most part, salvages “The Unforgiven III” from becoming much like its two prequels with perhaps one of his most stunning guitar solos of late.

A particularly old adage declares, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” and Death Magnetic showcases Hetfield, Hammett, Trujillo, and Ulrich in their mid-forties, seemingly a spent force in the realm of artistic creativity.  Despite undoubtedly winning back those fans whom the band regrettably betrayed for commercial success, Metallica’s über-weary attempt to return to their thrash selves has seen them spiritually padlocked in their square boxes, those boundaries that they established long ago as proven formulas to success.  Nonetheless, what is Metallica?  Metallica’s obsession with speedy riffs, lengthy solos, and thunderous drums has defined who they are.  They do not need to change their inspirations, nor do they need to discard their beloved desire to beat the shit out of their instruments.  Proven formulas to success are exactly what Metallica need to depend upon, for that is who they are – thank God they have returned at last as the kings of thrash.

FINAL RATING: A–

Track Listing:

1. Life in Technicolor
2. Cemeteries of London
3. Lost!
4. 42
5. Lovers in Japan / Reign of Love
6. Yes (Commendable)
7. Viva la Vida (Best song)
8. Violet Hill (Commendable)
9. Strawberry Swing (Runner-up)
10. Death and All His Friends (Commendable)

Image credited to: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/0/06/VivaLaVida.jpg

When I first listened to Coldplay’s music, back when my knowledge of rock was rather diminutive, I thought of them as quite a decent band.  Parachutes was a pleasing effort; A Rush of Blood to the Head and X&Y were even better.  “Clocks” is equipped with sharp commendable piano riffs; simplicity works as a virtue in “The Scientist’; and although some of Coldplay’s detractors have labelled the song as sleep-inducing and quite frankly boring, “Fix You” pronounces the most genuine emotion in the most tranquil, almost romantic fashion.  In other words, Coldplay is no joke – unlike 90% of those modern-day, cliched alt-rock bands out there.  They might as well be proclaimed as one of those very few bands that keep the very genre bearable upon this day.

Or so it seemed; on second thought, such doesn’t seem so likely.

In all honesty, Coldplay’s first three albums put forth some of the most uninspiring, dull, lifeless sounds I had ever heard.  Out of the thirty-seven songs that combine to make this trilogy of sorts, I can candidly (and somewhat generously) state that I enjoy listening to a mere ten.  About another five to seven are worthy of my acknowledgement; the rest are utterly forgettable.  Coldplay’s work was rarely ever creative or exceptional; there was of course no need to be so catchy so as to transcend towards musical retardedness, but obviously Martin and co. were too caught up in cautiousness and spiritual weariness to provide the memorability factor.

And thus, Chris Martin’s declarations that they had “thrown away all [their] tricks” and “tried to find new ones” is sure to have raised many eyebrows from critical circles, many of whom would have tagged Coldplay as a band devoid of imagination.  Well, it turns out that their inspirations had been dormant all of this time, because their fourth effort, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends (2008), this quartet of certainly talented Englishmen finally show that they have substance to accompany their talent that had been lacking for all of these years.

Viva la Vida opens with an instrumental, the rather splendid “Life in Technicolor,” which, almost for the first time in Coldplay’s catalogue, almost manifests an attached visual stimulus, opening with almost an ethereal sound, dissimilar to anything that had ever been tried before by the band.  Certainly more importantly, such a trend continues (for the most part) throughout the next nine installments of the album.  “Lost!” – equipped with an unusual drum beat that complements a robust organ riff – “Yes” – a seven-minute track complete with violins, assertive lyrics, and a Rush-esque revival midway through the song – and “Strawberry Swing” – one of the most meritable creations of the inner poet of Martin – all experiment with new sounds and moods that Coldplay seemingly had never gotten out of the shelves of their minds.  “Viva la Vida” – what Martin named a “church-bell odyssey” during a gig – wields an orchestral arrangement that seems to provide both the rudimentaries and the finishing touches onto the song’s focus upon rebellious insurrection.

Even the lyrics seem more appealing.  “Death and All His Friends” passionately proclaims, “I don’t want to follow death and all of his friends!” while “Yes” bemoans, “I’ve become so tired of this loneliness.”  In “Violet Hill”, Martin cries out, half in romantic lamentation and half in genuine anger, to Will Champion’s powerful bass drum, “If you love me, why’d you let me go?”  Coldplay has kept true to Martin’s words, has thrown the indecisive, lacklustre Coldplay out of the window and has provided their fans with a sentimental revelation that has so deplorably been absent throughout their catalogue.

Nonetheless, Viva la Vida is undoubtedly not a perfect album, and certain parts of the record does not (or at least should not) convoke responses of approval.  For all of its anthemic power, the title track speaks of revolution in the verses and something decidedly different throughout the chorus; Coldplay’s tendencies to be lyrically indeterminate and unclear seem to be a difficult habit to break.  Moreover, “Lovers in Japan”, its beautiful piano riff notwithstanding, sounds unfortunately cliched compared to the rest of the album.  However, upon the clanging of church bells and the thunder of timpanis, the grandeur of orchestras and the anthemic cries of each of the English quartet, it seemed to me that Martin and co. have indeed created an album that has perhaps not reached even near-perfection, but has at least placed them on the right direction at last.

FINAL RATING: B+

Over the last eight months or so, I have merely blogged a deplorable four times.  You can see why when you read the posts themselves – they sound as if I’m perpetually lost in some spiritual wilderness.

To some extent, that’s just about right – in that I had absolutely no idea on what to write about.

And so, since I’ve promised myself to write a blog post every week (although it’s not certain as to whether such a commitment will be fulfilled), I figured I’ll write on what my life just about depends upon – music.  More specifically, rock music.

Just a little heads up, before we get started.