Des Moines, Iowa. The metal capitol of the United States. When it comes to metal, Iowa is like our own version of Norway. It’s bleak, depressing, cold as hell, and the scary kids come out of the fields with scythes wearing black shirts and eye makeup. The ride from Minneapolis to Des Moines gets progressively more frightening the further you travel down I35. The trees disappear, the wind picks up, and there’s corn as far as the eye can see. Corn husks blow around in the wind, and at first glance it looks as though the sky is full of giant bats. It’s the perfect place for a metal show.

The last time I saw Metallica was during their “we’re not a great metal band, we’re a mediocre hard rock band” faze in the late 90s. A friend of mine had an extra ticket and suckered me into going along. But Metallica’s listless performance that night wasn’t the only indignity I had to suffer; I also had to sit through Kid Rock as the opening act. That’s right: Kid-fucking-Rock. During that hideous set I swore I was transported out of the Target Center and into some trailer park jamboree. It was perhaps the most absurd, idiotic hour of “musical performance” I had ever witnessed. And then Metallica came out and sleep-walked through their set, looking and sounding as bored and complacent as a twenty-year-old rock outfit could be.

So needless to say, despite the quality of their latest album, Death Magnetic, I wasn’t expecting much from the concert. In fact, I agreed to attend more as a way to hang out with my friend Craig, a huge Metallica fan and a guy with whom I used to make concert road trips with frequently in high school. So after our drive down the holy highway into the hell’s waiting room of Iowa, we checked into our hotel across the street from the venue, walked over to the Wells Fargo Arena, sat down, and prepared ourselves for the worst. Fortunately for me, I was pleasantly surprised. (more…)

That’s right folks, today marks the release of a Metallica album that does not suck and so to celebrate what myself and John have decided should be named “Metallica Day” I decided to pick up the guitar and learn one of the new songs.

There are frankly a lot of very cool songs on the album but the one that instantly resonated with me was The Day That Never Comes, and so I set to work late at night transcribing like crazy. And whilst I don’t have all of the song down (I’m still working on the main solo) I wanted to get something out on this glorious day. So please feel free to watch this video of me late at night, wearing sunglasses when I clearly shouldn’t be and making what I hope is a half-decent first try of this awesome song.

Because I’m me, I’ve taken a few creative liberties in some areas so this isn’t an exact transcription…

Love

Philthy

I haven’t been a Metallica fan for a while; fifteen years, in fact. I was a sophmore in high school when the “Black” album was released, and while I stayed loyal during those years – attending a few concerts, buying some live albums – I was out by the time Load hit. [Heh...more like "Load of Crap", amirite?] And as their music became more watered down and radio-friendly, I came to loathe the band that I had loved in my adolescent years.

Nevertheless, something continues to draw me to the band. Perhaps it’s nostalgia for sitting in trailers smoking GPC cigarettes, or perhaps its my unhealthy adoration for Master of Puppets, but when St. Anger was released I picked up a copy hoping for the return of the Kings of Metal. And boy was I disappointed. Only hints of greatness peeked from behind the layers of shitty production and even shittier songwriting. That was it; I was done.

I’ve known my friend Craig for twenty years. When I was banging my prepubescent head to …And Justice for All, he was right there with me. We wound up graduating high school together, going to college together, working together, and standing up in eachother’s weddings. There was one major difference: he stayed a fierce Metallica fan while I wrote them off as sell-out has-beens. So a couple years ago, when he asked me to attend a screening of Metallica’s movie Some Kind of Monster with him I unenthusiastically relented. Long story short: I loved the movie. So much, in fact, that I immediately snatched it up when it was released on DVD and watched all the special features in an afternoon. Some Kind of Monster was raw, ugly, uncomfortable, yet somehow fascinating to watch. Here were the guys that were legends in my youth pouring out their imperfect and sometimes embarrasing selves on camera, and I was fucking riveted. Sure, I wasn’t a fan of the music they were making, but when I saw how much shit they had to deal with I was more than willing to give them another chance.

Enter Death Magnetic.

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