Death Magnetic

Poor Metallica. All they’ve ever wanted to do is rock; all the vacuous wasteland that is the internet wants to talk about is Napster this and sell-out that. Even when the conversation does steer towards the music, the comment seems to be predicated on something the band did outside the musical realm: “Well, that was pretty cool, but since the Napster thing they’re dead to me…” Somehow - and I would be remiss if I didn’t say that boatloads of cash didn’t help - Metallica soldiered on and released their tenth studio album, Death Magnetic. The spirit is willing, the flesh is willing, but the big question here is “Does anybody actually buy it?”

It’s no secret that the members of Metallica are firmly entrenched in middle age. No longer are they drunk, high, and full of rage. This is important because that rambunctious and angst-ridden youth is what gave their early music its soul. If there’s anything important to metal fans, it’s authenticity. And Metallica had that in droves.

But they’ve gone from “No Life ‘til Leather” to buying Armani. They went from songs about war and destruction and the endtimes to personal therapy session. They have wives and kids now. What in the world could they possibly be angry about now?

***

The record begins with a rather ominous heartbeat and a gloomy guitar line. After that the riff-fest is on. It seems to these ears that Metallica has used …And Justice for All as a jumping off point for this album – a theme repeated throughout the disc – though I don’t exactly have golden ears (or even copper, for that matter) so I may be wrong. “That Was Just Your Life” features vocals that aren’t really sung, but spit out by Hetfield. The guitar play between lead and rhythm works fine, but the chorus is weak. That is an aberration as Death Magnetic features some of the best choruses Metallica has ever written. This may be a death knell for metal purists, but this album has hooks out the wazoo.

“Broken, Beaten, and Scarred,” with its shout-along chorus, and “The Judas Kiss” are probably the best examples of the pop (I know, I know) sensibilities that Metallica developed with the Black Album. This is not to say that they don’t rock out – they definitely do – it’s just that these songs aren’t just mindless riffing over and over again. Metal fans may scoff, but I don’t really want to listen to a musical version of the Whargarbl dog.

A lot of ink (or type, I guess) has been spilled over lead single “The Day that Never Comes,” and most of it is negative. I can’t say I disagree here. It would have been fine had it stuck with just the beginning, as the ending just seems tacked on. Not to mention Hetfield’s vocals, which sound weak. I’m not so sure growling/barking the lyrics would have been very effective, but singing is not the answer.

The middle of the album features what could be considered oddities, at least as far as Metallica is concerned. The beginning of “All Nightmare Long” features a neat little guitar opening, but as with other sounds on this album that could be considered different, the moment is short-lived. It took until the sixth track, “Cyanide,” to finally hear some bass. And then we come to “The Unforgiven III,” sure to be divisive as any song in the Metallica catalog.

The song comes on, and my first thought is “Piano? In my Metallica?” It then goes on to have an orchestral sound complete with strings and horns. If you judge the song strictly on its own merits, it’s not bad at all. Song sequels are indeed lame – and I think the trilogy would’ve worked well if it were contained on one album, or perhaps its own EP – but this one just works. Unfortunately, though, it sticks out like a sore thumb on the album. I’m a fan of quiet/loud, hard/soft dynamics, but one and a half songs on an album don’t count as dynamics, sorry.

The album ends strongly with two of its best tracks: “The Judas Kiss” and “My Apocolypse.” The former features probably the best chorus and the best vocal performance (along with “All Nightmare Long”) and the latter reminds me of “Dyers’ Eve,” and ends the album in a blaze of riffy glory. Squeezed in between those two is the instrumental “Suicide and Redemption,” it’s not bad but not exceptional, and ultimately could’ve been cut but about three minutes or so.

***

I wrote about St. Anger back in 2003: “They took their raw energy of old, their new experiences (and newfound perspectives) and put it all together to make one monster of a record.” I think this description is more apt of Death Magnetic than of St. Anger. The songs here actually feel like they’re going somewhere, whereas Anger just pummeled you with riff after riff and then that was it. St. Anger was cathartic and vulnerable; Death Magnetic has, despite its ruminations on mortality, swagger and confidence.

Death Magnetic is certainly a marathon and not a sprint. As usual, Metallica could use some sort of editor on some of their songs, specifically “The End of the Line” and “Sucidide and Redemption.” Part of the reason Master of Puppets and Ride the Lightning are considered a classic (besides the brilliant music, of course) is the fact that they leave you wanting more with their 48-54-minute run times. Once you get past that point, just about any album seems to be running more than a little long.

Despite all the hatred of Metallica, no one can seem to stop talking about them. Even indie tastemakers Pitchfork Media got into the act with their review of the new album. Not surprisingly, it was simply a more eloquent, sneering way of the old “WAAAAHHH!!! Metallica doesn’t want me to steal their music! WAAAAHHH!!! It’s not 1986 anymore!” And therein lies the best part of Metallica: It isn’t1986 anymore, but the band is still here. They’ve grown and evolved – much to the chagrin of “fans” – yet still seem to make good music. Call them old. Call them past their prime. But don’t you dare call them irrelevant, lest you’re willing to shut up about them once and for all.

So, what do they have to be angry about? The answer here, I think, is irrelevant. If the lyrics have any say, it seems like it’s their own mortality, which is a scary prospect indeed. Perhaps Metallica has grown past that anger they had back in their youth. Have you? And if you haven’t, Metallica may not have anything to offer you anymore. That’s your problem, not theirs.

Death Magnetic is a mostly great album. The riffs are solid; the choruses are catchy. I’m not sure what this means for the band: Is this merely and aberration of late-period Metallica? Could this be a swan song for the metal giants? Or is this – gasp! – a career resurgence? I don’t know. But Metallica has confirmed one thing for certain on this album: if they’re going to be taken into middle age, they’re not going to be taken softly. They will be dragged into it, kicking and screaming.

Amazon.com Blogger Hits Pitchfork Right on the Head

I don't know if anyone actually follows the things posted on the Amazon Daily blog, but this post referencing a Pitchfork review of the Black Kids' new album made me chuckle because it was entirely true.

The money quote:

"...I'd rather see a quick visual gag than invest the time to read a thousand condescending words by a dude who's looking at his subject down his nose and through his ironic mustache."

The "visual gags" aside -- I'm neither here nor there on them -- I tend to read Pitchfork a fair amount, despite the fact that their writers can indeed be a bit condescending. It's refreshing to see someone else (presumably someone who's also an indie rock fan) call them out on their bullshit even if that bullshit is funny sometimes.

Weezer's "Red Album"

I really tried to like Weezer's sixth studio album. I really did. In fact, when The Onion's AV Club declared it "breathtakingly stupid," I wanted to enjoy the album out of spite. Unfortunately, that that just didn't happen.

It's been said -- by someone much more clever than me -- that Weezer is the gateway drug of bands, in that listening to Weezer might lead the listener to more indie type bands. I find this to be true, as the first time I paid any attention to Weezer was my freshman year of college. Though that was 6 years after the release of the untouchable "Blue" album, it had me hooked and soon after (aided by a job DJ'ing at the campus radio station) I was listening to a lot more non-commercial bands. So if you think I'm a music snob now, you have Rivers Cuomo to thank.

That said, I've always found the argument of Weezer-as-indie-ish-band sort of peculiar. Weezer has always been, until now, strictly a power-pop band. They don't make 3 a.m. headphone albums, they make music meant to be blasted out of car windows and at barbecues. Any gerneral fan of rock music can find something redeeming in Weezer. There is nothing wrong with this. There is also nothing wrong experimenting with your sound. Any self-respecting artist should be able to go out of his or her "comfort zone" at least once in a while.

However, Rivers Cuomo and Weezer take this experimenting -- if you can call it that -- to a level so ludicrous I can't even find a better word for it than "ludicrous."

"Red" (that's what I'm calling it from now on) starts off rather well with a spunky, peppy little rocker named "Troublemaker." Never mind the fact that Rivers rhymes "ki-ahds" (kids) with "Biotch." Thats fine; I've come to expect that sort of thing from Weezer. Unfortunately, it's foreshadowing of the kinds of missteps that are abound on the album.

What's wrong with the album as a whole can be found in microcosm on the second track, 'The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)." The song goes in four different directions in the span of 5 minutes and 52 seconds. There's the Weezer rock song part, the "traditional" part (that's the "Shaker Hymn" thing; I'm no music scholar, so I have no idea what the hell that is), the spoken word part, and Queen-style hysterics throughout. I read over at Rolling Stone that the song is a "satirical mini-epic." Perhaps that satire was lost on me; I just think the song is terrible.

From those two songs we find why the album is problematic: there is no consistency. After 'Greatest Man' is a classic Weezer song, "Pork & Beans," complete with references to Rogaine and Timbaland...but it's followed up by the schlocky sentimentality of "Heart Songs," an ode to all the bands that Rivers loves. Being from Wisconsin, I love cheese, but not that much of it in one dose.

I hate to compare and album to a band's past accomplishments -- I realize it's natural -- because I think an album, to some extent, should be able to stand on its own. But fifth track "Everybody Get Dangerous" makes that hard to do with its sing-speak (or whatever, again, I know dick about the technicalities of music) and "everybody get dangerous...BOOYAH!" chorus.

It seems as if before, the irony and geekiness came rather naturally on their previous albums; here it seems like they're trying way too hard to be cool. I suppose if they're trying to sell CD's to 16-year-old girls that are into theater, they've hit the jackpot with "Red." With me, not so much.

Lastly, "Red" could've used some major editing. That's funny considering it's only 41 minutes long and Weezer has never released a disc over 45... but there are 3 songs over 5 minutes long. When the ideas for those songs aren't good to begin with, a little self-editing can go a long way. Case in point, "Dreamin'" would've been a great song had it been cut off at about 2:24 instead of its full 5:11 running time.

I don't want to end on a harsh note, so I will commend them for the last song on the CD, "Angel and the One." It's a beautiful song. It's no "Only in Dreams," sure, but at least they ended it on a good note.

CONCLUSION: "Red" is a mess. It doesn't feel like a cohesive album to me, but rather a collection of 10 songs that don't belong together. Not only that, but most of them are mediocre to boot. "Troublemaker" and "Pork & Beans" are pretty damn good songs, but after that, I say listener beware.

Rating: 1.5 stars out of 5

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

(turn the beat around)

Okay, now that you've got that out of your system here's the deal: I've had nothing to say in the past month. It happens. I may still have nothing to say -- time will tell -- but I'm going to try to shake things up.

Napolean in Rags will no longer be a general purpose blog. It will focus on music and music only. Record reviews, concert reviews, stupid (and completely incredible) opinions, and everybody's favorite feature - "Annoying Songs to Play in Bars" - will comprise the content of the blog.

(Yeah I know that's what I mostly wrote about anyway, I just want to make it "official.")

I will shift my "regular" writing to a web site of my own creation. Haven't got a name for that one quite yet, but I'm working on it. I plan on writing things more along the lines of the stuff I wrote in college. It'll be tough, and maybe I'll give up after a few weeks (I always have, it's the one thing I'm good at) but it doesn't hurt to try.

Lastly, I'm thinking of starting a Brewers blog. I know next to nothing about baseball, which I think makes me a prime candidate to be a blogger anyway. Well, I know some things, but I'm no expert. I just want to offer a different perspective from what you find everywhere else on the internet.

More to come later.

Traveling With A Purpose

My co-worker returned on Friday from a week-long jaunt in Mexico. It was good timing, too, because I was getting tired out from working in the mail room all by my lonesome. This is not to say my job involves a lot of heavy labor -- it doesn't -- but the double duty of doing both mail runs and deliveries to all floors AND covering the security desk had worn out its welcome by weeks' end.

Most people would have asked him how it went (I did, he said it was "great" or "awesome" or something) and what he did, asked to see photos, etc, etc. I did not go any further than my initial question, mostly because I am an introverted jerk.

Now, don't get me wrong, if he would have insisted on telling me everything about the trip I would've listened. The "fuck off, I don't care" mentality is reserved only for the most special people in my life. But, yeah, I really didn't care, therefore the conversation went no further.

I have no idea why he went there, but something tells me after working with him for a year and a half that he didn't have a rigid itinerary. He doesn't drink, so I know he didn't go there to party...which is why most people my age go to Mexico to begin with. I figure him to be the type of person to go down there and just soak in the culture. There is nothing wrong with this. But I got to thinking about what I would do if I traveled, and though I wouldn't have an itemized itinerary, I would certainly have a purpose. I don't just go somewhere to see shit.

Case in point: a few months ago I was trying to decide how to use some discount vouchers I had from Midwest Airlines. I suggested to my girlfriend that maybe we should just go somewhere that we'd never been before as she was resisting going to Vegas.

After looking through the cities, I found that there were specific things that I wanted to see there and nothing more. I wanted to see the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville and Sun Studios in Memphis. If I went to New Yotk City, besides seeing obvious landmarks like the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, I would be disappointed if I didn't get to take in a taping of Late Show with David Letterman or Late Night with Conan O'Brien.

I can't just go somewhere and hang out. Even somewhere as laid back as Mexico, I'm pretty sure I'd just go there to buy cheap booze and cigarettes.

Mock, mock, mock

I don't watch a whole lot of television, but there never seems to be a shortage of shows that I hate.

Why is this? Because my girlfriend has a nasty habit of gravitating towards shows worthy of my scorn. Now, to be fair, she's not the type that insists on watching the bevy of reality shows that permeate our airwaves. She doesn't sit around waiting for the next schlock-filled episode of Rock of Love, Flava of Love, I Love New York, Fucking (Disguised as Loving New York), etc, etc. Actually, two of her favorite channels are more "reality" based than your average broadcast network or vh1: TLC and Discovery Health.

I'll leave Discovery Health alone not because I like it, but because I'm uninterested and generally freaked out by all things medical. This is, of course, despite the fact that I work at a BLOOD center. TLC, however, is a different beast.

I don't think I can stand a single show on that network. I don't watch anything closely on the channel while my girlfriend is watching What Not to Wear or Jon & Kate Plus 8 but time and again I find myself turning away from my computer screen to curse the TV or mock one or more of the people.

I'm finding the only way I can stomach any of this reality television is to mock it incessantly. (And hopefully to the point where she turns it off)

I've written about this before -- about Bridezillas in particular -- that I think the only reason most reality television exists in the first place is because it makes the average American feel better about themselves.

I'm not trying to take any sort of high road here. I openly mock people on a regular basis; it's entertainment to me. But that's the thing - I mock real people. I don't want that to be the selling point for a decidedly escapist form of entertainment. When I'm entertained it's because of a good plot or (more likely because I'm not a fan of dramas) brilliant dialogue. Reality TV doesn't deliver when it comes to those points.

So why the screencap from the final episode of Seinfeld? Because Babu tells the jury how the foursome just mocked and mocked and mocked and never thought about any of the people they were mocking... and I think that illustrates rather poignantly the attitude of the average reality show viewer, even me.

Am I right? Am I wrong? Am I just a hateful, bitter asshole incapable of having a little fun? On that last question, I'm (barely) secure enough in my own skin to admit that I am, in fact, a hateful, bitter asshole. Regardless, reality TV still bugs the living shit out of me and if that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

Annoying Songs to Play at Bars: Vol 6

Artist: The Rolling Stones
Song: “Midnight Rambler" (live)
Album: Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out
Length: 9:04

For the first time in a while, I'm picking a song that I've never played in a bar. In fact, I was just listening to the album today -- which is fucking great as far as live albums go -- and decided that "Midnight Rambler" would be a great cut to play in your local dive.

First things first: Yeah, I know everybody and their mom loves (or at least knows) The Rolling Stones. That's the pure genius behind picking this song: unless you're a hip-hop head that hates anything with actual guitars, you can get into this balls-out live rocker from Mick and the boys.

Now, I just described "Midnight Rambler" as balls-out, but it's not quite as menacing as other heavy rockers from the same era...say Black Sabbath's "War Pigs." That's another thing about this song that makes it such a good choice: any schmuck with a dollar bill can pick an all-out assault on the ears like early Metallica or Megadeth. It takes a more discerning listener to choose a slow burner like "Midnight Rambler."

I suppose it sounds like everyone should appreciate this song then...and they should for the first four-and-a-half minutes or so when the song seems ready to fade into oblivion...

...at which point, after slowing down to a crawl, the song picks back up again. Mick Jagger goes on talking about "the midnight rambler" and continues on for another good four minutes.

I know I'm just a dork, but just thinking about that point in the song playing in a bar makes me cackle to myself.

I have devised a ratings system just for fun, and mostly because I thought it incredibly funny to use "Lars Ulrichs" as my rating instead of stars or numbers.

Ratings go from 1-5, least to most.

Obscurity: 3.5

I'm sure any hardcore fans of the Stones will know this song, considering it's not only on the live album, but on Let it Bleed as well. But if most patrons are like me, and only know mostly singles, this song might catch people a little off guard.

Length: 4.5

The Rolling Stones have a few longer songs like "Sympathy for the Devil" (6:17) and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" (7:29) but the live version from "Midnight Rambler" tops them all.

Tuneoutability: 2

It's not super-loud. Its lyrics are intelligible and sung, not screamed. The riff is quite catchy. People will listen to this and maybe even like it, but what will get you your money's worth is the 9-minute running time.

Overall: 4