Metallica is a name that has become synonymous with ubiquity, smashing down the cultural and commercial boundaries surrounding metal music, and achieving the status of a universal phenomenon. Through their more than 40 year career they’ve embodied that all too American ideal of chasing one’s dreams and actually catching up with them, going from the gritty venues of the early ‘80s U.S. heavy metal underground to selling out arenas normally reserved for the most prominent of pop stars, to speak nothing for the impressive cumulative Billboard numbers their studio work has garnered since their early 90s breakthrough and eponymous opus dubbed The Black Album. But as the famous quote from the film Conan The Barbarian goes, “Success can test one’s mettle as surely as the strongest adversary”, and even as early as their seminal 1984 sophomore LP Ride The Lightning, there have been grumblings among their core fan base that Metallica’s stylist evolution has been inorganic and touched primarily by overly commercial motivations.
The meteoric rise of any icon naturally comes with an often dramatic and dark back story, and 12th studio album and 77- minute slough 72 Seasons can be best understood as a lyrical confession of vocalist and guitarist James Hetfield. The name itself refers to the seasonal measurement of 18 years, and the 12 songs that unfold from the accompanying subject of a tumultuous youth reflect the sentiments of a man that has seen much and puts forth an impassioned and highly dynamic vocal performance to underscore the fact. Indeed, between that newly rediscovered edge that Hetfield exhibited in 2016’s Hardwired…To Self-Destruct and the heightened vitality that has no doubt come with his recent sobriety; the vocal display that comes along with this album proves to be the most powerful and indicative of classic Metallica since The Black Album made them a household name. One might even go so far as to say that James takes full ownership of this album and all but turns it into a solo effort that may as well bear his own name on the cover.
Yet while the voice at the helm of this extended sonic endeavor brings a highly varied and dynamic element into things that often borders on fan service, the instrumental foundation upon which it stands turns in a more mixed showing. Despite the continual insistence of this quartet of veteran metal trustees that this would be geared towards the seminal ‘80s sound that their fan base has been clamoring for, 72 Seasons often finds itself mired in the malaise of meandering mid-paced jam material that seeped into their songwriting template during their ‘90s days of moonlighting as alternative rock trend-hoppers. It doesn’t manifest so much in a sound that is sloppy and lacking in cohesion or punch, as between the booming quality of Lars’ kit work and the rock-solid wall built by the bass and guitars, the resulting sound is unmistakably metallic. Instead, much of what rounds out this medley of dark and brooding anthems are songs that are built off of repetition and generally rest in mid-tempo land, often arranged in a bare fashion that avoids the rich harmonic, almost symphonic choir of guitars that gave the longer material on Master Of Puppets and …And Justice For All their charm. When combined with a mix that has the cymbals too prominent and the vocals sounding just a tad too distant, the notion that this is a full on return to the glory days becomes difficult to defend.
