Las Mejores Críticas de RYM: ozzystylez reviews Master of Puppets by Metallica (May 25, 2006)

03:28 EST 

28th February 1986 

James Hetfield awoke from slumber like a startled rodent and erected himself in his bed hurriedly.  He wiped the cold sweat from his frontal lobe and tried to catch his frantic breath.  He turned to his girlfriend sleeping quietly by his side and shook her awake. 

"Wha... whats going on Het?  What time is it?" 

"I've just had the most awful nightmareeeeah!" exclaimed James Hetfield, over exaggerating his last syllable as he was prone to doing in song, the dream still having some kind of effect on his social functions. 

"Awww, pussy-ribbons, wot's de matcher, are woo fwightened?" asked the soon to be Mrs. Het, adopting her nurturing voice in order to calm her frightened little boo boo. 

"Yeah I am, it was horribleeeaaah.  I dreamt it was 2006 and me and the band, we were old-ah and sad and miserable and pathetic-ah.  We wrote a record and it was an obvious fucking ploy to get the young kids to listen to us again-ah." 

"Calm down love buttons, it's just a silly dream, right?  You're in Metallica, and you've just released what is perhaps going to be seen as your crowning achievement, Master Of Puppets which has pushed the boundaries of heavy music to levels nobody even wanted to go to before." 

"Master Of Puppets?  Oh yeah, we didn't call it St. Anger then?" 

"No bubbles, that's a stupid name for a record.  No, no, your new record is non-stop groundbreaking metal through all of it's eight tracks.  It rocks like a motherfucker, and, even if I do say so myself, it just makes me want to hump you to release this excess testosterone that it gives me, and I'm a woman!" 

She snuggles up to the Het and wraps herself seductively around his muscular arm, built up from years of vigorous palm muting.  He stares vacantly into the darkness of the room.  The Het Man is in no mood for love. 

"Please, just leave me."  By this point his unusual vocal phrasing had abandoned the Het-meister, so deep was his woe.  "It was awful, Cliff wasn't in the band anymore, we had some other guy with a fat neck and an attitude problem and I beat the Hell out of him and then he left and then we got in some tribal chief to play bass." 

"Oh woopsie, you're so silly, you know Cliff's in the band, and he's one Hell of a bass player, he keeps up with you using just his fingers!  And his orchestration abilities are second to none, that track "Orion", man, that's some ambitious shit going on right there." 

The Het was not interested. 

"And Kirk's hair was falling out and he looked like a pimp.  I was embarrassed to be seen with him!" 

"Snuggles, you're being so ridiculous!  Kirk has a lovely full head of hair, and you'd never be embarrassed to be seen with someone who can solo so well, I mean, you always know when it's a Kirk solo, they're so distinct and memorable, so exhilarating!" 

The Het Monster eyed his girlfriend suspiciously, momentarily distracted from his troublesome dream by her apparent infatuation with his colleague.  Seeing his icy stare in the dim half light, Miss Het caught herself.  "But, but without you, the riff Lord, what would he have to go on?  I mean the riffs you write, they're just awesome, knock-me-down-on-my-back-with-my-legs-spread awesome.  Meaty, that's the word I use to describe it to my girls, meaty." 

Satisfied the Het resumed his vacant stare into space. 

"And Lars, oh dear God, Lars, he was an awful drummer, so dull, y'know."  He looked to his woman lying beside him for support, but she offered him nothing.  The Het frowned.  "I said...." he said. 

"I know what you said," she said.  "It's just, well, you know, Lars isn't the world's greatest drummer, but you know, he, he, er, he keeps a steady beat and that's what counts, isn't it?" 

"What's wrong, Lars been hittin' on you again?" 

"No, no, just speaking the truth." 

"And you know what?  We were like a sad bunch of middle aged men trying to remain vital in a world where we weren't the heaviest they come anymore, and I wore a stupid beanie hat all the time and stormed off in strops, and we made a movie called "Spinal Tap"?  Was that it?  I think that was us." 

"Oh my little honey bum, you're always going to be the heaviest they come, how can anything get heavier than "Battery" or "Leper Messiah"?  I mean, really, you are at the height of your powers right now baby boo, and as long as you don't let money and fame go to your head then you'll be fine." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise," she pulls him close and hugs him tightly, kisses him on his head. 

"Because if you go back on your word, and all this shit does happen, I guarantee I'll be psychologically traumatised and buy one of those stupid kit cars you hate so much." 

"Oh Pooky, it's never gonna happen, here, let's listen to your new record, then you'll see how truly awesome you really are, won't you?" 

The Het bounces excitedly in the bed, "Yeah, yeah!  Master Of Puppets, Master Of Puppets!" 

"Alright, settle down, I know it's good, but I need some sleep, alright baby, so you put on your headphones, and no rocking out too much, okay?" 

"Oh alright then, give me the headphones."

Las Mejores Críticas de RYM: ozzystylez reviews Ride the Lightning by Metallica (Nov 03, 2009)

One Tuesday evening as the hours became wee and small, fifteen year old Freddy Funpants - the victim of regular bullying and abuse at his school due to the hilarity that his name caused and the cruelty of other kids his age - sat in front of his computer screen which beamed the pages from an illegal file sharing torrent site into his dingey room. It was the sort of room that only families with no money can buy. Freddy Funpants had heard a couple of songs by a band called Metallica, and the aggression and anger that their music was fuelled by had struck a chord with his own anger, one that raged like a trapped bird inside of him. He had done some research on the internet but found very few sites where he could listen to their music for free. But something about Metallica had inspired Freddy enough to refuse to give up and his lack of money had led him to turn to illegal file sharing.  

Ride the Lightning had come highly recommended and he had only just clicked the link to download the album's file when the phone rang.  His parents were out drinking so Freddy hurried to answer it in case it was the police asking him to confirm an alibi again.

"Hello?" said Freddy.

"Is this Freddy Funpants?" rasped the voice on the other end of the phone. It sounded like the man was trying to sound menacing and his voice lacked any of the usual attempts to stifle a laugh when he said the word Funpants.

"Yes," replied Freddy a little warily.

"So, you like Metallica do you?"

"I think so," Freddy was startled by the coincidence.

"What do you mean, you think so?" asked the voice, taking on an even poorer attempt at a menacing growl.

"Well, I heard a couple of tracks by them and liked them a lot, and I was just about to download Ride the Lightning when you called. It's quite a coincidence in fact that you should call."

"AHA! Gotch'ya! You were about to illegally download the music of Metallica! You admitted it!"

"Who is this?" asked a by now startled Freddy Funpants. "How did you get this number?"

"I got one word for ya, F. B. I."

"That's not one word."

"Alright, one acronym, but what I mean is that I got your number from the F.B.I, they give me everybody's number who tries to illegally download the music of Metallica."

"Why?"

"Because you're stealing from Metallica, you're stealing my money, I'm Lars Ulrich, you may remember me from such drum fills as that one at the start of "Fade to Black", that one in the silent pause in "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and, well, others."

"Well, I'm afraid I don't because I haven't even had the chance to listen to it yet. Listen Mr. Rich..."

"Ulrich."

"Sorry, Ulrich. I only did it because I really felt  some connection with the couple of songs I have heard by your band, but my family is poor and my parents spend all their money on booze. All I wanted was one record."

"That may very well be Freddy Funpants, but did you ever stop to think of all the work we put into creating a masterpiece like Ride the Lightning?  The hours me and James..."

"Who's James?"

"The other guy in Metallica. Did you ever stop to think how many hours we spent in his garage writing those killer riffs?"

"I thought you were the drummer."

"Well, okay, did you ever think how many hours we spent in James' garage drinking beer and rocking out so that we were solid enough for my drumming to compliment perfectly James' killer riffs?"

"Well, no."

"Did you ever think how many hours of guitar lessons Kirk Hammett had to..."

"Who's Kirk Hamlet?"

"Hammet. He's another guy in Metallica. Did you ever stop to think how many hours of guitar lessons he would have had to take and pay for to be able to pull off the solos that he pulls off on that album?"

"Well, no."

"Did you think that song structures as epic and inventive as we came up with back in those good old days just come to us in the night, without the blood, sweat and tears and consequent lack of earnings?"

"Well, no, but like I say, I haven't heard the record because it's not downloaded onto my computer yet and I've been talking to you. But if it's going to be this much trouble I won't bother."

"What, you're not going to listen to it?"

"No."

"But it's a classic."

"Well, that's what I read, but if it means going to jail I'd rather not hear it."

"But it's worth going to jail for. Most prisoners love Metallica anyway, there are loads of Metallica fans in jail that you can enthuse about Metallica with when you're in there."

"Why do so many criminals like Metallica?"

"They weren't criminals before they listened to Metallica, illegally. Did you know about 65% of prisoners incarcerated in the prison system of the US are there because of illegal file sharing of Metallica's music?"

"No."

"It's so good that people will risk it all just to hear it."

"Look, what are you trying to acheive here, do you want me to hear it or not?"

"Yeah, I want you to hear it but I want you to pay for it."

"Well I can't afford to."

The voice on the other end of the phone hesitated and then Freddy Funpants heard the caller let out a long sigh.

"Well, okay then, go and listen to the album, I'll let you off just this once."

"Really? Thanks."

"You should pay particular attention to the drum sound, the power in those toms took us absolutely ages to acheive, but it was worth it as I'm sure you'll agree."

"Well, I'll go and check it out then."

"You do that."

"Thanks Mr. Rich."

"Ulrich."

Freddy Funpants put the phone back on the receiver and ran excitedly into his room. The file had downloaded and he performed all of the technical ins and outs that made it play on his computer. It started off with classical guitar and Freddy thought for a moment that he'd been duped by that weird Rich guy but then with a swell of distortion the album began proper and like a relentless juggernaut nearly detonated the young man's skull.  He felt empowered as euphoric rush after euphoric rush of guitar ecstacy flooded over him and took up residence in his room without asking, but he was very glad that it was there.

Following the thrilling climax to "The Call of Ktulu", which had impressed Freddy Funpants so much that he remembered something Mr. Rich had said about song structure, the album finished and there was a disappointing vacuum left in the room. Freddy reached for the mouse again to click play when there was a violent knocking at the front door.

"Open up, It's the F.B.I. Open up immediately, do not flush your stash into the recycle bin! We know what you're up to in there!"

Freddy wondered whether the prisoners in jail could smuggle in copies of Metallica's other records or whether this would be the last he heard of the band that had changed his life for many years. He clicked play and then got up from his seat and went to the door.