Metallica – Louder, Faster, Stronger

 Ulrich, in turn, learned to back off. Early in the making of Death Magnetic, he talked with Hetfield about returning not only to the sound of their mid-Eighties albums but the storytelling in those songs, often triggered by films and books. “James has always written the words,” Ulrich says, “but the ideas came from both of us, initiated by things we shared. …And Justice for All ”“ we spent two hours watching Al Pacino in a court­room [in the 1979 film of that name]. ”˜Creeping Death’ ”“ that was The Ten Commandments. We talked about having movie night again, once a week.” Ulrich even showed Hetfield the “un-fucking-believable” 2004 German film Der Urtengang (Downfall), about Hitler’s last days. “But I could see it wasn’t connecting. I was con­fused, slightly disappointed. But I realised I had to let him go off on this by himself.”

 Hetfield eventually came back with what Ru­bin called “gut spill”: jagged, abstract bursts of verse, charged with raw terror and challenge, about death, particularly suicide. “I hear the crowd screaming, ”˜Die, die, die,’ every night [in ”˜Creeping Death’] ”“ that has been in our vocab­ulary for a long time,” Hetfield acknowledges. But Hammett was an unwitting inspiration this time when he brought a photograph of Alicein Chains singer Layne Staley to the control room at HQ, Metallica’s Bay Area studio, after Staley was found dead of a drug overdose in 2002. “That picture was there for a long time,” Hammett says. “I think it pervaded James’ psyche.”

 “I did not know Layne,” Hetfield says. “I met him a few times. I know [Alicein Chains guitar­ist] Jerry Cantrell quite well and learned about Layne through him. And I could see some of the things Jerry went through to keep that band to­gether.

“After what I went through,” Hetfield says, “I started writing a song based around a Layne Staley type, a rock & roll martyr magnetised by death. Why did he choose that path, someone with such talent? Is it necessary for some people?” That song, tentatively titled ”˜Shine’ (“Everything looks the same/In the shine of a midnight revolv­er”), did not get on Death Magnetic, but its rever­berations did, in songs like ”˜The Day That Never Comes’ and ”˜Cyanide’ (“Suicide/I’ve already died/It’s just the funeral I’m waiting for”).

“I remember in an interview with Cliff,” Het­field says, “when someone asked, ”˜What’s Metal­lica’s mission?’ he said, ”˜Conquer the world and self-destruct.’ I’m like, ”˜What? What year is this gonna be?’ But that was an interesting answer be­cause it was the way we felt: Burn the candle as hot and long as you can. We never knew we’d be around this long.”

 Hetfield believes Death Magnetic is actually an album about fear. “There are people drawn to death,” he says. “The other side of the magnet is people push away from it. They are afraid. They don’t want to talk about it. It will happen to all of us, and we will all face it alone. How do you deal with it? And how can I get comfort from this?” According to Hammett, one of the other titles considered for the album was Songs of Suicide and Forgiveness.

 Ulrich is glad he bagged movie night. “It’s po­etry,” he says of Hetfield’s lyrics for the record, “unfiltered, unedited. It’s what’s in his heart, in his spine.” The drummer has also learned some­thing new about his friend.

“He’s a lot more tormented than I realised,” Ul­rich says. “The fact that he carries that shit around in him ”“ I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”