Going Home Again: BIRTH, SCHOOL, METALLICA, DEATH, VOLUME 1

I’m fairly sure that I first saw Metallica in the summer of ’86 in Dallas, TX. I remember them being one of the greatest live bands I had seen up to then. Through that show’s date until the early 21^st Century, I probably saw them 8 to 10 times. Metallica begot the 300 mile rule. If they played within 300 miles of me and I had means and transport, I went to see them. They never ever disappointed. By the time they conquered mainstream rock success, they were easily one of the greatest live bands on the planet. They are among the last of a dying breed, the great rock star band.

In 1991 they released their self-titled album. This disc became known as the “Black Album” due to an almost complete lack of art work. It was nothing if not controversial among long time fans given its near abandonment of the band’s previous sound. Metallica had made a conscious decision to move from the world’s biggest heavy metal band to become the world’s biggest rock band. They brought in a big name producer who worked with Bon Jovi. The result of this union can arguably be called the best rock album of the ’90s. At 14 million copies sold in the US alone, it’s definitely one of the biggest selling rock albums. From their garage beginnings up to the release of “Black Album” is the time frame covered in Birth, School, Metallica, Death: Volume 1.

To be honest, most of volume 1 of this Metallica bio is unsurprising to me. As a former fan and follower, I am familiar with their story. What struck me about Birth, School, Metallica, Death was not the well known story of Metallica’s crossover success. Part one of this two volume series ends just at their biggest record’s released, leaving that story largely untold. The interesting part of the book for me is how it demonstrates the way in which the band went simultaneously open armed and kicking and screaming into mega-success. They wanted it and they fought it every inch of the way, so much so that by the end of the recording process for the Black Album, band and producer both agreed to never work together again (though this decision wouldn’t last to their next album).

The Metallica of this era is almost pathologically adolescent. They torment themselves and everyone around them in the extreme. It is fair to say that the band made a constant and consistent practice of testing personal boundaries in myriad inappropriate ways. Often it feels like spending time with Metallica is an experience to be endured rather than enjoyed, especially for the band. They are also a group of young men with a determined and adult work ethic. It is these two contrasts that create the most interesting part of the story. It is in this dichotomy of adolescent personal space and adult work space that the story truly becomes a tale worth telling. The way these two separate band identities bleed into and all over each other is the real story of early Metallica. This is the Metallica I loved as a young man, a glorious mess of a band on a determined mission towards goals that they probably never fully understood the ramifications of achieving. This duality of childishness and intense drive for success is in no small way the force that drives their fortunes. As man-children they revel in their fan boy love of music. Yet only their hardworking grown-up side can make that love a fully realized creative successful endeavor.

Certainly a very different band begins to emerge near the end of the book. The Ghost of Metallica yet to come certainly is foreshadowed several times in Vol. 1 of Birth, School, Metallica Death. They were from the beginning a band that craved success at the highest levels. It is that hyper-achieving Metallica that loses me. I never return to their particular brand of noise for succor or sustenance. Unlike many early fans, I never faulted them for making the turn towards greater commercial opportunity. Who they became after rock super stardom just ceased to interest me on most levels, but before the Black Album Metallica was my band. I drove all over to see them. I watched them grow from extraordinary garage rock talent into commanders of their musical destiny. I watched them mature into a band who unquestionably owned their musical world. Birth, School, Metallica, Death brought me back to the Metallica whose music was so amazingly good that it became more than the notes or lyrics of the songs. That was the Metallica whose sum was more than its parts. Their sound in my ears was, as often as not, an experience of transcendence. Reading this book was like visiting with an old friend from high school at a class reunion. It’s nice to the see them. It’s pleasant to play catch up. Then the time to leave comes and as you part, you remember you left it all behind for a reason. The visit was nice but it’s more than enough. I suppose Mr. Wolfe is right. You can’t go home again.

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