Voraciously chewing up the tarmac that lies ahead from the titular openers' frenzied start, this is a Metallica album that satiates every need; from the thrash-seekers to the riff-riders, it’s a soaring entry in the canon of metals survivors. They sit pretty in a space that is exclusively theirs – after all, how many other bands could be enlisted for two consecutive headlining slots at the world's premiere metal festival over one weekend, and have the reach and breadth of a catalogue for it to not feel like a narcissistic exercise?
A piecemeal effort from various sketches written in hotels and on buses, 72 Seasons marks the beginning of the giant's twilight years. Made during a time of global upheaval, remote sessions led to what can only be described as Metallica’s most peaceful creative period, with no therapists or self-induced strife – just music.
There's no doubting the revitalised energy coursing through the veins of 72 Seasons. It's potently exuberant as if James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Rob Trujillo, and Kirk Hammet have been supping from the fountain of youth. Small studio snippets add to the carefree texture, echoing their garage days, seemingly the titans have returned to earth, picking up where Ride The Lightning and Kill 'Em All left off. To sound this vicious and angry four decades into their career is a testament to the metaller's grasp on life, and the only beating heart required is the double-pedal Ulrich whips out every so often.
For the most part, this is all well and good. But with the shortest track coming in just over three minutes, and the longest breaching eleven minutes, the breakneck pace often leads to exasperation – sometimes less can be more. Imagine the impact after a toe-curling, whiplash-inducing trim, instead they often outstay their welcome, which is a bittersweet fact given Metallica can even unload hell for seventy-seven minutes, with no ballad breaks or contemplation. It would seem they do it because they can.
Lyrically tussling around Hetfield’s journey of addiction and sobriety, “If Darkness Had A Son” sounds as if Hetfield is viciously berating himself through lines such as “If darkness had a son, here I am / Temptation is his father”. Also incorporating the world they have witnessed since 2017's Hardwired To...Self Destruct, "You Must Burn!" gets most on the nose with Hetfield urging "Killing all we've learned / History will burn / Burn it down".
72 Seasons is certainly a triumph. It's Metallica by the books, the experimentation and curiosity pushed aside for brutality and sheer force. How much of this you can handle is debatable, but therein lies the trick of 72 Seasons; It’s not easy getting to eleven albums after decades of loss and ire – fighting through fire and brimstone – so why should it get easier now?
