Metallica
72 Seasons
Blackened
Released: April 14, 2023
Well, at least it isn’t six hundred terrible pop covers of the Black Album, I guess. Metallica is back. Yippee.
Hey! Remember when Metallica released that got awful St. Anger album, and everybody was laughing at how bad Lars Ulrich was at drummer, well buckle up Sonny-Jim, because y’all ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Remember how all Ulrich did on St. Anger was pound on his snare for the entire record? Well, the good news is that he doesn’t do that as much anymore. Nah. See, ol’ Lars has a new favorite shiny thing now. His fucking hi-hat.
Have you every heard a Christmas song, that constants has a bell being shaken to represent the pitter-patter of Reindeer trotting through the snow? Guess what! THAT is what Ulrich does for the entire eighty minute run time of this putrid, wretched piece of crap album. It’s so bad, that all I can focus on is the poxy hi-hat. In fact, if I had a dollar for each time I found myself saying out loud “what the fuck is Lars doing?” while listening to this garbage record, I could retire and be off sitting on a Jamaican beach, enjoying a glass of rum.
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Don’t get me wrong – it isn’t just Ulrich that’s sucking hard on this rotten thing – he’s just the usual stand-out member, because his god forsaken awful drumming is again incredibly high in the mix. Why, I don’t know. Fuck it, I’m going to call him Rudolph from here on in, as he was obviously in the Christmas spirit when he went into the studio to record himself tap-tap tapping on the snare and one tom, while stomping the crap out of his hi-hat pedal.
To narrow it down in as few words as possible, for the people that don’t want to read a thousand words on what a pile of shit this is; 72 Seasons sounds like four guys playing four different songs in four separate rooms at the same time. Three of them are at least competent at their respected instruments, while the fourth is Ulrich on his Fischer Price drum kit, sounding like a toddler who was just gifted his first drum set.
At the end of Sleepwalk My Life Away, we hear Rudolph ask “that was good, right?” No, you holiday loving Muppet, it was not. I’m convinced this is one massive practical joke, and the boys in Metallica are rolling around laughing hysterically at the people paying hard earned money to own a copy of this utter tripe. There’s no other possible reason for this thing coming into existence. Twelve tracks that run eighty minutes and not a single good song in the bunch. Hell, I can’t even come up with one a full minute-long stretch that I enjoyed in the eleven times I forced myself to sit through this filth.
There are a few interesting guitar riffs scattered here and there across this overly long slab of shit record. More often than not though, we’re subject to James Hetfield trying to sell rehashed recycled old riffs from Metallica was a good band, while Rudolph is off doing whatever the fuck Lars is doing. Jamming holiday classics while swigging back all the eggnog he could get his greasy little fingers on.
Lyrically, Hetfield seems content to rely on repetition in a failed attempt to drive his drivel home, forcing ear worms that simply don’t exist. Well, unless you count that fucking hi-hat, because that thing has permeated my psyche forever. At this point, I’m willing to admit that Metallica should have remained playing second rate Nickleback covers. Those were truly awful, but at least it wasn’t the disgrace to metal music that this is. Too far gone, indeed.
Believe it or not; I wanted this to be the comeback Metallica record we all wanted. I wanted to be writing positive thoughts and spreading the word on how great of an album that this is – but no, Metallica couldn’t deliver on anything close to deserving positivity. I’m sure certain fans are going to lap this up; after all, there are people that defend St. Anger, Load and Reload. If those fans can stomach those albums, then they can probably force themselves to like even this tripe. That is a scary thought. My god.
72 Holiday Seasons. That’s what this thing should have been called. Featuring Lars Ulrich the red-nosed Reindeer on drums. What the hell happened? I remember seeing Metallica on their ...And Justice For All Tour, and Rudolph has this massive drum rig set-up, and today, all he wants to do is slap the snare and jingle bells his hi-hat to death. What the fuck are you doing Lars? This is truly astonishing.
The fact that Metallica bought a vinyl pressing plant to ensure this slab of absolute shit made it to press, is astounding. How on earth does Hetfield go into the studio to master this crap, hear the drumming and think “Yeehaaaahhh! This is the shit, maaan! Yeeeheeaaahhh!” – seriously, how? This is the most uninspired album I have ever heard in my near half-century on this planet. And it is hands down, the worst drumming display ever committed to permanent record. St. Anger – forgiven! Well, fuck that, I’m not going that far but it no longer holds the world heavyweight title for worst drum tracks ever. 72 Sessions does.
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I saw a meme the other day, that showed Rudolph hashing his master plan to finally defeat Napster and people pirating his music; make it so bad that nobody wants to even steal it. Good job twinkle toes. Actually, it is Lars Ulrich that should be sued for selling this piece of shit. Now, excuse me while I delete this crap off my computer and run every virus scanning software I can find. There’s no telling how many showers it’s going to take to wash this stench off of my skin.
If you truly hate yourself and music, you can pay money to own this terrible fucking record by visiting Metallica’s website. Please just retire.
For Fans Of: Jingle Bells, Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer, The Little Drummer Boy
Track Listing:
01. 72 Seasons
02. Shadows Follow
03. Screaming Suicide
04. Sleepwalk My Life Away
05. You Must Burn
06. Lux AEterna
07. Crown Of Barbed Wire
08. Chasing Light
09. If Darkness Had A Son
10. Too Far Gone?
11. Room Of Mirrors
12. Inamorata
