Embracing Metallica’s Basic
On being a fan of a band too big.
It’s hard to explain that Metallica are a “basic” band in heavy metal. They’re a household name, having toured every continent, released some of the highest-selling albums of all time, and they’re likely the first heavy metal band that comes to mind when most people think of the term “heavy metal.”
And maybe that’s why they’re basic. For being born in the sweaty underground of the Bay Area thrash scene of the 1980s, Metallica weren’t ever supposed to be this successful. As a heavy metal fan, you’re supposed to like old Metallica, before they became megastars, before they made any number of controversial creative and commercial decisions. Bands brought up on the piss and vinegar of the Regan years aren’t supposed to be introduced by a Catholic priest on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.
So when I tell fellow fans of the genre that my favorite band is “still” Metallica, I almost feel compelled to follow up that fact with a defense of it, the same way a Yankees fan knows what’s coming when they’re asked who their favorite team is.
But with two Metallica shows this weekend — the band playing a completely different set each night — it’s hard not to get excited. Being one of the biggest bands in the world, their touring cycles are glacial; I’ve only seen them twice in 16 years.
I wanted to do something to make good on that once-in-a-decade-and-a-half excitement. So, as a normal person does, I decided to listen to Metallica’s entire studio discography — 11 studio albums, one extended play, a couple of unique live tracks — end-to-end. Approximately 150 songs, spanning 1983 to 2023, about 16 hours of listening from start to finish. I listened at my computer, on foot, on the bus, in my car, and yes, in the shower.
Labors of love rarely come this loud.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered that there’s a lot to be said for reclaiming the basic. At Slate, Luke Winkie writes of his experiences on the “Summer of ‘99” cruise and concert festival, which celebrated the music of the 1990s band post-grunge band Creed. Creed sold almost 30 million albums in the United States, but, says Winkie, are possibly “the most widely disdained group in modern times.”
Metallica’s numbers aren’t too bad, either. They’ve won 10 Grammy Awards; six consecutive studio albums debuted at number one on the Billboard 200; they are one of the most commercially successful bands of all time; numerous publications have called them one of the greatest bands in history; and such is their influence that when their sophomore album turned 40 years old in 2024, its sales rose by 160 percent that anniversary week.
Metallica have largely escaped the scorn that have dogged Creed for that band’s career; but even The Economist has to ponder if, in becoming as much a business as they are a band, Metallica have moved irreparably away from their garage band roots (and draw what conclusions you will from Metallica getting an article in The Economist). Tell a heavy metal fan you’re a Metallica guy, and you might as well be boasting about your Starbucks rewards membership. Really basic.
It sounds so silly, to have to feel self-conscious about liking a band that have, objectively speaking, done really well; it shouldn’t be an issue to like the world’s biggest touring act, or to love a band that transcended heavy metal to become a cultural touching point in rock music, according to Clash magazine.
But any form of success comes with an inevitable backlash; and the higher Metallica soared, the more increasingly vocal segments of the heavy metal world turned away. The standard-bearers had become the status quo. And if you like the status quo, well, that’s pretty basic.
And sure, you may tell me not to care about what anyone else thinks; and that’s good advice! But you know the frustration of seeing one of those endless comments online (“metallica lol,” they all seem to say), or trying to share your fandom with someone, only to receive that look that says “You still listen to Metallica?”
The irony is not lost on the band themselves. “There has always been this dichotomy about we’re sort of leading the cavalry, but at the same time, we’re not leading the cavalry the way that a portion of that world wants us to lead it,” drummer Lars Ulrich explained to Clash.
However, Metallica concerts don’t come around very often (at 588 speakers, 37 miles of fiber optic cable, and 120,000 pounds of cabling per show, that’s hardly surprising), so immersing myself in the music of Metallica — from the band’s first album in 1983, released when they were 19, to their most recent offering in 2023 (the youngest member is 59) was as much a deep dive into what makes Metallica Metallica, and confronting that deepest of fears and insecurities: being basic.
But you like what you like. As much as I might win some street cred by saying that I like my heavy metal rare and obscure, I’m too old to try to pretend to be cool. So I chugged through 11 studio albums, remembering everything I love about this band: the high octane testosterone of the early years, the triumphant expansion of their mainstream success, the moody maturation as the young men became adults, the shaky re-emergence from their therapy years, and rediscovering their confidence — and, yes, their basic — to become the elder statesmen of heavy metal.
Creed, too, had to endure being the laughingstock of the rock world for a decade, and they are now both “beloved” and even “cool,” says Slate.
How? Who knows. Everything old is new; everything bad is good; and that, in and of itself, is good. Life is far too short to be too cool to simply enjoy things. While there were times it seemed more than likely that Metallica would have to hang up their guitars, now they rumble through city after city, across North America and Europe, bringing the basic and the epic in equal measure.
So despite the best efforts of the cool kids in the back, I’m going to celebrate being basic; and despite the best efforts of my youth group leader, I’m going to celebrate Metallica, basic and all. It may not win me any brownie points from the peanut gallery; but at some point this weekend, my feet will be in pain, my back will be aching, and my voice will be gone; I will be hoarsely singing along to songs I’ve heard hundreds of times before; and I will be seeing my favorite band play some of my favorite songs.
It’s gonna be so basic.
