Next year, one of Metallica’s greatest albums will turn 30 years old. Yup, you guessed it, Load. That’s why I’m writing a YMIO piece for it this year. Not just to break the rules and piss off ole Steelio, but because the band just released a remastered version of this precious little gem. Why would they do that, you might ask? No fucking clue. But, for collectors, you can expect a rather fresh-sounding remaster and roughly 10,000 useless demos and live performances. Not that you can’t find all the live performances you could ever want from Metallica. And whoever the jagoff is that keeps adding them to Metal Archives, fucking stop, ya stupid cunt. And if said jagoff is one of you, kill yourself. Anyway, this remastered version is apparently such big news that when I search for the album on iTunes, I get this ridiculously over-bloated version every time. And I suspect this hit piece will be just as big, forever immortalized as one of the greatest recollections of Metallica’s big, fat Load.

Let’s set the stage. It’s the 90s, and things have already gone weird for the band when they hired Bob Rock and dropped their massively successful “Black Album,” splitting their fan base in half while attracting millions of arena-goers all over the world. This led to a strange anticipation during that five-year gap between Metallica and Load. Would they continue on this new path? Or have they got that out of their systems and we’ll return to the days of …And Justice for All? What they did next shocked the world. They cut their hair and put on mascara. The ’80s kids revolted while the hype excited the ’90s kids because they weren’t getting one new album; they were getting two in two years. But Metallica were still metal, right? I mean, they coated their new record in blood and jism, for fuck’s sake. While every kid lied to their mothers about the unsavory artwork, one thing was for sure: the Metallica we all knew and loved was gone forever. Goodbye to the underground tape trading. Say hello to radio rock!

Load marks the beginning of fun-loving tunes and addictive choruses, like those found in “2×4,” “Until It Sleeps,” and King Nothing.” It’s also the beginning of filler-filled albums that could have used a haircut as well. Take the best tracks from Load and Reload, and you could have made a single solid album. But no… Instead, the masses have to suffer through two albums with more than a dozen tracks each and roughly two-and-a-half hours of music. That said, of the two records, Load has arguably aged better, bringing interesting concepts that no one would have expected from Het and co., for example, the underrated “Ronnie,” where Hetfield delivers the story of my serial-killing childhood. Load also marks the first time the band wrote a song in a major key with the lyrically charming “Hero of the Day.” The record is so odd that its weirdness is its charm. Plus, those were the times. How many of these classic ’80s bands got sucked into the nightmarish ’90s MTV mentality?

The band also began toying with longer closers, much like the old days in Ride the Lightning, though “The Call of Ktulu” is a far sleeker track than Load’s “The Outlaw Torn.” That said, the closer is one of the more memorable tracks on the album. Even though it meanders far too much, the climax is worth it, and the closing riff is a nice bookend to the opener. The other with a similar length is the underrated “Bleeding Me.” In comparison, the journey one takes in “Bleeding Me” is one of the better ones in Hetfield’s dark mind. It’s a surprisingly powerful piece that tears me to emotional ribbons. A phrase I cannot use for “Mama Said.” This song sees Hetfield taking us off the asphalt and onto a dusty desert road with horses and shit. A song that supposedly almost didn’t make it on the album, yet was “good” enough for a music video. Which is hilarious because the rest of the band basically makes a cameo, watching Het ride off into the sunset in a fucking cowboy hat and shit-kicker boots. Otherwise, the rest of the album is filler stuffed with mood-killing interludes, unnecessary crooning, and the time-period piece of shit talk box in “The House Jack Built.”

Like my piece on the mighty St. Anger, no one asked for a write-up on one of Metallica’s best Bob Rock records. It’s not metal or the Metallica of the ’80s, but times were a-changin’. But, after the great success the band had with their self-titled record, do you blame them for taking this direction? While every metalhead bashes on this record, it’s not like it was a financial failure. Kids at the time flocked to this fucking record, attracted to the groovy, bluesy riffs and personal emotion of Hetfield’s lyrics. While there are plenty of flaws, and so much wah-wah pedal that the band decided to cut out solos for St. Anger, I’d spin this lengthy record far more than any of the rest of the shit that came out. I mean, at least they didn’t do a hip-hop collaboration like Anthrax. Load and Reload were not the albums any fan wanted, but, for better or worse, Load began a new era for Metallica, and they really didn’t give a fuck what we thought. So, do yourself a favor, listen to the crisp remastered version, relive your Zack Morris years, and don’t waste your hate on Met. Also, pull up your pants and cut your fucking hair.



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