Film review: Star Trek Beyond

Before we get started, I’m not a Trekkie.  I took a passing interest when I was a nerdy teenager and now that I’m a nerdy 30-something my tastes have changed and Star Trek for me requires an a awful lot of commitment to really get into.  There’s just so much of it, and a lot of it is silly, so my interest extends pretty much to the films and knowing what a Klingon is.  That said, I always appreciated how progressive the show was: set in a post-Capitalist society, on a non-military vessel, and featuring a Russian, a Japanese, and a black woman in positions of relative authority, Gene Roddenberry was feeding us some delicious propaganda!

The re-booted and ret-conned film series (thanks, time travel!) has given us new faces on familiar characters and with the current crew now firmly established by the able hands of JJ Abrams, Beyond can plunge us straight into the action without too much exposition.  Fast and Furious director (and lifelong Trekkie) Justin Lin rightly sets his stall quickly with oddball aliens, an ancient weapon/MacGuffin and a mission all established within the first 15 minutes or so.  It’s the start the film needs, as if the creative team is trying to kickstart the series and regain some fan faith after some (fairly unjustified, in my opinion) backlash from 2013’s Into Darkness.

Spectacle-wise, we get an impressive Halo/Larry Niven/Iain M Banks-on-crack space station, and a well-rendered barren alien planet, but one of the best things a Star Trek film can do is out-gun the Enterprise.  The 2009 reboot had a Romulan warship, Into Darkness had a huge, tooled-up Federation warship.  Beyond goes one better, all but destroying the Enterprise early on.  Weapon of choice: a swarm of hive ships.  This has been done recently, with Independence Day: Resurgence and Big Hero Six both using the idea, but it looks great here and it’s effective in raising the stakes and the peril early on.

Smart move no. 2 is pairing the shipless crew off into groups to maximise character banter.  If this type of film is done wrong, they can come off as po-faced and fan-serving, losing that key ingredient of fun.  No such qualms here as  Zachary Quinto’s Spock and Karl Urban’s Bones go full Odd Couple, Chris Pine’s Kirk and the late Anton Yelchin’s Checkov have pleasing action beats, and Simon Pegg’s Scotty bounces off Sofia Boutella’s deadly local.  It’s a smart move, particularly resisting the urge to allow Kirk to pull the alien lass, and giving Bones something to do this time out.  Spock’s delivery of the word “bullshit” is priceless.  It’s moves like this that make Beyond loads of fun, and don’t allow seriousness anywhere near proceedings.

Plot-wise, I worked out the identity of Idris Elba’s Krall really early on (and I’m really bad at doing that), and his evil scheme (not dissimilar to that of The Rock) lays on the subtext quite thick but offers genuine threat, even if details are borrowed from the highly naff Star Trek Insurrection.  There’s some techno-babble thrown about, which is kind of annoying when it’s used as a narrative Get-Out-Of-Jail-card, and the film trips on this but never really falls over.  This is par for the course with Star Trek and doesn’t really get in the way, but comes close.  Of the new characters, Elba tries manfully to raise a limited villain above snarling evil.  He’s better than, say, Christopher Eccleston in The Dark World but he doesn’t really get to chew the scenery like Cumberbatch in the last film.  Boutella gets a surprising number of laughs and is hard as nails. Admirably, she isn’t just used for sex appeal, but like Zoe Saldana’s Uhura, doesn’t have a great deal to do.

Whether Beyond will please die hard Trek fans remains to be seen, and ultimately, this doesn’t matter.  I’m not one of them and it gave me plenty to smile about.  There is some genuine emotion, particularly when giving some closure to Leonard Nimoy, and in the closeness of the crew.  The film also has the balls to do something spectacularly silly in the final conflict.  Given how it’s already established a light tone, this moment (you’ll know it when you see it) is a stretch but ultimately earned.  If you’ve bought into it enough to get through the first hour, the gambit in question shouldn’t force you to suspend disbelief too much; after all, Justin Lin is the man who turned Fast and Furious from naff car porn to billion dollar beloved car porn (I’ll have it on record that I’m not a fan), so he’s earned the right to try something ballsy.

Where the series goes from here is anyone’s guess.  With good chemistry, freedom from decades of canon, and a restored sense of fun, there really is potential here.  While I’m sure executives and the creative team will want to at least have a go at serving long-serving fans, they’ll likely be more concerned that it pulls in the numbers and makes the average punter happy.  With a $60m opening weekend and a happy punter in this reviewer, they’re boldly going about it in the right way.  Oh, and the subtext (working together is better than unilateral military force) makes for a nice unintentional Brexit metaphor, with Elba’s villain even looking a bit like Teresa May.

Gig Review - Ginger Wildheart, Trillians, 17/07/16

If ever a musician deserved to be a millionaire household name it's Ginger Wildheart. A man preternaturally gifted with a skill for writing a hook, a melody, a chorus. Had he toned down the guitars, ditched the riffs and focused on churning out easy pop songs he could have easily rode the wave of Britpop in the 1990s and been chilling in his mansion.  Instead, he's playing Trillians on what must have been the hottest night since the records office melted. Hell, he would have started the wave of Britpop, such is his knack for a catchy song. Well the good news for everyone here is that Ginger has rock and roll in the blood and while Blur, Oasis et al set about being boring, Ginger released record with names like Riff After Riff After Motherfucking Riff. The bad news for Ginger is that the mansion will have to wait because he has Trillians to contend with.

On what was sure to be a special hometown show, Ginger was determined to give value for money. Doors were pushed forward to accommodate local punks Crashed Out. Veterans of the circuit, I'd never seen them before and to be honest their brand of by-the-numbers oi-punk was not my cup of chai. They were energetic and earnest, full of pride and passion but I felt like I'd heard it before, somewhere in between Sick Of It All and Dropkick Murphys in their local price and nostalgic lyrics. They deservedly have an audience, I'm just not really part of it.

The Main Grains are up next. I'd never heard of them or knew anything about them so I was probably the most surprised person there when former Wildheart Danny McCormack stood front and centre as their singer. Sounding not unlike his former band The Yo-Yos, they were loads of fun with driving rock n roll riffs and mental guitar solos, punctuated by a cover of 'Teenage Kicks' which was decent but a bit obvious. A cult hero among Wildhearts fans, it's good to see him back and his craic about drinking water onstage (“What does this do to you? First time for everything...”) was priceless.

Another unknown quantity (to pig-ignorant me anyway), Ryan Hamilton and The Traitors are up next and they seduce the room with their gentler, piano-and-guitar-led Americana. Probably softer and less surly than The Hold Steady, their closest fit is probably Tom Petty, and it's no bad thing. Hamilton has great banter and his songs are fun, one particular highlight being where he inadvertently leads the audience into a chant of “C-U...NT” to the chorus of his latest single, which you should probably seek out and buy.

Ginger has a wealth of material to choose from; even ignoring The Wildhearts he has 7 solo albums (more if you joined his crowd funding initiative), Silver Ginger 5, Supershit 666, the bizarre Clam Abuse, pop-rock geniuses Hey! Hello!, and that's not even counting the outright mental Mutation albums or his country alter ego Howlin' Willie Cunt. The set focuses on his brilliant new album Year Of The Fan Club and Silver Ginger 5, making for a riffy, rock and roll set. It doesn't take long for the smiling, enthusiastic Ginger to have the crowd eating out of his hand, the intense heat failing to dissuade anyone from dancing. 'Anyway But Maybe', 'Mother City' and 'This Is Only A Problem' al boast monster choruses but when the one-two combo of Wildhearts tunes 'Mazel Tov Cocktail' and 'Top Of The World' is delivered, it's game over. Peerless, brilliant and that's without even playing his best songs.

But the night was to deliver a further emotional moment when the band re-emerge (from the seats to the right of the stage) and are joined by former Wildhearts drummer Stidi and a grinning Danny McCormack on bass. A chaotic, shambolic 'My Baby Is A Headfuck', probably the tune that best defines their chaotic years as kings of Britrock, is followed by a nutty 'Suckerpunch' and the local glory that is 'Geordie In Wonderland' which sees McCormack in tears. Back on stage with his old band at a hometown show in Trillians of all places, who could blame him?

They end with '29x The Pain', a B-side which is better than the entire output of most bands and leave an entire room smiling from ear to ear. It's nights like that that makes Ginger and The Wildhearts so special; songs that feel like old friends and stick in your head all the way home. So all apologies to Ginger Wildheart, but I'm pleased that he isn't the millionaire he could so easily have been (that said, he's releasing at least 3 albums this year so give him time...). Too self destructive, too volatile, to committed to rock and we wouldn't have him any other way. Welcome home, bonny lad.

Film Review: Inherent Vice

Just tell me a story. It's not too much to ask, is it? Cinema is a medium for storytelling, is it not? The bare minimum requirement is that what you're watching tells a story, isn't it? Yes, I appreciate that there is a surrealist movement, and yes I appreciate that cinema is a visual medium so there's an argument that visuals count as much as an verbals, but even David Lynch is telling a story in his own weird way. And since we've had the facility to verbalise a coherent story since about 1925, I don't think it's too much to ask.

P.T Anderson's latest offering, Inherent Vice, frustrated the hell out of me for many a reason, it's strict adherence to a loose narrative form (oxymoron of the day, folks!) being one. Most frustrating, though, is that there's a really good, satisfying anti-noir (film blanc?) detective film buried in the layers of wilful fog and obfuscation.

I'm not stupid. At least, I'm fairly sure I'm not stupid (PM me to confirm, please). I can normally tell when a director's intention is to be deliberately unconventional, but this strikes me as the type of film that people say is brilliant because they're worried about sounding stupid if they say they didn't think it was very good. I'm not saying it's not very good, I'm saying that this could have been a very good film were it not for the unglued, meandering form and some serious self indulgence from Anderson. It's a beautifully shot, well acted piece with some truly brilliant scenes, and it does in fact tell a story. The issue is that the story is so filled with superfluous characters and detail that it's hard to care any more when it gets resolved. The point is that the film is meant to be experienced rather than understood, which is fine, but it's really unsatisfying considering how much investment you need to put in to reach the end.

Anderson, for me, has lost his way somewhat. He gets world-class performances from talented casts, but seems increasing insistent on telling loose stories. The Master looked great, featured some fine acting, but was a horrible film to follow. Scenes just followed scenes rather than caused them, with only hinted continuity and character motivation. Anderson could easily have told that story but instead he decided to just hint at one and let the audience do all the work. Admirable, maybe, but hardly enjoyable. After the brilliant Boogie Nights, the magnificent Magnolia and, er, Punch Drunk Love (Adam Sandler's best film), this started to happen with There Will Be Blood. He's gone from being Scorsese to being Terence Malick. Not necessarily a criticism so make of that what you will.

Melding styles as diverse as film noir and stoner counterculture is hardly new, and I promise this is the only time I'll mention The Big Lebowski here, but the Coens' film is much more satisfying because it sticks to a recognisable noir-ish structure, although filtered through a joint or two. There's no escaping expectation, especially when you so deliberately dangle genre bait in front of the audience, and the most satisfying thing about the detective/noir genre is the resolution; where all the jigsaw parts finally fit together. Well Inherent Vice is a 10,000-piece puzzle and chances are you're so frustrated by the time you finish the puzzle, you don't care what the picture looks like anymore. For examples of how this is done right, see Chinatown or LA Confidential (another distillation of a sprawling novel, given focus by sharp screenplay and direction).

The worst thing for me is that there's so much to like in Inherent Vice. PT Anderson, as always, sets his shots up beautifully and is a virtuoso of his craft. Where it isn't meandering between barely connected scenes, the screenplay is jaunty and funny, drawing fine performances from Jaoquin Phoenix, Katherine Waterson, and Josh Brolin among others. The individual scenes are memorable and enjoyable, with idiosyncratic characters and brilliantly realised L.A. Locations. There are shades of a sprawling Chinatown-like narrative about a missing property developer, which becomes more about the detective than the detection.

Ultimately, though, this is all put together in a way that feels like an omnibus edition of a sketch show in which Jaoquin Phoenix's character has another druggy encounter every episode. It meanders to a close, which is surprisingly sweet, told in looks rather than Hollywood platitudes. The only problem being that after 150 minutes of struggling to follow what's going on, you're unlike to care anymore. Unless, of course, you're watching it while high, in which case this is the greatest film ever made. I watched it sober, and I like stories so for me, it wasn't.

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, songs don't have to be catchy, paintings don't have to be of anything, and films don't have to make logical sense, it's just that they're all much more satisfying when they do.

Independence Day: Reviewsurgence

Twenty years on from the original film and probably the product of Twentieth Century Fox looking for another franchise to bleed dry, the sequel that nobody asked for comes rolling around. Independence Day, while feeling a bit like having AMERICA! shouted at you for 2 hours, was a load of fun and an example of how to do a puddle-shallow sci-fi blockbuster correctly. Charismatic leads, some memorable visuals and a creditable alien threat made for an enjoyable cinematic experience and aside form making me feel really old, how would the sequel fare against 20 years of human advancement? Would the post-colon sorbiquet mean anything at all?

As with most of these types of films, Independence Day: Resurgence is far from being art, but there is a skill to getting this type of disaster movie right. For every Jurassic World or Cloverfield there's a Battleship (a film so bad it made me root for the aliens) or a slew of stroke-inducing Transformers films. Resurgence falls into the former category or being utterly stupid but charming and emotional enough to give you a smile.

Starting with the more negative aspects, the first thing you'll notice is that the majority of dialogue in this film is absolute garbage. If characters are not portentously referring to their history (barely-sketched backstory passing as character depth), they're simply describing what is already there onscreen to see. You could watch this film with the sound off and follow the plot beat-for-beat.

Most of the guilt for this lies with the younger members of the cast, most of whom could pass as cardboard cut outs of Gap models. Jessie T. Usher, Maika Monroe (normally better than this), Rain Lao, Travis Tope, and one of the non-Thor Hemsworth brothers, while not helped by some duff dialogue, are generally awful and one can't help but think the studio wouldn't trust their franchise to be carried by actors in their 50s. Likewise Charlotte Gainsbourg does little but wide-eyed science buff stuff and isn't right for the part, and the African warlord character is a crass stereotype that brings to mind a villain in an unmade Lethal Weapon film, written and directed by Mel Gibson

The conductor of all the onscreen mayhem is Roland Emmerich, the man whose commitment to iconoclastic destruction made the original film so memorable. While we previously saw the White House and Capitol Records building destroyed by flying saucers, the size and scale of which were very clearly defined and all the more effective for it. Following the 'bigger is better' mantra of the sequel, a 3000-mile-wide super saucer, covering the entire Atlantic ocean, is poorly rendered and too massive to either fit onscreen or comprehend. Also, instead of blitzing landmarks with a scary energy beam, the saucer simply destroys stuff by being so massive as to have its own gravity. The scene where the Burj Khalifa is dumped on London just isn't as effective: it's scattershot and less focused.

All of that said, there is plenty to recommend in Resurgence. As it develops, there is a tangible sense of dread, the alien plot suitably far-fetched and destructive. While it's a gamble, the presence of another alien species works nicely. The audience, having already bought into an aggressive alien force, is asked to buy into a benevolent one and their representative is designed in a pleasing way that recalls both Gort from The Day The Earth Stood Still and Eva from Wall-E.

Also quite pleasing is how Resurgence handles the hybrid alien-Earth tech. This makes the film enjoyably 'sci-fi' and also raises the stakes in terms of the alien threat; if we're so advanced, how the hell are they going to beat us? Well, they do a good job of it. While this allows for some narrative conveniences, it's largely done well and the times it cheats are forgiveable. Considering how they defeated the aliens in the first film, being able to active the thrusters on a ship that's been taken over by the hive mind, seems like much less of a cheat.

There is plenty of humour thrown in and while many of the early zingers don't quite zing, they eventually find their feet, and a school bus thrown into the middle of an alien queen throwdown is a brilliantly nutty move. Much of the success here is owed to the older cast, reprising roles from the original. Jeff Goldblum is charismatic as ever, Bill Pullman's PTSD-afflicted ex-president does well with a part that could have easily been unintentionally hilarious, and Brent Spiner's comic-relief/exposition-spouting Dr. Okun is fun enough to lighten the tone and diffuse the silly plot. Likewise Emmerich's gracenotes and enough to give a picture of a larger Earth (the drunken scavenger ship crew is fun) and add some detail outside the main plot.

Ultimately, this would be a flattened White House of a film if it wasn't for the returning cast. Will Smith would probably have helped matters but there's plenty to like from the others including William Fitchner, who looks like he hasn't slept since 1996. Emmerich should probably stop thinking of ways to destroy the world now; this was a pleasant surprise that could have been diabolical but was redeemed by some good old fashioned gravitas. The last line, however, promising/threatening further instalments, should have been left out. Earth has now had enough resurgence.

...And Justice for Metallica: the defence

Damage Inc.: The Case For Metallica

Better Than You

There's a reason Metallica have done a lot better than the other 'Big Four' bands (Anthrax, Megadeth and Slayer), and certainly those that didn't quite make it (Exodus, Testament, Overkill): songs. Less prolific than any of the others (even Anthrax, who seem intent on replacing at least one band member between releases), Metallica take time and care over their releases. All of them struggled through 'challenging' 1990s: Megadeth shat out the lamentable Risk and Cryptic Writings albums, Slayer compromised for once with Diabolus In Musica. Anthrax arguably fared best with Volume 8; a fine album but hardly representative of their former sound. All has been forgiven for those, but Metallica remain (pun intended) unforgiven in the eyes of many. Load and Re-Load have irrevocably damaged their status for many. Choose the best 14 songs from the 27 on offer and you'd have a better album than any of the others mentioned above. Compare this to Megadeth's approach of throwing lots of shit at a wall and releasing the results, yet nobody was out there decrying this year's Utopia album before it even came out. For every 'Peace Sells', Metallica have a 'Master of Puppets', a 'Blackened', a 'Fade To Black'. For every 'Reigning Blood', a 'Damage Inc' and a 'Struggle Within'. Songs trump heavy every time.

Fight Fire With Fire

Is there another band that does what Metallica do, with the same presence or size? Many have come and gone during their impressive tenure as biggest metal band in the world. Guns n Roses vanished up their own arses, having released 3 good songs 30 years ago. Several 'grunge' bands came and went, leaving only Pearl Jam in the same league, and only really Soundgarden and Alice In Chains embracing the metal. Pantera came, blew it, and went. Likewise, Sepultura. Of the nu-metal crop, Korn take the prolific Megadeth approach and as such are never as good as they should be; Slipknot can comfortably fill arenas are are probably the only band I can think of to compete. Linkin Park? I might as well suggest Bon Jovi. Avenged Sevenfold have graduated from ripping off Guns n Roses to ripping off Metallica, but do neither especially well. I would make an argument for Machine Head or Mastodon, but they're never going to sell even a quarter of what Metallica does.

Iron Maiden, once Metallica's idols, are now their peers, and one of the few with the same cultural presence. Maiden's music, while incredible, is easier on the wrists (more chords and melodies, less palm-muted riffs and speed), and they don't exactly stretch themselves musically. With five albums on the bounce produced by Kevin Shirley, I can almost predict what their next record will sound like. Don't get me wrong, I'll still buy it, but wouldn't you rather have a band that can surprise you, even if it is with Saint Anger?

The Outlaw Torn

From 1984's Ride The Lightning onwards, Metallica have steadfastly refused to take the easy option. Adding acoustic sections and mid-paced songs when the scene demanded ferocious speed was a brave move and they have always had something their peers lacked (or took a while to catch up with): artistic freedom. Following Ride with the genre-defining Master Of Puppets and the crushing but complex ...And Justice For All (the best album/worst production combination you'll ever hear), they were comfortably the best, most consistent thrash band. Collaborating with Bob Rock, they slowed things down and beat Kurt Cobain to the punch with the biggest album of 1991. The point being, they had the balls to try something other than 'let's just play as fast as possible'. It's no coincidence that Megadeth's Countdown To Extinction and Anthrax's Sound Of White Noise were slower and more groove-oriented than their predecessors.

Fast forward and they again had the guts to express some influences other than Iron Maiden and Motorhead with Load and Re-Load. And I should really address the furious elephant in the room that is Saint Anger. I liked this album on its release, the rough, unfinished production an extension of the wounded animal emotion of the songs. Yes, there are concessions to trends and the album is a criminal waste of Kirk Hammett's talent but pick through the drum sound and fury-over-focus approach and you'll find some gems: 'Frantic', 'Some Kind Of Monster', 'Invisible Kid', 'Sweet Amber' and the title track are absolute beasts. To bring us up to date, it's my contention that Death Magnetic is one of the finest metal albums of the last decade. Metallica don't like to repeat themselves and I'm excited to hear what they do next. There aren't many bands I can say that about.

Hero Of The Day

Even considering the bands that didn't make it to Metallica's level of success, few are subject to the same degree of scrutiny. How many bands follow up a career-defining album with another classic? Pantera followed A Vulgar Display of Power with the patchy Far Beyond Driven, Rage Against The Machine couldn't match their debut with the minor Evil Empire, Alice In Chains (probably because of heroin...) followed Dirt with the filler-filled Tripod album, and can anyone say that Tool's Lateralus is as good as Aenima? It happens but it's rare that bands can repeat the trick. So why, then, are Metallica written off when they don't release a new Master of Puppets every two years? How come Iron Maiden can get away with churning out four patchy-to-poor albums on the bounce (No Prayer for The Dying through to Virtual XI) and still be considered legends every time they make good but interchangeable records? Can you name the album Fleetwood Mac made after Rumours? (it was Tusk, but I had to look that up). And who can honestly tell me that they'll go see Black Sabbath on their upcoming farewell tour and hope to hear any songs written after 1975? That's only 5 years of songs taken from a 46-year career. So how come Metallica suck if they can't write another 'Seek And Destroy'? They probably could, it's just already been done.

Eye Of The Beholder

Do they deserve the pre-emptive, almost forensic scrutiny they're subjected to? Look at it this way: any band who puts their music out there will do so with the intention of selling at least some records. If you set out making heavy, aggressive music, you might naturally expect to sell fewer records but the hope would still be there. Metallica have been phenomenally successful at making heavy, aggressive music so the question should be whether they have compromised or 'sold out' by becoming so. Yes, their music has changed, but bands get bored and change. Yes, they have made music videos, played massive stadia and put themselves out there but success in their industry dictates that this happens. The only major bands I can think of that don't actively promote their own stuff are Pink Floyd and Pearl Jam; everyone else tows the line. So the only suggestion I can make for people who don't like what Metallica do to promote their own music and thus keep heavy metal in the pubic eye, is don't buy it. The Master Of Puppets days are not coming back. If you want 1986 over and over again, by all means listen to Slayer churn out the same album every few years. They didn't build the pedestal they're on; you did when you bought the Black Album. Don't begrudge them enjoying the spotlight you put them in. For me, it's good to know that there's one rock band out there that eats all the others for breakfast.

...And Justice For Metallica: the prosecution

91 million Metallica fans can't be wrong, can they? Let that sink in: 91 million certified album sales over 35 years, for a band whose music has its roots in thrash metal. That' more than Fleetwood Mac, more than Rod Stewart, more than Prince and certainly more than Guns n Roses (whose 'rock legend' status seems to be based entirely on 3 songs from 1987). That's a monumental success story, but with it comes baggage. Right now, that baggage is taking the forms of countless keyboard warriors who seem intent on demolishing anything they do, often before they even do it. Metallica are gearing up to release a new album, their first in 8 long years, and it seems the internet's knives are being sharpened in preparation for skewering whatever might emerge from LA's finest. My question is this: are they right?

The Gods That Failed: The Case Against Metallica

The House That Jack Built

There's a famous line in The Dark Knight Rises where Bane taunts Batman's fading abilities, saying “Victory has defeated you.” Throughout the 1980s, Metallica were increasingly successful but hardly a household name. When they broke big, and I mean Pink Floyd in the 70s big with 1991's Metallica album, they had nowhere else to go.

If a band is successful on their first release, it can either rob them of their momentum (Bush, Feeder, Guns n Roses), or drive them to bigger and/or better things (Pearl Jam, Weezer, Linkin Park, Nine Inch Nails). When a band works for album after album to earn their success, it poses a difficult question: more of the same, back to our roots, try something new? How many bands have successfully followed up a huge album? Green Day followed Dookie with an good but not as popular album, Def Leppard followed up to world-conquering Hysteria with the appalling Adrenalize and Metallica took 5 years to follow 1991's Metallica. I'm a fan of 1996's Load, less so 1997's Re-Load, but they represent a further progression away from their thrash roots and a dilution of the slower, more low-end groove-based rock that made them huge. While both feature strong songs they also feature absolute turkeys ('Slither', 'Bad Seed', 'Ronnie', anyone?), producer Bob Rock's influence perhaps coming through more than it should have. The accompanying band image, never previously a consideration, seemed contrived at the time, and is now best forgotten.

While all of their 'Big Four' contemporaries strayed from their original paths and endured 'challenging' 90s (although Anthrax' 90s output is actually brilliant, it's hardly thrash), Metallica, the biggest, strayed the furthest and for some have yet to find it again. There is a lack of focus here Kirk Hammett's leads are too restrained and Hetfield's vocals, while stronger than they ever had been before, had lost some bite and menace.

Holier Than Thou

While none of us really know what Metallica are like, they certainly haven't done themselves any favours when it comes to public image. Such is the erosion of public trust that the supposedly naked honesty of the Some Kind Of Monster film (for the record, one of my favourite documentaries) has been perceived as the opposite: a vanity project, attempting to humanise their public persona. They key piece of evidence: the scene where Hetfield graciously gives new bass player Rob Trujillo a 25% stake in the band, against their lawyer's suggestion. I like this scene, but it's been turned into a stick to beat them. Admittedly vanity projects like this, the poorly-received Through The Never, staging their own festivals, and bizarre collaborations with Lou Reed, have made them seem out of touch with anything but their own dicks. Owning original art by Basquiat does somewhat separate you from your average fan, I suppose.

Leper Messiah

There is always going to be a strongest personality in any group, and a main creative influence in any band; you rarely hear Chris Novoselic getting much credit for Nirvana's songs, nor Charlie Watts for the Stones. While every Metallica song is a James Hetfield joint, Lars Ulrich's influence on the band is huge. And people hate him. Justified or not (none of us really know him), he rarely does himself any favours: when people watch your film and end up sympathising with Dave Mustaine, you are clearly doing something wrong. Since Cliff Burton's death, Lars' influence on production has been vast. On a sonically balanced album, one instrument should not immediately jump out at you as dominant; the drums on Metallica albums have become more and more prominent and unless you're as good as Dave Lombardo or Brann Dailor, they really shouldn't. Lars definitely isn't.

Broken Beat & Scarred

Sad but true, Metallica are just not the live band they once were. Time waits for no man and Metallica are no exception. When you consider how well their staple live songs are known by the fans, any deviation or error will be noticeable. Some years back, I saw all-female Metallica tribute band Misstallica play. They were better than the real thing back then, and clearly very drunk while doing it. These days, there would be no contest. Metallica, to use a football analogy, have lost a yard of pace and this is at times painfully obvious. It will come to a point where people go to their shows purely for familiarity rather than quality.

Consider Metallica's influences and the big rock bands that preceded them: Kiss, Iron Maiden, Thin Lizzy, Motorhead, Black Sabbath. Not as fast, not as tight, often more bluesy and loose. Music that is arguably less demanding to play. But if you're in front of 20,000 people and you're expected to play 'Master Of Puppets' or 'Battery' at full tempo, it's a different proposition than having to play 'Paranoid' or 'Iron Man' (I can play those songs and I suck). If one of the four musicians is ever so slightly off, it's going to tell. Lars is not the greatest drummer, and James Hetfield's powers are fading. Hell, even Slayer were losing their touch before the tragic loss of Jeff Hanneman forced them to replace him with an admittedly better guitar player. Don't get me wrong, Metallica are still a commanding live act but considering how good they used to be, that extra yard of pace makes all the difference.

The Thing That Should Not Be?

With the weight of expectation, largely placed on their own shoulders, Metallica will surely be expected to tour, play festivals and be very very public once the new record finally arrives. Will they be able to physically pull this off? Emotionally, they have very publically struggled with this but the expectation from their huge fanbase is that they will be an all-conquering heavy metal juggernaut. Will they attempt another fast, modern thrash album like Death Magnetic or push things in another direction that might make things easier for them. Or does the fact that I'm asking these questions suggest that they should give it up before they start damaging their considerable legacy? Maybe these keyboard warriors are right when they suggest that whatever they do next just won't be good enough.