How metal \m/ can a crib be? How rebellious can a crib be? How “I wanna rock!” can a crib be?
Imagine the most metal \m/, rebellious, and “I wanna rock!” baby crib you can and then go track down down the new Metallica album cover and see how you did.
Obviously Rock Gods can do no wrong. So I have no fear of them putting out bad music. Remember, I even own and enjoy Lulu.
But I’m sitting here in my home studio/office where I have a Master of Puppets T-Shirt draped over a lamp to get the lighting right. Hands holding puppet strings over a cemetery just feels right. Every time.
I like that they’re actually going with what they feel like doing. They’re old and they have time to reflect on why they have done what they’ve done. Childhood is a tremendous influence. I get it. But I want to record here that there are elements that must be there for rock to be rock.
Hammer? Blood? Cemetery? Electric chair? Lady Justice? Blackness? Auto-body shops? Random fluids? Fists? Coffins? Life-like, damaged prostitute torsos? Glitchy photos?
All these seem pretty darn uniform to me. My inner scholar labels them as within the same semantic domain.
I’m just glad we’re all mature enough to not be dissuaded by a “miss”.