Using 1984’s Ride the Lightning as a template, Metallica tries to recapture their pre-"Black" days. There’s rumor that St. Anger was recorded live from long-time producer Bob Rock’s home studio to rekindle their original sound: lots of unpolished riffs, rough, sloppy vocals, naked rim-shots. Sounds like pre-"Black" Metallica to me…on paper. This idea, somewhere between conceptualization and mastering, didn’t materialize. The opening cut, “Frantic” has the same raw, edginess that’s heard throughout the album. It would be a decent song, if anyone but Metallica was playing it. “Frantic” has no melodic chorus. It’s void of Lars Ulrich’s trademark, intricate drumming style; on this and every other song on St. Anger, the snare drum annoyingly goes “ping” instead of “snap”. No guitar solo (and not a single one on the entire album. I know: disappointing). They’ve returned to their roots. Fine. The old stuff had everything this song lacked.

The title track is the album’s most commercial song, but it’s the most rockin’. Bob Rock keeps the bass-work interesting. In the absence of guitar solos, Hammett plays a memorable combination of melodious fills and heavy thrashing. This is all accompanied by vocals that weave masterfully between the dissonant melody and crunching riffs. The drumming is great too…well, except for the snare. It’ll make you want to tear your hair out, by the time you get to “Invisible Kid”. There are more issues with the song than the drum-work too. The lyrics. They leave much to be desired and it isn’t more evident than on “Invisible Kid”: Invisible kid/Never stuck where he did/Fallen through the grid. It’s a typical Metallica song about suffering and alienation, but Hetfield could have squeezed in more sophisticated lyrics. Decent thrashing parts on this one, but it’s not as metallically heavy as it could be. It’s more hardcore punk than anything. “Purify” is a decent song. It’s got classic Metallic riffs, a low, grumbling bass and Hetfield’s trademark, gravelly vocals. It’s a shame it took until St. Anger’s next-to-last song for Metallica to start sounding like themselves.

So, does St. Anger end on a good note? It actually does. “All Within My Hands” is loud, punishing, unrepentant Metallica. It’s long, winding segments sway back and forth between manic-paced insanity and gig, meaty grooves. The drums finally sound like they’re supposed to. Hammett and Rock team up for some heavy shredding. And Hetfield’s hacksaw vocals are back in full-swing. (I could have done without the “kill, kill, kill” chorus at the end; it’s comical, but in a pathetic way). I’m happy I didn’t have to buy St. Anger. It’s a daring attempt to recapture the intensity of yesteryear, but it falls short of it’s target.