For Christmas 2025, I received a poster listing 100 albums everyone should hear before they kick the proverbial bucket. So, in 2026, I intend to listen to every last one of ‘em and write about it here. Some I already adore, some I’ve never heard of, and some I’m utterly baffled as to why anyone would waste their time. Either way I’ll be sharing my thoughts and impressions on all 100 records throughout the year. I hope you enjoy the ride!

Back when I was in sixth form, my friend group consisted basically entirely of metalheads. Some of the other students apparently referred to us as ‘The Black T-shirt Crew’, and Manowar’s Brothers of Metal was our unofficial anthem. Needless to say then, Metallica was on heavy rotation in our circle. Despite that, the band never really clicked with me. The raw thrash sound didn’t really tickle my pickle, and I always said I was more of a Megadeth guy, owing to - what I perceived as - the more melodious approach to metal that Mustaine and co took in their songwriting and production.

Fast forward to 2024, and one of my best mates invited me out to Poland for two Metallica live shows. One on the Friday, one on the Sunday, two completely different setlists (an arrangement more legacy acts - Iron Maiden for example - should really replicate). Close to fours of a band you’ve always professed not to be particularly keen on might sound like to torture to some, but I deemed it a small price to pay for a weekend on the piss in Warsaw with one of the lads, and a cracking weekend was had by all. I still flew home three days later, despite having enjoyed both gigs, not classing myself as a Metallica fan though.

Listening to the so-called ‘Black Album’ this week though, and I can’t fight it any longer. I think I like Metallica. Half of these songs are not just familiar, but are ones I know every lyric, riff and note to - by virtue of having spent most of my life from 17 onwards in the kind of establishment where Sad But True and Enter Sandman are almost guaranteed an outing.

Beyond that though, the likes of Wherever I May Roam and Don’t Tread On Me kick like a startled stallion - and as soon as the choruses kicked in I realised I half knew the rest of the album already as well.

My longstanding criticisms of the band still stand. Hetfield nails the job asked of him, without (I’m sure he freely admits) being the greatest singer the world has ever seen. Even the most diehard ‘tallica fan will concede that, taken in isolation, Lars’ drumming leaves much to be desired. And I’ll never forgive Kirk Hammet for taking ownership of the same Les Paul that the legendary Peter Green and Gary Moore once made sing like an angel, and running it through a fucking Mesa Boogie of all things.

All of that having been said, the Bay Area behemoths are clearly greater than the sum of their parts. And when you record an album that’s as brutal as this, well, nothing else matters does it?