LARS ULRICH: THE 72 SEASONS (AND M72) INTERVIEW

Time is an abstract. No, really, it is. In that regard, perhaps we should say that Lars Ulrich recently sat down with So What! for his 72 Seasons interview at the perfect moment. While several months after the other band members spoke about it, the album is still fresh in the memory, yet far enough in the distance to allow a more objective overview of its creative process. We even get the bonus perspective of the added dimension that playing the songs live on the M72 World Tour has created.

Perhaps most telling is that I thought we’d look to make our chat a little shorter, you know, tighten things up a bit. Yeah… right. And while print puts parameters on these things, thankfully, the web does not. So here it is, Lars in conversation about 72 Seasons, M72, and, significantly, where he’s at as a human being in the middle of all that. Get some tea and join us, why don’t you?

Photo Credit: Tim Saccenti

Steffan Chirazi: Let’s start with the rear-view perspective on the making of 72 Seasons. Looking at it now and the process it took (remote recording, Jason Gossman controlling your laptop, etc.), does it seem like some faraway crazy dream?

Lars Ulrich: I think every Metallica record has its own journey, its own story, its own path forward. They’re all unique, and I think you accept all of them. The one common thread between all the Metallica records is that they’re done with the best intent, the purest intent, and always an attempt in that moment to write the best songs to create the best collection of songs.

Then there’s a set of practicals that play a role in that at some level. So obviously, now with 72 Seasons being out a couple, what, four or five months, the record’s still very fresh to me. I like what I’m hearing. I don’t listen to it very often, but just six weeks ago, when we started the North American run in New York, there were a couple more songs that we wanted to learn. So I listened to those songs and listened to the record. I don’t think I’d heard it in six weeks, but it still sounded very fresh, weighty, and cohesive. You know, I’ve said this many times: there’s what I call the “honeymoon period,” which is when you make a record and finish a record, you put that record in your back pocket, and then you go off into the world. And at some point, you listen to that record again, and at some point, you start having some questions about the choices that were made. [For] different records at different times, that honeymoon period can be short, can be long, whatever. So, four to five months later, I still don’t have a lot of questions. I’m happy with what I’m hearing, I’m appreciative, and I like the choices that were made.

The interesting thing about this record is also – and this kind of dawned upon me as I was doing interviews for 72 Seasons in the spring – that every record, through no choice of your own, is always related to the previous record. If you like the previous record, that affects where you’re going with the next record. If you don’t like the previous record, that affects where you’re going with the next record. So, in terms of the lineage of the records, the next record is always tethered to the previous record in some way, shape, or form.

I have made no secret of the fact that Hardwired, certainly for the most part from ’16/’17 forward, has been a record that, in my ears, has aged really, really well. So, when we started the process of what became 72 Seasons, there was no radical attempt to alter the course forward because Hardwired felt like a really good jumping-off point. Obviously, the parameters were different in that we were in lockdown. There was a lot of uncertainty; the band was trying to figure out its place. And how do we pick the pieces up again? That’s already been talked about a little bit with “Blackened 2020” [the track discussed by others previously in this series - ED]. And then, during that awful and unprecedented time in lockdown, how do we make music? How do we connect to our fans and to our friends and family out there? How do we make a difference as Metallica? And that eventually led us to start writing songs and to do the stuff remotely and through computers and Zoom sessions, etc., etc., etc. Then, ending up here at HQ, masked and under many Covid restrictions. Eventually, as things got more and more “along,” the process became more and more normalized, whatever that means in the context of making a record. So, in hindsight, now the record’s been out for five months, I’m happy with it. We’ve played eight of these songs live, [and they’re] super fun to play. I think all eight songs that we played live are connecting with the audience, with the fans, maybe a few of them slightly at a deeper level than others. We’re digging what we’re doing, and as I said, the easy way to sum it up is that there are no radical red flags.

SC: One thing you have not touched on, which is extremely significant, is James. He went back to rehab and through a cycle that I think you’re very familiar with; you’ve lived it before. Where did that figure into this album’s creation and being written? Did you have fears at that time (that the band might not make it)? Do you think it was easier that you weren’t all in the same studio?

LU: That falls into the “what-if” questions, and I’m never a big proponent of the “what-if” question. “What if this happened instead of that?” Well, it didn’t. We moved forward with the situation that we’re in.

SC: But you’re a thinker; you would’ve considered this. I can’t believe you would’ve just moved on and been like, “Okay, none of that happened.”

LU: As you’re going through a process, there are two parts to it. There’s the “going through and moving forward,” and then there is the “sitting and talking about it two or three years later” and trying to figure out what spin you’re going to put on it. Those are two different kinds of things, so to walk through every emotion, or every up or down that happened to you at this point or that point, I mean, I don’t know if I have enough of a specific memory.

What James went through at the tail end of ’19 into ’20 was something where it really felt like I – and the rest of the guys in the band – had to give him the space that he needed, had to really take a step back, and just suspend everything that was on the table. We needed to do that for our friend and for our bandmate and partner. Then, slowly, the pieces started coming back together in the spring of ’20, and then everything got side-swiped by the horrific [events] of Covid and the lockdown. So, as we were giving the inner-band dynamics the time that they needed, we realized that there was no need to rush anything. And at the same time, like I said before, [we were] trying to figure out: how does Metallica make a difference, how can music make a difference, what can we do?

I still can’t get away from the analogy I’ve said a million times: you’re trying to keep the train on the tracks. You don’t want to necessarily 100% force its direction, but you want to ensure the train doesn’t derail. And when I think back on 2020, that’s kind of the overview. Obviously, there were a couple of things. There was the drive-in theater concert, and every time that we got back together, every time we would do Zoom calls or whatever, we would start understanding what headspace everybody was in and what everybody was capable of and willing to do. Also, where all the boundaries were as you were trying to move it forward.

But nothing radically different than other times that we’d been challenged in the past, so there’s a part of me that sort of just… you roll your sleeves up. You want to get back and get engaged. You accept the parameters that are put on it, and you try to make progress within those. Three years later, we have this incredible record. It’s hard to believe that a part of what lives in this record – the energy, the lyrics, the themes, production, all of it – is not somehow correlated to the challenges that were thrown our way.

Photo Credit: Brett Murray

SC: I’m going to stick on this point for a moment because I think it’s very important. I was looking at the “20 Years of Anger” exhibition in The Metallica Black Box. I remember that period as being incredibly challenging for, I guess, Metallica, but essentially for you. Equally, I remember you being “the custodian.” You just said there’s a side of you that rolls up your sleeves and just gets on with it… but that’s you, right? You take on the work to push through and to get it done. Whatever that may be. Do you think that you are someone who finds comfort in the refuge of that hard work at tough times? If you put the jacket and gloves on, and you get in there, and you steer the ship, is that your way of comfortably dealing with turbulent situations?

LU: It’s a good question. The first thought that comes to mind is that the period you’re talking about is 20 years ago; it was actually more than 22 years ago. So, at that time, it felt like we were still not far enough into it to fully accept that it could maybe derail. It felt like there were still a lot of things that had to be done, said, played, whatever phrase you want to put on it. Now, it feels like everything that we’re doing is what we do, and this is who we are. People often ask me in interviews, “What is left to accomplish?” And I go, “Well, the thing that’s left now is just sticking around!” It’s almost like you’re on borrowed time now; nobody thought that you would be doing this 40 years into your run. Nobody could fathom that when we started. It dawned upon me the other day that when we started, Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, all these guys were still in their 30s. So, there was no road map for playing rock and roll in your late 50s, early 60s, or, in the case of Jagger and McCartney, in their late 70s and early 80s. So, everything that we’re doing now feels like it’s sort of a bonus.