It is a new key they invented whilst in a particularly protracted group therapy session. James was busy not drinking in one corner whilst Lars yelled into a small Brabantia pedal binabout how misunderstood he was and Kirk looked on bemused as he couldn’t fathom why no-one had sussed he’s been playing the same rubbishsolo for all these years.
Fortunately this album is as heavy as ever albeit we cannot hear an ounce of the rhythm being provided by the insanely talented [insert name of current bass player].
Whilst it’s not interesting in any way - it’s certainly worthy of note that all eleven songs on this masterpiece were written.
The coverart concept is brilliant - combining a picture of some sort with the name of the band (and the album title) - written in actual words - across the bottom bit of it, sort of in the middle.
Having said all that this album has a sort of menacing swagger and it leaves you unsure whether to adore it or hide in the shed and tell no tales. The riffs fly at you like those freaky monkey things in the Wizard Of Oz. Christ those things used to sh*t me up big time. What kind of weirdo puts that in a kids' film?
