Metallica, "Wherever I May Roam"

7 Days to Find a Home



James Hetfield's self-empowering anthem depicts a vagabond unbound by commitment, material possessions or any authority: Invictus as a headbanger. Employing an electric sitar and twelve-string bass over an undeniable hook, Metallica's unconventional arrangement still sounds like a single entity, six minutes of metal power without as much as a blast beat or even a scream. Some of the weirdest, tightest one-man vocal harmonies this side of Prince. A sitar on modern rock radio. On the Black Album, Metallica was honoring the Beatles and subverting them, claiming their place as the biggest band in rock by writing their own rules (sometimes with a sitar). They lived impervious to trends and created new ones.

"Wherever I May Roam" is arguably the highlight of the Black Album, even over the signature "Enter Sandman" and "Nothing Else Matters", or the classic "Unforgiven" and "Sad But True". Out of the entire album, "Wherever I May Roam" sounds the least like any other Metallica songs, and therefore is the most Metallica-worthy, knocking out metal conventions, preconceived notions and mainstream pretenders by trying something completely different. It's a sense of adventure that complements the lyrics, and one that has come closest to defining Metallica, for better (The first five studio albums) and worse (the next three) over their entire career. "Wherever I May Roam" emphasized the fact that Metallica could keep adapting their music without conforming to anyone else's standards.

It also helped establish an influence that has stood unmatched in metal over the past 20 years. "The song is probably the closest thing to a personal anthem for me," wrote metal intellectual/wanderer Cosmo Lee. "The Phrygian-flavored intro is delightful; years of metal have made Phrygian modes feel much more natural to me than standard major/minor scales. But when it shifts up a half step at :58, it feels like a wonderland opening up – which connotes the openness of the road that the song celebrates."

The Replacements, "Nowhere is My Home"

24 Days to Find a Home



"Nowhere is My Home" is a rare 'Mats tune, from import EP Boink, which only us superfans (and if you've heard the Replacements, how could you be anything else?) know. So imagine my shock and pleasure at seeing them play it at their magnificent return to New York, more than two decades after their breakup, in Forrest Hills last summer.

Produced by Paul Westerberg's hero Alex Chilton, it's about as 'Matsy as a song can get--scruffy, lovable, contagious and mostly ignored. The lyrics and poor mix underscore Nick Hornby's comment about Westerberg being "everyone's favorite coulda-beena-contender." It's a theme he immerses in, to say the least (years later, on the Beatles tribute I am Sam soundtrack, he covered, of course, "Nowhere Man"). "I can see the ship's full of holes / Even though with a heave and a ho we'll raise the sails" starts the ever-optimistic losers' anthem, building to the climactic chorus, an "I'm Nobody! Who are you?" for the Sex Pistols era:

"I didn't deserve it
To feel so disconcerted
Nowhere
That's my home, dear
Nowhere
Is where I'm from
Nowhere
Ain't too far from here"

How dreary to be somebody. And what a joy to be Nowhere with the Replacements.

Jimi Hendrix, "Angel"

Naming "Angel" as your favorite Hendrix song is a little like saying that Paul McCartney is your favorite Beatle. It's not as popular as John or "Purple Haze," nor is it as cool as George or "1983... (A Merman I Should Turn to Be)." But judging on songcraft alone, it stands above the rest.



Why is that? There's nothing particularly flashy about it, which might be why Jimi never released it in his lifetime. But for an artist whose songs are pretty much universally loved, Hendrix never seems to get enough credit as a composer. Sure, everyone admirers the guitar playing, but he also had an impeccable sense of melody, knowing when to use a good, subtle progression and give it breathing room, the way that he does here. Jeff Beck would have probably gussied it up until it was lost in a nine-minute jam, and Clapton would need outside songwriting help to come up with anything like it. If I believed in angels, I'd thank them that Jimi gave this song the structure and lyrics that it deserves.

Something about this magic little song transcends arrangements and performances. I love the orchestrated version, performed here by Gil Evans' band in the 70s.



Fiona Apple's rendition on MTV Unplugged is as lovely as anything I can think of (starts around 10:43).



Even Rod Stewart and the Faces could stop being silly on Top of the Pops long enough to show some reverence.



Songs usually don't get covered this often unless a) Everyone likes them, and/or b) People assume they can sing it better than the original performer (see "Blowin' in the Wind" or "Hallelujah.") With "Angel," I wonder if it's a little of both--people like it, and most people think of Jimi as the Guitar God and leave it at that. But most likely, Hendrix just created a mood that everyone wants to be a part of. Fly on, my sweet angel.

Paul McCartney on The Howard Stern Show

On whether "Helter Skelter" invented heavy metal:

KISS, "Detroit Rock City"

The Motor City's influence on rock n' roll is unquestionable. The last 60 years of popular music are unthinkable without Motown, and with The Stooges, MC5, Alice Cooper, Ted Nugent and even Grand Funk Railroad, Michigan's largest city almost had a monopoly on early '70s hard rock and proto-punk. But when I think of Detroit, the first thing that comes to mind is a group of headbanging New Yorkers singing its praises.



For a band that gets mocked for being so unabashedly commercial, "Detroit Rock City" is a pretty weird song. The album version starts with a prolonged intro of background noise, which is still the only part on Destroyer that I skip over, and it ends with a car crash sounds that is terrorizing for anyone who listens while driving. The song's title, one of the best things about it, gets left out of most of the choruses. "Detroit Rock City" doesn't even get KISS' standard structure (the verse-chorus-verse is twice disrupted by that awesome bridge) or subject matter (quick: name another KISS song that isn't about girls or being in a rock band.) For once, Gene Simmons sounds like he cares about playing bass. Ace Frehley, sometimes thought of as the band's only musician, plays it pretty safe during the solo.

Yet it sounds utterly great all together. KISS hadn't learned to stay in their comfort zone yet, and that innocence rewarded them with a stone cold classic, putting them in a league with Black Sabbath and Queen. But this is still KISS, and of course "Detroit Rock City" is best heard from the stage. I love this performance here, captured at the end of the film of the same name.



Listening to "Detroit Rock City" today, I'm reminded of a Bruce Campbell anecdote from a horror convention. During a Q & A, one attendee asked the lantern-jawed Evil Dead star if he had any advice for an aspiring B movie actor. "You don't aspire to be a B movie actor," said Campbell. "You aspire to be an A movie actor, and if you're lucky you end up in Z movies."

It's no secret that KISS wanted to the biggest band in the world, in particular the Beatles--four distinct rock star personalities, run by the guitarist and bassist, with occasional songwriting from the lead guitarist and a few songs written for the drummer to sing. Like everybody else, they didn't quite get there, and "Detroit Rock City" isn't the Beatles. KISS were trying to be an A band, and maybe they'll never be The Fab Four or The World's Greatest Rock N' Roll Band. But in "Detroit Rock City," they're The Hottest Band in the World, a truly incredible B band.