Leather Charm song written by Hetfield and Hugh Tanner. Despite a title cribbed from Diamond Head’s ‘Shoot Out the Lights’,and a key and tempo on loan from Motörhead, in Hetfield and Ulrich’s hands its presentation and delivery was nonetheless thrilling. It begins, as all significant things should, with chaos: a swell of guitars building in heft, volume and density, a rattle of tom-toms and then a single guitar thrusting forward with an irresistibly propulsive riff. ‘No life ’til leather, we are gonna kick some ass tonight’ squeals James Hetfield, introducing a lyric as dumb as a sack of spanners but sweetly engaging in its naivety. Appropriately, given that the composition was pieced together in Ulrich’s Park Newport bedroom, the song is a bedroom fantasy with its foundations in the duo’s own gig-going experiences: at the time, of course, Metallica had no fans, ‘screaming’, ‘insane’ or otherwise. But, as a manifesto of intent, the track is quite startling in its clarity and ambition.
‘I knew it was going to be heavy,’ says Kornarens, ‘because when Brian and I were setting up in which order the bands appeared on the record I was talking to Lars and I said, “Lars, it’s going to be heavy, right?” And so I said, “I’ll put you last on the album because we want to go out strong.” So when I heard it I thought, “Well, it’s definitely got energy and intensity.” The production sounded pretty bad and James’s singing was kinda streaky, but who cares? It had the energy and the explosion at the very end was the perfect way for the album to end.’
Only in subsequent weeks did Lars Ulrich admit to his friends exactly how close
Metal Massacre
came to being a nine- rather than ten-track showcase of the Los Angeles underground metal community. He and Hetfield had committed the song to cassette on a borrowed TEAC four-track recorder only the day prior to the album’s mastering date. And though Hetfield had supplied both rhythm and bass guitar tracks for the recording, come the morning of deadline day ‘Hit the Lights’ had yet to be furnished with lead guitar breaks. In desperation, Ulrich called upon a gifted Jamaican guitarist named Lloyd Grant, with whom he hadjammed earlier in the year (Grant having responded to one of the drummer’s ads in
The Recycler
) to supply lead guitar flourishes. As Slagel and Kornarens sat in Bijou Studios overseeing the first stages of the mastering process, Ulrich and Hetfield were still sitting in Grant’s front room, watching the guitarist nail his solo in just one take. ‘He was a cool guy with a great attitude,’ Hetfield recalled, ‘and he could really shred. But he could not play rhythm guitar, which was really strange. So on the way to dropping our tape in to Brian, we stopped off at his house, he threw down a solo and off we went. And that was it for him.’
Though it would be early June before Metallica would receive the initial pressings of their vinyl debut from Brian Slagel, Hetfield and Ulrich now at least had a professional demo tape to play to interested parties. They did not, however, have a band worthy of the name. While Hetfield could adequately cover for the absence of both a guitar player and bassist in a studio environment, he and Ulrich recognised that in order to take their fledgling union beyond the realms of recorded music and out on to the Sunset Strip and beyond, Metallica would require an injection of new blood. To secure a bass player, Hetfield cast his net in the smallest possible arc, leaning on Ron McGovney to help out once again, despite his friend’s repeated protestations that he really wasn’t interested, having decided instead to pursue a career in photography. The quest for a guitar player, meanwhile, sent Ulrich back to the ‘Musicians Wanted’ section of the by now invaluable
The Recycler
. This time his advert specified that interested parties should be a fan of Iron Maiden, Motörhead and Welsh power
Lisa Black
Margaret Duffy
Erin Bowman
Kate Christensen
Steve Kluger
Jake Bible
Jan Irving
G.L. Snodgrass
Chris Taylor
Jax