By 2003, Metallica had released seven legendary albums and critics were already anointing them among the greatest metal bands of all time. Around that same time I had just found a sweet coffee table on the side of the road. Beautiful craftsmanship, solid walnut wood, and nary a stain to be seen. I snatched it, giddy with excitement as I raced home and it fit right in with my vintage living room furniture. I couldn’t imagine the place without it. However, in my haste to appreciate aesthetic over function, I failed to notice that all four legs of this coffee table were not the same length.
Thinking quickly, I grabbed my copy of Chicago’s greatest hits, carefully removed the first disc, and used the rest of the soulless, plastic, regrettable package to prop up leg #1. The second leg was easy, only a sliver off the ground, and unfortunately it seems that my wallet-sized photo-fan of Morrissey pictures had run its course. Two birds with one stone.
I tried for weeks to get the last leg even but nothing in my apartment would fit under it just right. Nothing I was willing to lose anyway. I was beginning to lose hope. Then “St. Anger” came out and changed everything.
Ya know, a lot of people talk shit about that album but I never understood why. Maybe their coffee tables were built differently. As soon as I saw that shimmering, red fist beckoning me from the F.Y.E front display, I knew this was what I’d been searching for. A perfectly crafted .468” width jewel case of pure, guitar solo-lacking structural support. It would be the CD that changed my life.
I sit here some 16 years later writing to you from the most durable, flat, living room appurtenance to ever hold a laptop. Thank you “St. Anger” for being my favorite Metallica album of all time.
In case you’re wondering if I ever actually listened to the CD? Nah. But I did download it on Napster. Fucking sucked.