While there is no doubting the rifftacular mightiness of Master Of Puppets and the raw, brass knuckled assault of ‘Kill ‘Em All’ or the botched mix brilliance of ‘…And Justice For All’, there’s only one desert island Metallica album for me and that’s ‘Ride The Lightning’. To add to the overwhelming atmosphere of enheavyment in the studio, the band sawed through sheet metal with chainsaws, interred a microphone with shovels and dirt and even recorded dog whistles in an attempt to make listeners’ pets to go mad and attack them while the record was playing. When it came out in 1982, music simply had never been as nasty, as fast and as brutish as it was here. Not content with naming the Black Metal genre they also laid the groundwork for most of what we would call extreme metal today. Newcastle madmen Venom straddled the visionary/idiot divide with great aplomb for many years but despite being a laughing stock to many at the time, they produced two albums – Welcome To Hell and Black Metal – that were so ahead of their time, their effect is still being felt now, 30-years later.
#Best thrash metal albums full#
Producer Martin Birch – responsible for helping cement the group’s classic sound on cuts such as ‘Run To The Hills’ and ’22 Acacia Avenue’ – got into a road accident with a car full of nuns during recording and his repair bill came to £666. However you slice it though, Bruce Dickinson’s 1983 debut as vocalist is a copper bottomed, titanium plated work of genius. You could argue a good case for any of Maiden’s albums released in the 1980s to be amongst the best of the decade, including the self titled debut and Killers that featured Paul Di’Anno on vocals. Iron Maiden – ‘The Number of the Beast’ (1982) Tightly coiled basslines, war drums, caustic, looped riffs and the mania of fragmented personalities compacted into end of the world dance music. This, their second album – recorded before Youth ended up being sectioned to a psychiatric hospital and the rest of the band decamped to Iceland believing the Apocalypse was coming – is a masterclass in tension (no pun intended). While never True Metal, Killing Joke have been one of the most important influences on the genre over the last three decades, stamping their serrated tribal stomp all over Ministry, Nirvana, Metallica, Prong, Korn, Godflesh, Faith No More and Marilyn Manson amongst others. Killing Joke – ‘What’s THIS For…!’ (1981) On a separate note, why do bands not dress up as cowboys and pose for pictures on Margate Beach any more? While every self-respecting rock fan should own ‘Overkill’ and ‘Bomber’, the third part of the Motorhead Imperial Period trilogy has its own fair share of peaks including a rare slow number in the form of unreconstructed and rampant ‘The Chase Is Better Than The Catch’, the work ethic flaunting ‘We Are The Road Crew’ and the priapic ‘Love Me Like A Reptile’. The reason why it’s not important however is that it’s such a fucking great record, that it stands to be repeated.
No one wants to admit that all Motorhead albums prior to ‘Orgasmatron’ in 1986 are all essentially the same record. This list is unranked but know this: all of these albums are evidence of true genius and should rightfully be listened to while standing on a hillock constructed from the bloodied limbs of your vanquished enemies, naked from the waist down and dressed as Idi Amin from the waist up while drinking a fine pale cream sherry from the hollowed out skull of your accountant (and if this is not practical, then lying face down on your kitchen floor in a blissful haze of Jagermeister will suffice). And yes, I have actually heard albums by Ozzy Osbourne/ W.A.S.P./ Helloween/ Tank/ Van Halen/ Motley Crue/ GunsN’Roses/ Stryper/ Saxon/ Anthrax/ Red Hot Chili Peppers/ Faith No More/ Testament/ Def Leppard/ Twisted Sister/ UFO/ Girlschool/ Queensryche etc… I just don’t like them as much, if at all. Not that it needs spelling out, but I will do anyway: this list reflects my own taste in music and isn’t by any means what you’d call scientifically or even logically constructed.
With this in mind, there will be no hair metal on my watch – it is an unsightly, festering, pus-laden boil on the otherwise flawless silken smooth buttocks of this fine musical form. It is a testament to the unimpeachable strength of metal in this decade that there is only room for bona fide classics here.
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