Instead of the crisp, clinical thud of the previous record, the drums are mixed "wet"—reverberating with the woody resonance of the room. Kirk Hammett isn’t reaching for his wah-wah pedal yet; he’s experimenting with a slide and a Leslie speaker, giving the iconic opening arpeggio a swirling, psychedelic shimmer that sounds more like a dark bayou than a child's bedroom.
"The riff is too... suburban," James says, his voice a gravelly drawl. He’s wearing a flannel shirt and short hair. The denim-and-leather "Black Album" era feels like a decade ago, though it’s only been four years. What If Enter Sandman was on Load?
As the track fades out with the sound of a distorted harmonica, Bob Rock smiles. "It’s moody. It’s mature. It fits the 'anti-metal' vibe we’re going for." Instead of the crisp, clinical thud of the