There was something about the pandemic that made thrash really click for me. Sure every idiot (yours truly included) got into metal through Metallica and Megadeth, but much like sickos and porn, once you discover something dirty, you go find something dirtier until you need the kind of stuff you’d never show your Grandma even if paid to do so. Thrash becomes that relic toy that you look at fondly but don’t play with anymore while death and black metal fling audio filth in your ears. That all changed for me in two key ways in 2020. First, I stumbled upon Master of Puppets for the first time in a very long while and was reminded that classics are classics for a reason. I’ll never not laugh every time you hear a new band try to pass off a recycled Metallica riff as anything but, especially wh...
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