Rock Around the Doc: Metallica in Therapy

It took two years and more than a million dollars in group therapy for the macho icons of hard rock to save their band Metallica. But first they had to save themselves.

By Hara Estroff Marano, published on July 01, 2004 - last reviewed on August 30, 2007

James: Our whole attitude in Metallica was based on the anti-cliché, anti-image, anti-rock star, and eventually our lack of communication turned us into those things. We started to believe what was going on; we started to not keep each other in check. The machine was just rolling, and we forgot that there were humans attached to it—and we have feelings. Now we're a band almost obsessed with our health. We're eating a lot better, working out and doing silly things like sightseeing in towns we've been to a hundred times but only stumbled around in from bar to bar. Instead of naming every strip club in every town, we can now name the museums. Family has become a huge rock, a foundation in my whole life. I've really been searching for family my whole life. I felt that mine was taken away at a young age. Sometimes it's overwhelming, going home after being on tour, where everything is done for you—your toothbrush is sitting here, food is waiting, shoes are lined up for the show. I've got three kids who are needy and wanting things. I'm the kid out here, and when I go home, I'm the adult.

You guys gave up control to a completely different process. Why did you give it up, and what did you get back?

James: I gave up a lot of self-created insanity. We gained better friendships and new insight into each other's creativity.

Kirk: We're all participating in the songwriting and in every decision, when and how we're going to tour, what the schedules are going to be like, right down to artwork. This is the new Social Democratic Republic of Metallica.

Does this new process make the music better, or is it just the making of the music that's better?

James: That is an awesome question. We're trusting our intuition a lot more and being able to rely on each other's intuition. Before, intuition would always turn into control. "Well, I feel this," just because you feel that. It used to be so dreadful I would fear it. Now we look forward to going in the studio and writing. Every idea that gets put out there gets tried. In concert we're firing on all four cylinders. And when we're not, that's OK. We know that relationships don't always peak at the same time.

Kirk: Everyone's tuned to the same wavelength. We all reap the benefits and consequences together.

In the film Lars says that Metallica has proved that you can make aggressive music without negative energy. What made the difference?

Lars: The previous creative experiences were rooted in negative energy because we were always fighting and power-playing. Once we bottomed out in the summer of 2002 and the relationship started healing, the St. Anger album was created from a place of intimacy, communication, love—the whole nine yards.

Now that you've opened up the creative process and seen that you can get something back for giving up control, would you view the Napster (an online file-sharing system) challenge the same way?

Lars: It was never really about downloading for me, that was the big myth. It was about control. We're definitely control freaks, and I'll be glad to stand up and say this. I would probably treat that issue differently if it appeared on my radar for the first time in 2004. I don't think I would feel as much need to counterattack.

Is therapy something you'd recommend to other bands?

James: There are a lot of newer bands that already embrace this style of communication. Maybe we're a product of the '80s, a little bit closed and selfish. But bands these days are taking care of themselves not only physically but also mentally. I feel that therapy is a safe place for people who don't know how to communicate.

Kirk: Definitely. The Beatles would probably still be together if they'd taken the approach we've taken.