The 1981 track “One” by Metallica is a sprawling, seven minute thrash metal masterpiece written about a soldier who has lost his limbs, sight, speech, and hearing to a landmine. Trapped inside of his own body, his only remaining function is the ability to think and use his own head to tap on his pillow and beg for death in morse code. The song, which earned Metallica their first Grammy award in 1990, was inspired by Dalton Trumbo’s 1938 anit war novel, Johnny Got His Gun. Musically, it represents a battlefield, it opens with a violent machine gun and the sound of soldiers shouting that captures the absolute chaos of war, but art has a strange habit of mutating. A beautiful electric guitar begins to play over the chaos, shortly joined by a second guitar and drums as well. We take these gorgeous pieces designed by artists and use them to decorate the interiors of our own much smaller lives. Sometimes, a song written about the absolute darkest depths of human isolation becomes the exact tether that connects two people together.
I learned this on an ordinary car ride home from school, when the heavy opening chords of “One” started playing through the speakers. My dad looked over at me and said, “Zoe! This is our song!” I was completely confused, that’s not exactly the kind of track that you expect to share with your dad. The song’s backstory is a landscape of trauma and confinement, full of agonizing lyrics like “Hold my breath as I wish for death.” But as my dad explained the history behind his words, the song transformed completely.
He took me back to the very beginning of my life. When I was first born, I couldn’t come home right away, I had to stay in the NICU. My parents were stranded in the exhausting environment that only a hospital can create, they were drained, terrified, and desperate to just be home with their new baby. My mom has experienced a spinal block when giving birth to me and was too physically sick to stand up, and my dad was fresh off of a long day at work and supporting my mom through giving birth to me. My dad finally got the opportunity to sit down for the first time all day, and as soon as he hit the chair, before he could even lay his head back, my mom asked him, “please go be with her.” She explained that she couldn’t stand in order to be with me so he needed to. He immediately shot up from his hospital chair and rushed into the room where I was sleeping. He sat quietly by my side just watching me breathe, making sure I was safe in a world that felt incredibly fragile.
Then, the universe introduced a bizarre counterpoint to the quiet anxiety of the NICU room. My dads phone rang. It was my Uncle Tony, standing in the middle of a roaring, chaotic crowd at a live Metallica concert. Without a word, uncle Tony just held his phone up to the sky. Through the tiny speaker of a cell phone, cutting through the sterile quiet of a hospital ward, my dad and I listened to Metallica play “one” live.
Hearing that story changed the entire architecture of the song for me. The track is built on the sound of a mechanical heartbeat, meant to represent a soldier trapped in a medical nightmare. But for my dad and I, it became the soundtrack to the moment he watched over my fragile heartbeat. While James Hetfield sang about isolation, my dad was actively breaking it, bridging the gap between a chaotic rock concert, a quiet hospital room, and the daughter he was protecting.
We don’t get to choose how songs collide with our lives. A track born out of an anti- war novel shouldn’t feel like a lullaby, but every time I hear the opening riff now, I don’t think about a battlefield. I think about a father sitting under harsh hospital lights, holding a phone to a newborn baby’s ear, making sure she knew she wasn’t alone in the dark.
Overall I give “One” by Metallica 4.5/5 stars, because my dad never gives anything 5/5 stars to leave room for improvement.The 1981 track “One” by Metallica is a sprawling, seven minute thrash metal masterpiece written about a soldier who has lost his limbs, sight, speech, and hearing to a landmine. Trapped inside of his own body, his only remaining function is the ability to think and use his own head to tap on his pillow and beg for death in morse code. The song, which earned Metallica their first Grammy award in 1990, was inspired by Dalton Trumbo’s 1938 anit war novel, Johnny Got His Gun. Musically, it represents a battlefield, it opens with a violent machine gun and the sound of soldiers shouting that captures the absolute chaos of war, but art has a strange habit of mutating. A beautiful electric guitar begins to play over the chaos, shortly joined by a second guitar and drums as well. We take these gorgeous pieces designed by artists and use them to decorate the interiors of our own much smaller lives. Sometimes, a song written about the absolute darkest depths of human isolation becomes the exact tether that connects two people together.
I learned this on an ordinary car ride home from school, when the heavy opening chords of “One” started playing through the speakers. My dad looked over at me and said, “Zoe! This is our song!” I was completely confused, that’s not exactly the kind of track that you expect to share with your dad. The song’s backstory is a landscape of trauma and confinement, full of agonizing lyrics like “Hold my breath as I wish for death.” But as my dad explained the history behind his words, the song transformed completely.
He took me back to the very beginning of my life. When I was first born, I couldn’t come home right away, I had to stay in the NICU. My parents were stranded in the exhausting environment that only a hospital can create, they were drained, terrified, and desperate to just be home with their new baby. My mom has experienced a spinal block when giving birth to me and was too physically sick to stand up, and my dad was fresh off of a long day at work and supporting my mom through giving birth to me. My dad finally got the opportunity to sit down for the first time all day, and as soon as he hit the chair, before he could even lay his head back, my mom asked him, “please go be with her.” She explained that she couldn’t stand in order to be with me so he needed to. He immediately shot up from his hospital chair and rushed into the room where I was sleeping. He sat quietly by my side just watching me breathe, making sure I was safe in a world that felt incredibly fragile.
Then, the universe introduced a bizarre counterpoint to the quiet anxiety of the NICU room. My dads phone rang. It was my Uncle Tony, standing in the middle of a roaring, chaotic crowd at a live Metallica concert. Without a word, uncle Tony just held his phone up to the sky. Through the tiny speaker of a cell phone, cutting through the sterile quiet of a hospital ward, my dad and I listened to Metallica play “one” live.
Hearing that story changed the entire architecture of the song for me. The track is built on the sound of a mechanical heartbeat, meant to represent a soldier trapped in a medical nightmare. But for my dad and I, it became the soundtrack to the moment he watched over my fragile heartbeat. While James Hetfield sang about isolation, my dad was actively breaking it, bridging the gap between a chaotic rock concert, a quiet hospital room, and the daughter he was protecting.
We don’t get to choose how songs collide with our lives. A track born out of an anti- war novel shouldn’t feel like a lullaby, but every time I hear the opening riff now, I don’t think about a battlefield. I think about a father sitting under harsh hospital lights, holding a phone to a newborn baby’s ear, making sure she knew she wasn’t alone in the dark.
Overall I give “One” by Metallica 4.5/5 stars, because my dad never gives anything 5/5 stars to leave room for improvement.
Leave a comment