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“Traumatic! Volcanic! Psychotic! Demonic! Hypnotic!” So goes the rhyme scheme of Metallica 72 Seasons title tune. They’re obviously not aiming for subtlety. They’ve previously irritated fans by attempting to tone down their last two recordings, but as they approach their sixties, the band returns to the thoroughly captivating thrash metal with which they built their reputation. And, to be honest, no band in the globe is better at writing and executing huge songs that head hugger-mugger towards the horizon in a way that makes listeners feel like they’re hugging the curves and swerving the spills of a Formula One racetrack when they’re on form. Songs don’t follow formulas; they merely rip down the straights and weave wildly through the turns as they arrive. Lars Ulrich’s unrelenting riff-making and James Hetfield’s screaming exaggeration lock into each other like a hammer on a nail.

The Age of Pleasure is a refreshing and liberating album that invites listeners to enter Monáe’s oasis of pleasure and joy.