James Hetfield at 61: “Dave Mustaine Was the Fire I Needed—And the Scar I Deserve”
In a raw, unfiltered interview that’s already ripping through the metal underground like a chainsaw solo, James Hetfield finally cracked open the vault on his infamous feud with Dave Mustaine—the man who co-wrote Metallica’s birth and then lit the fuse for its most explosive rivalry.
For 42 years, the story was told in whispers and Wikipedia edits: a talented guitarist booted from Metallica in 1983 for “personality conflicts,” only to birth Megadeth and spend decades trading barbs that fueled two of thrash’s greatest empires.
Hetfield, now 61 and sober for two decades, sat down with Rolling Stone in a dimly lit L.A. warehouse—guitar cases stacked like tombstones—and admitted what fans suspected: “Dave wasn’t just a bandmate. He was the mirror I couldn’t stand to look into.”
The confessions started with the night it all blew up: April 11, 1983, in a New York apartment reeking of cheap beer and ambition.
“We were kids playing God,” Hetfield recalled, voice low and gravelly. “Dave had riffs that could cut glass—’Mechanix’ was his, and it became ‘The Four Horsemen’ because we sped it up to match our chaos. But the fights? Explosive. He’d call Lars ‘the clown,’ I’d call him ‘the diva.’ One night he threw a lamp at me. I threw back words I can’t take back.” Mustaine’s firing—after a bender-fueled argument over song credits and egos—left Hetfield with regret that still stings: “I was the angriest kid in Downey. Firing him felt like survival. Now it feels like surgery where I cut out my own twin.”
Hetfield didn’t sugarcoat the scars: “Dave’s Megadeth was our shadow—faster, meaner, always nipping at our heels.”
He revealed how Mustaine’s 1986 track “Wake Up Dead” was a veiled shot at Metallica’s rising fame, and how Rust in Peace (1990) nearly outsold …And Justice for All. “I’d hear ‘Holy Wars’ on the radio and think, ‘That’s the riff I wish I’d kept,'” Hetfield confessed. “We were brothers who became rivals because we both wanted to be the one who screamed loudest. But damn, his solos? Fire. Pure fire.”
The emotional gut-punch came when Hetfield addressed the “what ifs” that haunt every metalhead: a supergroup pitch that almost happened.
In 2012, Mustaine floated a dream collab—Hetfield, Ulrich, Mustaine, and Ellefson—but publishing disputes killed it. “Dave wouldn’t shut up about royalties from No Life ‘Til Leather,” Hetfield said with a wry smile. “I told him to let it go. He didn’t. I did. But lately? I’ve wondered. What if we’d jammed one more time? Megadeth and Metallica together? It could’ve been the Big Four’s Big Bang.”
Hetfield’s honesty peaks with regret over the human cost: “I should’ve called him sooner. Apologized for the kid who thought anger was armor.”
He revealed a 2023 text exchange where Mustaine wrote, “Still mad?” Hetfield replied, “Nah, brother. Grateful.” Their first real talk in years? “Healing,” James said. “Dave’s the scar that reminds me: genius hurts. But it builds empires.” Mustaine, reached for comment, texted back: “James gets it now. Metal’s big enough for both our egos.”
This isn’t just a tell-all; it’s therapy for a genre built on fury.
Hetfield didn’t just open old wounds—he stitched them with truth, proving that even gods bleed, and the best riffs are born from the messiest fights.
Forty-two years later, the feud isn’t over.
It’s evolved.
And metal’s never sounded more human.
