The newly released remastered deluxe box set does it all to remind fans just how revolutionary and how impactful the album was and still is in modern metal.

The set contains a whopping three vinyl records, 10 CDs, two DVDs, one cassette, a hardcover book chockfull of never-before-seen photos, a nice replica of a folder with handwritten lyrics, six badges and a “Damage, Inc.” (that is one of the song titles, in case you didn’t know) lithograph.

Not yet succumbing to the overwrought ambition of the following record (1988’s awesome but not Master of Puppets awesome ... And Justice For All), the album’s eight tracks feel utterly complete in its individual prowess. Each sees a band trying to push the boundaries of their musicianship, with multi-sections, without forgetting to make each of those parts still memorable.

The riffs by vocalist-guitarist James Hetfield and guitar player Kirk Hammett are magnificent; massive and memorable without sounding sludgy, and the solos as melodically dramatic as the vocals.

The bass — performed by legendary first bassist Cliff Burton, who died tragically in a bus accident during the album’s touring cycle — may not be audible enough as was expected in Metallica’s early recordings, but when they take center stage, as they do in “Orion,” they growl with melancholy menace — complex without being needlessly so.

Then there are the drums. Band co-founder and co-leader Lars Ulrich’s lack of skills has become a legend in itself that it is tempting to jump on the bandwagon and say he sucks.

But even if the drums here were compiled, cut and pasted, from many different takes, they are completely in-sync with every other instrument; accenting each riff and vocal lines, and providing plenty of dynamics to songs that require plenty of it. The way that Ulrich changes the accent with his snares on the title track’s outro is deceptively simple, but pushes the already fiery section into an even more dramatic crescendo.

The reissue presents these songs in remastered form, and it brings the original very off-it’s-time production (thin, effected plenty) into the now — pushing the low-end into the forefront and giving these songs some new perspective.

It is great to hear more of the separation between the instruments, especially the guitars. To note, unsurprisingly, is Hetfield’s machine-like rhythm guitar playing, which truly goes in tandem with the drums as holding the underlying dynamics of all the songs.

Of course, fans that grew up with the original will likely prefer the nostalgic raunchiness of the album they first heard, but the remaster does a great job in making it more than a compulsory one-time listen.

There are also some cool archival interviews, where the band — still in their early-20s — crackle answers with radio stations and old “rawk” magazines such as Sounds and Metal Forces. These low-fidelity treasures bring the album’s magic to a more humane level, reminding listeners of the context-of-time and how almost magical it is that these guys who were basically kids, managed to create such a monster of a record.

What is better is hearing how the songs take shape. The many pre-production recordings taken during rehearsals here is delightful in presenting the many forms the songs had to go through before ending up the way they did.

It is truly exciting as a fan to listen to the band converse in their regular-dude drawls on specific parts of the songs, teaching each other parts that now stand as some of the most famous riffs in rock history. That giddy delight comes even more alive as it is obvious just how still garage-y the band was at that point, with amateurish clicks and hums of the machine tape being audible here.

As the songs take shape, the collection becomes increasingly precious and romantic, and you can hear the growing confidence of a band that somehow knows (but doesn’t really know) that they’re capturing a special moment in their history.

While the oft-praised quality of the eight songs itself does not require any more praise, it would be remiss to not consider the prowess of the pounding “Battery,” the sorrowful theatricality of “(Welcome Home) Sanitarium,” the majesty of “Orion,” the epic ride that is the title track or the lurching tragedy of “Disposable Heroes.”

There’s something overwhelmingly efficient about these songs, no matter how long some of them are. How metal was able to churn out something that sounded as angry yet sad as Master of Puppets does is a mystery. Metallica’s gone through many permutations and done some good work after this, but nothing topped the perfection that was Master. Obey it.

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