Filed under: Music
Regular readers will recall that DM the legitimate spouse, of my beloved office spouse, was my Guns ‘n Roses cohort.Imagine my joy when he invited me to Metallica, one of the only, one the greatest bands, DM has not yet seen in live action.Office spouse says that “angry” music like Metallica and Rage Against the Machine etc. makes her feel “agitated”…kinda stressed.I suppose I can understand that.After all, angry music sometimes works to power me up Mission Peak around the Lake Run with B is not available to keep me company.
DM is teased by office spouse as “mild –mannered” (a term that always brings to mind Clark Kent).But he says that after a big, screaming, loud and nihilistic show, he feels almost sort of cleansed.James Hetfield pretty much put it that way himself when he ended the encores by whipping up the pit-to-rafters jam packed stadium into a participatory frenzy:
“You don’t have to take any of this energy home, leave it all here-that’s what we’re all here for tonight isn’t it!?”Then he prompted everyone on how to scream the three word chorus to SEEK AND DESTROY.
Cheery pre-Christmas outing!
The summary:
DM and my office spouse have the 2 cutest kids ever.Not that I am biased or anything.Little D and I have talked about Star Wars for ages, and this weekend he was discovering Bakugan.I took the family for a dinner at yummy Mint Leaf in Alameda (lemongrass chicken & garlic noodles, coconut rice claypot… mmmm) & then off to the show.Rain check to office spouse for a boozy girls’ night out sometime when she isn’t child caring.
Dinner with little ones ran late and we missed opening band #1 Sword.We took a long hike in from the outer fringes of the lot and immediately into a wall of pot smoke.Waited outside with the sold out crowd to be let slowly into the building, as a little army of Coors Light cans and bottles accumulated beside the line.
We caught the last part of Lamb of God, who were frankly totally unintelligible.But they looked pretty freaking awesome, wailing away like construction workers on their instruments, 4 long-haired, sweat-flying, screaming dudes.What they were screaming was beyond me, but the crowd was appreciative and they looked killer.
As DM and I sought our seats, more smoke of all kinds, and I feared we’d both have to drive home to our respective honeys with a contact high.DM keeps walking down, down, down the winding stairs. Much to my disbelief.I’ve been on a grad school budget most of my life, and always have nosebleed section tickets.Despite coming to shows in Oakland since I was 16, I have never sat this far front.
We are a mere 6 rows back from the mosh pit, where pasty men are gleefully throwing themselves at one another, elbows out, teeth bared.Close enough to see the action without being a part of the coronas of sweat emanating from stage and pit.Hats and clothes and beer cups and humans are flung about the pit, and our row chuckles at the side show.DM talks about a previous mosh pit experience which entailed total body muscle exertion merely to stand ones ground. “I think I was sore for like a week after that show.”
At long last…Metallica!Metallica whose magazine photos were up in my Cupertino high school bedroom.Metallica, whose Master of Puppets T-shirt was one of my favorite tops.Just as loud or louder than any other metal band, but with the musical, lyrical, and topical skills to outlast them all.This is after all, the band that has performed with the SF symphony, Sinofonica, and Montreal Orchestra.I made P watch “Some Kind of Monster” with me last week, the Metallica documentary.It was a fascinating view of these Gods of Metal going through intensive group therapy, playing with their kids, stumbling through the creative process etc.And while it was not so cool to see them dressed like dorks loping around their ranches and studios (not the handsome, scary, muscled & black clad junkie hardasses of their youth), I had new respect for them as talented musicians and newly sober and creative adults.
We are close enough to see every facial expression on band members, and to feel the blasts of heat from the flaming pyrotechnics that stun us all as the opening to “One” (the only music video that has made me want to cry). The thousands of fans rock to all songs with glee, but we all go crazy when the first few chords of our faves are played like
“Master of Puppets” (of course), or “Enter Sandman”.
When Metallica does lasers and pyrotechnics, it’s not like other shows.The lasers here are pinpointed beams timed with music, the flames are dangerously hot and high.Gigantic coffin shapes (as on the cover of Death Magnetic) fixed with more light effects come swinging and rotating down from the edges of the huge stage.
I can’t help but ponder not only the incredibly agile control of the musical instruments, for which they are well nigh world famous, but also the fantastic quads of one Trujillo.He’s the newest member, with the long dark hair of a romance novel cover boy, and one hell of a bass player.One never actually sees his quads since he wears long shorts, but he spends the whole show bending over backwards, or squatting, or otherwise contorting so incredibly that I suspect he could kick my ass in yoga…all without missing a note.
At the end of the rowdy encores, the crowd roar echoes off the stadium walls and huge black beach ball orbs emblazoned with “Metallica” come pouring out of the rafters.People jabbing their devil horns and fists punch them around and the band kicks them off the stage, but soon fans are grabbing and hoarding the giant balls as souvenirs.
Suddenly, stage crew bolts acrossthewide stage, with….cream pies in hand??Before the crowd even registers what’s changed, drummer Lars Ulrich is tearing across stage and into the gray are between bouncers and crazed mosh pit.Within a minute, he’s caught, and finally walks onstage so utterly creamed with pie and shot with silly string that he looks like a snowman and I wonder if he can breathe.With glee, Hetfield says “we’ve all had birthdays on the road, but my friend Lars here gets out of it by having a December 26th birthday when we aren’t touring.”He then leads thousands of people in a raucous round of “Happy Birthday” to Lars, while Lars hugs his bandmates in great, big, cream smearing gestures.
We were close enough that I can’t quite hear anything right now…except through some fuzzy tunnel…That was AWESOME.
Eh….?? Are you talking to me? I can’t hear a goddamned thing!P had asked if I was bringing earplugs to the show, to which I scowled a serious “P-shaw!”I did notice them in the ears of many around us, including the teen boys in row 5.
DM drives as I phone P. “Better than Guns ‘N Roses?” he asks.
I pause.
“Yes.”I turn and tell DM P’s questions.
No pause.
“Yes!”
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