Greetings all. Brian has honored me with opportunity to post to Confessions my experience with him at the Metallica concert. Noting that with great power comes great responsibility, I offer up my thoughts on the awesome concert we attended last night.
I got to knock one of those things off of the “Must Do Before I Die” list last night; I saw Metallica (and Godsmack) in concert. Not that I am a metalhead, nor do I own a Metallica album, but I enjoy the music, hence when Deiwert offered up the ticket several months ago I immediately took him up on it. Plus, I know that Brian is a HUGE Metallica fan, and I have fun going to events with people who the experience means so much to.
A quick note on Godsmack. Going in I really could have cared less if we got there after Godsmack came on, but we made it in time to catch 90% of their show (the other 10% we were in line for beer). I was pleasantly surprised by the band. While the guitarists are totally run of the mill, the drummer is anything but pedestrian. Very talented, high energy, interacted with the crowd, and built like he would blow over in a stiff wind, like all good metal drummers. He was on a rotating drum platform off center stage (the concert was in the round), with another set under a tarp symmetrically opposite him (we assumed it was Lars’ set). But no, the tarp came off and the lead singer hopped up and started hammering away, with surprising skill. For the next ten minutes they staged a sort of dueling sets session. Very entertaining. I wouldn’t ever pay to see Godsmack on purpose, but if they are opening for someone, check’em out, they are worth seeing.
In between shows the roadies tore apart the entire stage. As Brian remarked “when you’ve sold 90 million albums, you can afford an army of roadies”. During part of this time I stood in line for 20 minutes while I watched a woman pour beer like it was the first time she ever saw a tap in her life. It took approximately three minutes to pour someone one beer. Being hungry I desired food, but after watching the beer event I figured any request for hot food would result in an experience on the level of a modern marvel with this woman, I went for the giant gourmet cookie. So yes, I sat down at the set break at a Metallica concert with a beer and a giant cookie. No I did not get my ass kicked. Yes I should have. But it was a damn good cookie, and probably the only thing on the menu that is actually close to being worth what it cost ($2.75).
The lights finally dimmed, and on came Metallica. Wow. Speed, power, energy. All that. And loud. As my compatriot noted later, “if you want clarity, buy the CD.” It was hard at times to realize the guys are in their forties. The band has definitely changed over the years. Lars doesn’t look so much like a hard core rock’n’roller anymore, more like if a 40 something Anthony Hopkins took up drums. And apparently someone lit his seat on fire, because he was constantly getting out of it. And gone are the days of him wearing leather pants and nothing else. He was in a t-shirt, sweatshorts and tennis shoes. Like he was going to play bocce ball. Hetfield and Hammett are very much as you expect, angry for Hetfield and just happy to be playing guitar for Hammett. It was driven home again at the end of the concert why exactly Hammett never gets in front of a mike. You see, when God made some people, he took all of the talent available for that person and poured it into one skill, one ability. For Kirk, that’s guitar playing, where I consider him one of the ten best of all time. He can’t sing or say anything intelligent to save his life. At the end of the concert, each member took a turn at the mike addressing the crowd. Kirk’s words of wisdom? “You guys kick mother fucking ass!”. Stick to guitar Kirk, leave the talking to Lars and the singing to James. Hetfield seems more mature (apparently he’s out of rehab now, off the juice) and after getting hit in the head with something early on in the concert he stopped the concert. The old Hetfield probably would have jumped into crowd and pummeled the guy (if he could find him). Instead, he asked if people were here to enjoy the music, and when the crowd shamed the invisible assailant enough, he started the music back up. He still is an amazing performer, amazing energy and power to his voice. Not quite the pied piper that Bono was when I saw U2 (and thankfully, not quite the ticket price) but still was able to handle the crowd at his leisure.
Speaking of leisure, two idiots in front of us demonstrated why pot is still illegal. 30 minutes into the concert, one of them lit up a joint. Never mind that smoking ANYTHING in Conseco is prohibited, let alone the herbal jazz cigarette. Some blue shirts came down the aisle, stared at him, then went away. Dipshit didn’t get the hint. Then a Conseco usher came down about 30 minutes later and made him put it out. No arrest, no kicking him out. That was hint number 2. 10 minutes later dipshit’s friend numbnuts decides to light up a doobie twice the size of his friend’s joint. Conseco usher has had enough, and returns, this time with one of Indy’s finest. They call him down to the aisle. Numbnuts decides instead of dropping the joint at his seat to bring the evidence with him, cupped in his hand. He and the officer exchange a few words and the officer motions for him to walk up the stairs. Numbnuts (who is standing right next to Deiwert at this point) then tries to be sneaky and drop a lit joint in a dark room. The cop shows him the stairs, turns to the usher who has picked up the joint, and holds out a cup into which the usher drops the pot. The cop looks at me and Brian (who are laughing pretty hard by now) and just shakes his head. Anyone this dumb deserved to be arrested for something. Might as well be grass.
The band played quite a bit of St. Anger (the new album) which sounds a lot like old Metallica, fast, fast, and faster. They swayed back and forth after that between old stuff and middle era items. Later on the iconic members of the band hid below the stage while the new bassist performed a 6 minute solo. I feel sorry for the new guy, he spent an entire three hour concert playing bass while trying to take a dooker. Apparently bass sounds best when played constantly two feet below your sac while squating. What a ridiculous playing position. And while we were all impressed with his thumb slap technique at the start of his solo, most people had sat down by the end of it because all he did was thumb slap for 6 minutes. Wow, what a spectacular array of bass playing, Robert. Remember, you are the bassist for Metallica. You are metal’s equivalent of the last guy picked in the NFL draft. The band’s
producer did all the bass work for St. Anger, they nabbed you only so they could tour. You’ll never be as good as Cliff.
I enjoyed the voice-over of R. Lee Ermey getting shot by Private Pyle right before One, and they followed that up with Enter Sandman. Then on to the encores, where they went REALLY old school, Seek and Destroy. After that Lars promised they’d be back sooner than another 6 years, and we took off. Ears didn’t ring too badly, by morning they were fine. Deiwert picked up the coolest $38 T-shirt I’ve seen (for 38 bucks it better be!). A good show, if they come to your town and you like any of their music, it’s a decent ticket. And if you have a sac, get something besides a cookie to eat.
