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A unique double-header even in the storied history of thrash trailblazers, Metallica: a live-to-cinemas feed of their two Arlington, Texas shows 48 hours apart, featuring two entirely different sets. The idea of beaming gigs to remote venues is not new of course, and likely to become more of a trend.
However, this was my first experience of the format and the scale of Metallica’s operation was impressive. Gigs were broadcast to 2,500 cinemas across 75 nations. Given the time delay so that this could be shown at a civilised hour in the UK, this was not technically ‘live’, but let’s set such pedantry aside!
When the ‘tallica team dreamed up this plan in their luxury, sun-kissed California base, I don’t know if they thought through how it might translate to a small Cineworld screen in a bland retail park on the edge of suburban Hemel Hempstead… This is where I found myself for the Saturday afternoon showing of the 1st gig. The place was about a third full. Disappointing.
In the wings of the stage before the off, Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield did a piece to camera extolling us to get on our feet, shake our tousled manes and generally go crazy. James repeated the message a couple of times during the show. I looked around my fleapit of choice and noted some gentle tapping of feet, nodding of heads and polite chat. One bloke on my row was the exception, flaying himself about during some of the classic cuts; and a woman at the edge of the theatre stood up for the whole gig, determined to enjoy the show in the traditional manner.
All that said, the gig was top class. The filming was a mixture of wide-screen and up-close, with great angles and on-the-money shots for the instrumental breaks. Spider cams constantly zipped and swooped across the huge arena.
The sound was also good. My local flicks had a decent system, which is surely the absolute basic requirement for this type of event.
When bands promise entirely different sets for consecutive gigs, the risk is that both nights feel watered down. I can honestly say that was not the case here. Metallica have a deep body of work and opening up with the monumental ‘Creeping Death’ was thrilling, brought home by a thundering powerchord frenzy. The next two tracks also harked back to earlier days with a tough sounding ‘Harvester of Sorrow’ and the quite brilliant ‘Leper Messiah’. The latter inspired the guy at the end of my row to give his air guitar a thorough workout without actually leaving his seat.
Metallica’s stage for this tour is a sort of ring-donut in the round, with a pit in the middle rammed with metalheads and the rest of the crowd on the floor and in the cliff-like seating. The stage provided a huge circular runway that the overhead cameras showed to full effect. At times, Lars looked very isolated behind his on-brand M72-yellow kit as James, Robert Trujillo and Kirk Hammett hared around the platform. Visually, the best moments were when the four collected around Lars to hammer out extended plays such as on the stunning ‘Orion’ and later, ‘The Day That Never Comes’.
Naturally, it was hard to feel the atmosphere in the AT&T at this distance. Nothing can replicate that. Maybe the closest is the fanzone events that we see for big sporting events. But we certainly felt the almighty roars for band introductions and a few of James’ raps. And for singalong moments on ‘Nothing Else Matters’ and ‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ which were glorious.
This unedited film captured a few entertaining moments that might not have made it to a polished DVD package. At one point Robert jumped into the pit, looking demonic with jet-black hair plastered across his face, wielding his bass like an axe. He was stood next to a terrified toddler wearing Metallica-emblazoned ear defenders whilst his Dad took phone pics of the traumatic moments. Live in the raw!
New material fared well, despite some lukewarm reviews of ’72 Seasons’. Notably, the powerful ‘Lux Æterna’ and an epic ‘Too Far Gone’. The best moments were probably ‘Sad But True’, with the crowd again in full effect, ‘Seek and Destroy’ with the crunching riff that first brought the band to my eager ears as a lad, and the almighty ‘Masters of Puppets’.
That brought the show to an end. As we disparate gaggle of cinema-goers departed the screen, one of them said to the steward, ‘Sick, man! Absolutely amazing! See you Monday’. The lack of atmosphere, attendees and animation didn’t stop him enjoying the show. The same went for me.
For the Monday gig, I tried a different approach – into London for an evening showing at the sumptuous Kings Cross Everyman. On this occasion I went in later so that I could avoid the overlong crowd-view shots that preceding Saturday’s event and I arrived as ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)’ blasted around the PA inside the home of the Dallas Cowboys.
The cinema was smaller than Hemel, and though there were still only 8 or 10 punters inside, the room had a better, relaxed atmosphere. Comfy chairs with big arm rests and beer holders helped. As did sitting next to a Spaniard who was a proper Metallica fan. We shared a few beers, a few band reminiscences and a few holler-alongs at various points. It made the cinematic gig experience much more lively.
‘Whiplash’ kicked proceedings off on the big screen. One of the original thrash anthems, it is wearing well. The next two were stone-cold classics: ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ into ‘Ride The Lightning’. Lars pummelling away at the drums with mania, pulling faces that gave a passing resemblance to Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lechter. And James with commanding, potent vocals as earth-shaking as ever, looking more like the lion out of The Wizard of Oz with every passing day. Kirk’s playing on ‘For Whom…’ spiralled and hit the dramatic sweet spots. He had wisely ditched the paint spattered decorating trousers from Saturday in favour of a pair of plain black strides. And Robert. A bass monster. I grinned every time he filled the screen.
Later, ‘Fade To Black’ and then ‘Call of Ktulu’ confirmed that if you put me up against the wall, I’d have to pick ‘Ride…’ as my favourite Metallica album. Such colossal yet precisely constructed songs and unbelievable playing, creating that enduring band sound.
If Saturday’s set was consistently high quality, tonight’s was a series of even loftier oxygen-sapping peaks, but with a couple of minor troughs too. ‘Dirty Window’ from ‘St Anger’ still felt disjointed. At least the drums sounded better live than on the album that is probably their only turkey; and ‘You Must Burn!’ from the new album, which for me was a fraction lumpen and grinding. However at the song’s conclusion there was an awkward look from James. He grinned and said that he’d missed out a section. ‘Whoops! We’ll play it next time!’ But Lars was chuckling from underneath his hi-hat and with Robert and Kirk they persuaded James to complete the missing part. A nice moment of levity.
‘No Leaf Clover’ from the album with the San Francisco Symphony was perhaps a brave choice, ushered in by a synth/string loop and delivered with less intensity than other tracks on view, but they pulled it off.
The other highpoints were predictable but utterly compelling. ‘Wherever I May Roam‘ saw Robert being pushed around the crowd on a giant disc by roadies as he hunkered down on the rhythm. ‘Moth Into The Flame’ kept up the brutal pace and, though it was hard to judge the atmosphere in the cavernous AT&T stadium, I saw a few glimpses of mosh pit mayhem during this track (and earlier on the set opener, ‘Whiplash’).
In fact the camera work seemed to be more adventurous than on Saturday. The lunging spider cams and wide stadium shots were used fractionally less and instead there were better close-ups and more interesting angles across the runway with, for instance Lars at his kit in the foreground and a pirouetting Kirk on the other side of the donut.
‘Battery’ was pulverising in its rawness and speed-riffing. Actual headbanging broke out in the cinema. And then into a rollicking ‘Whiskey In the Jar’ accompanied by giant inflatable M72-branded balls which had been set free from the rafters, though causing less mayhem on the stage than on Saturday.
Quite the finale was to come. ‘One’, complete with fireworks and dramatic lighting spilling into a no-frills, stripped back ‘Enter Sandman’ with all the lusty crowd singalongs you would expect. As on Saturday, there were no encores in the 2 hour-plus show and the band spent a good while thanking fans before disappearing to the sounds of their own version of ‘Ecstasy of Gold’.
I turned to my neighbour (I’m sure he said his name was Oreo, but that can’t be right can it?), shook his hand and we both said how sharing some beers and chat had added to the overall experience.
This livestream was never going to deliver on the atmosphere of an in-person gig, particularly as attendances were low at the cinemas I went to. But Metallica are still the real deal on stage and this brace of shows on the big screen with a great sound system was superb. I’d happily do something similar again.
Review and photos by Dave Atkinson
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