Where do I begin? Mike Root at Springfield College in Springfield Massachusetts, I suppose. He started this whole thing, truth be told. I remember walking across the hallway on the ground floor of Gulick Hall the first day of my freshman year and into the adjacent room. 127 I think it was, but I can’t be sure.

And there was Mike. Long (or longer) hair than any guy within a quarter mile and doing his best to pull off the late 80s Hetfield-esq goat-tee. (The one that the Edge would later rock to perfection on the album Pop). The din coming from Mike’s room made me smile immediately. Not because the sound was something I never really heard before but because anyone that played music this loud, especially this music, didn’t really give a shit what people thought. Plus he always smiled and giggled when he talked and it made people think he was crazy.

Walking into his room was like walking into a cave. Everything was black. The rug, the bed, the sheets, the curtains, the shade. The desk, the file cabinet, the coffee maker and, I would later find out, the coffee. Posters and magazine cut outs covered the walls. Bands with skinny white guys I had never heard of but pretended to were everywhere. A tiny tv; black and white in the corner looked lonely and out of place. And there were the axes. 4 in all. Lined up on stands against the wall.

It was like I walked backstage.  And there it was, the new and much more real world of heavy metal right in Mike’s 12 x 10 (prison) dorm room. Good bye spandex and hairspray; hello Metallica. Sensing that I liked what I heard, Mike played me the b-side of One: The Prince. Still to this day, a “relatively” unknown Metallica song. I remember being amazed that anyone could play guitar that fast. I was hooked on James, and Kurt. And sometimes, at the very beginning, Lars.

Don’t get me wrong, I was metal in high school.

Like everyone else that graduated skinny and middle of their class in white suburbia, I was into the usual suspects: The Crue, Poison, Ratt, Dokken, Cinderella and when I really wanted to dial it up, I threw on Winger. Specifically their cover of Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze. Looking back on that short episode in my life, the damage done to the real Jimi Hendrix part of my brain, could have been irreversible if it wasn’t for Metallica.

So thanks to Mike Root, I began listening to them. A lot. I have hours and hours of live shows. All their released stuff. I was never really fanatical, I just had a very special place in my conscience for this band because they were true musicians and they played fast as hell. Many tried to break in and take their place, but few even come close to the sheer volume that was blasted through my ear holes over the years. Countless nights through college and beyond were traded for listening to this band. Untold volumes of my life–lost because of 3 to 4 skinny white guys from San Francisco.*

Indeed, whole live tours I’ve listened to over the years. But the funny and somewhat ironic thing is I’ve never seen them live before.

____________________

Skip ahead 20 years to tonight.

It was me, Jace, Naylor, Mendoza and B Layne. We started out at Naylor’s house, got primed up there and headed to the the less-than fabulous Forum.

Mostly dressed in black and with no tickets, I didn’t want to get too excited as Jace and I had missed an opportunity earlier in the year the last time the boys were in town. But we all had high hopes this time around and it was tough not to get swept up in the fervor. We were pumped! And I personally, felt like breaking something. Which is why I continually punch Jace throughout the evening.

Once we arrived, and parked in the super-secret spot, we waited around the ticket office for a while until Mike got the bite he was looking for. Turned out to be Trujillo’s brother and we were both in for under face value! The first of many “Yeah Yeahs” were screamed across the inside of the Forum. We all got tickets and we all got in. Blame it on the unseasonable cold, but fate was with us. I was looking forward to losing my voice.

Once inside, Mike and I needed to get Jace and Bryan down to our seats. This proved a bit more difficult than previously thought because, in that moment, Jace forgot everything he ever learned about outwitting an usher. Thankfully, he remember quickly and didn’t make the same mistake one section over. Pretty soon we were all together with great seat 20 feet from the stage.

I tried a few head bangs and everything seemed ready to go.

We were all freshly hydrated and in a raucous mood. The hilarity hit full tilt when Naylor got his foot caught in a flipped up seat and couldn’t get it out for about a minute.

It was funny to everyone in the place except Mike, who we found out later was now bleeding and in excruciating pain. He pulled through though, because that’s what you do at a Metallica show.

Our seats were great. Eye-level with the band and up from the floor and all that craziness. Maybe a few years ago, but now I either want to be really close (read: back stage) or comfortable. Mosh pits came and went in my life rather quickly. That’s a different story.

Tonight the stage was “in the round” which I didn’t mind so much. It’s the circular stage where James, Kurt and Robert all rotate around giving everyone a good seat…or at least, that’s the theory.

I was next to Jace and, having the new album, were beside ourselves when the they took the stage a few chords into That Was Just Your Life.

Epic.

Truly a great show!

And there were explosions! What more could you ask for?

I can honestly say that I enjoyed every second of this night!

Setlist:
That Was Just Your Life
The End Of The Line
The Four Horsemen
Ride The Lightning
One
Broken, Beat And Scarred

Cyanide
Sad But True
Wherever I May Roam

(more explosions!!)

All Nightmare Long
The Day That Never Comes
Master Of Puppets
Fight Fire With Fire
Nothing Else Matters

Enter Sandman
- – - – - – - -
Breadfan
Motorbreath

“MetaliBalls”
Seek and Destroy

Extended goodnight.

*5 to 6 white guys from San Francisco called the Grateful Dead would enter a few years later to round off the rough edges and ultimately expand the frontiers of my musical ecosystem. Thus enabling me to always and confidently answer the eternal first-date/frat party question of “what kind of music do you like?” by the truthful reply of, “I like it all…from Metallica to the Grateful Dead.”