You may wanna grab a beverage, we’re gonna be here a while…
For those of you that follow me on Twitter, you know that I’ve been blathering on and on about my “Weekend with Metallica”. Well, it happened this past weekend in scenic Newark, NJ and now is as good a time as any to fill you in on the details.
Some background, first. I’ve been a fan of Metallica since 1984, when I traded Bob Peluso a Dwight Gooden rookie card for his Ride The Lightning cassette. I remember the first time I listened to Fight Fire With Fire. It actually scared me a little bit, but I was hooked. I defended the band when people bitched that the drums sounded funny on …and Justice For All (they did, but the songs were great), when they shortened the song lengths on the Black Album (yes, but the songs were still great), and I defended them when they cut their hair during the Load era (so what, at least the songs were…umm…wait a sec..). I even went and saw Some Kind Of Monster in the theater.
Anyway, you get the idea. I’ve literally been a card-carrying member of the Metallica fan club for over 10 years. I’ve never joined a fan club for any band, ever (not even The Kiss Army, and if you know how big of a Kiss fan I was at one point, this will mean something to you) but the Metallica Club seemed worth it. For your $50 bucks a year, you get a T-shirt, a quarterly (ish) magazine called So What!, and best of all you get the opportunity to get tickets to shows early. Not only do you get early shot at tix, but I’ve been able to get into special events such as when they played the Roseland Ballroom for an MTV special during the press tour for Garage, Inc. I was also interviewed for the MTV Icon special due to my membership and close proximity to New York. Actually, I sort of made a mockery of that interview, and not surprisingly the footage wasn’t used. I wonder what ever became of it? Ah, well…a story for another day.
The latest fan club perk was an invite to the Meet and Greet prior to the concert on 1/31/09, at the new Prudential Center in Newark. Obviously I was excited. I’ve met plenty of musicians in my time; hell, I met Ace F’n Frehley twice, for the love of Lemmy. But this was gonna be different. This is Metallica, motherfugger! All I wanted to do was not make an ass of myself, which I thought was a pretty attainable goal.
I had no expectations heading into this whole deal, since the instructions read:
“Not all band members can come to all the meet and greets all the
time. There is no guarantee that you will meet any of the band members.
Sorry.”
That’s not very encouraging, is it? Or maybe it’s just a way of managing expectations? Either way, I went in with the thought that I’d be satisfied with whatever happened.
Here’s how it worked: I had to be at the venue by 5pm, four hours before Metallica would hit the stage. I met the representative near the will-call booth, and my name was ticked off of a list. This is when I got the first indication that this would be pretty cool. There were only 18 people attending the Meet and Greet. I was afraid it would be a room chock-full of sweaty Metallica fans throwing elbows for the chance to touch James’ beard. Not so. This was looking promising.
Around 5:30, we were led into the bowels of the arena. The view looked something like this:
Hey, cool! A giant "Live Shit" box set!
We continued down a few more concrete hallways (I couldn’t resist a hearty, “Hello Cleveland!” which actually got a few chuckles), until we reached the lovely place where the Meet n Greet would be held. Any visions of a catered, soft couch-filled room were quickly dashed. Instead, we got this:
We were actually told to line up, backs against the wall. I think he was kidding.
No sweat, I can stand in a cold hallway for a few hours to meet me some Metallica. And basically, that’s exactly how it went. First, we were given some ground rules, but I won’t bore you with the details. Essentially, they were: Don’t Be A Dick.
Not long after our briefing, our first Meeter and Greeter came out: Robert Trujillo, the man on the bass. Mind you, I have had over a week to think of what I’m going to say to these guys. So when Rob gets to me, what do I say?
“Hey man, nice to meet you.”
That’s it.
I didn’t even have anything to get signed. I’ve always said “I’m not an autograph kind of guy. I know I met them. Why do I need a signature?” Suddenly the ignorance of this statement smacked me square in my enormous nose. “You may never get this opportunity again, fucktard. Have. Them. Sign. Something.”
But what? I was purposely travelling light, since I didn’t want to be toting a bunch of crap around for 8+ hours that day. Then it hit me: I have my Metallica Club membership card in my wallet. I flipped it over. It’s blank on the back…perfect! Rob quickly signed it, and then this happened:
One cool, one tool.
I thanked Mr. Trujillo, and he went on his way. When I was handed back my camera, I looked at the picture. Oh, Christ. I wanted to ask him to come back so I could try to look less like the kid that says “Don’t throw me away” in the ARC commercial, but it was not to be.
Ok, I sort of borked the first one, but hopefully there’d be three more chances to get it right. While I was still wallowing in my eggheaded-ness, who should walk in but Mr. James Hetfield.
Oh. Shit.
There is a very short list of people on this planet who I could possibly be intimidated by, and Hetfield is on that list. I’m that big of a fan. But, ya know what? I’m gonna nail this one. I’m near the end of the line, and I’ve got about 16 Meetings n Greetings to get my act together.
Hey, what’s he doing?
Oh, he’s gonna start down this end. Wonderful.
I’m so fucked.
He quickly makes his way to me, and I hand him my membership card. Before I can say anything, he turns it over and says, “Ooh, the Megadeth fan club.”
Nobody laughs.
His assistant nervously looks on as James signs my card and hands it back to me. James says, “Wow, I’m not doing so well with the jokes today.” The assistant looks more nervous. My own comedy instincts take over, and I say, in my best suck-up voice, “No, Mr. Hetfield, sir. Joke. Very funny. Yes!”
It hangs there for a second, I’m pretty sure the assistant starts to sweat a little, and then James lets out a hearty laugh. Seeing that it’s ok, everyone else starts to laugh. The assistant snaps this picture, and James shakes my hand and gets on with his business.
Seriously, we were laughing. No drugs involved.
Ok, I can do this! I still look sort of like a jack-o-lantern in a vest, and I didnt get to ask James the question I had in mind, but at least we had a laugh.
Before I could really think too much, Kirk was upon me. This time I was ready, I got in my question about adding The Judas Kiss and My Apocalypse into the set, he answered that they were rehearsing them, and hoped to add them soon. We took a pic, shook hands, and he told me to enjoy the show.
I should've made a "metal face".
Hey, this isn’t so bad! If Metallica only had 9 members like Slipknot, I may be able to not sound like a bumbling fool by the time the last few guys came out.
Well, three down, Lars to go. Something told me that we’d be waiting a while, based on what I know about our Danish friend. Especially since I heard the band rep saying that Lars had to finish filming his part for a Motorhead documentary. The dude’s a pretty serious Motorhead fan, and also a pretty serious talker. This could take a while.
It really didn’t. About 10 minutes later, Mr. Ulrich sauntered (and I do mean sauntered) in to the hallway. He made a beeline to our end of the line and proudly proclaimed, “I’ll bet nobody has started down your end!”
“Actually, James did.” I answered.
Lars looked crestfallen. “Well, fuck that. I’m going back to the other end then.”
And he did.
We got a good laugh out of it, and I waited for him to make his way down to me. Contrary to everything you may have heard or read about Lars Ulrich, let me tell you that he was absolutely charming, polite, and very cool. Watching him interact with a 7 year old fan that brought his snare drum head to be signed was priceless. I will continue to defend this man against all comers.
We had a quick conversation about adding the new songs as well. His answer? “Ask the singer! I’d play Judas tonight if it were up to me.” He also let it slip that they’d be back in the area in November to play Madison Square Garden. I said I’d see him then, and off he went.
Rock stars wear scarves indoors.
And then it was over. We thanked the band representatives and were led out to the arena floor and I went to find my seat. The concert that night was great, but that’s sort of a given. I’ve now seen Metallica 14 times in my life, and they’ve never disappointed. Of the three shows I saw in the last two weeks, the show on the 31st had my favorite setlist, and the most energy. I may have been a bit biased, since I was practially walking on air at that point, but there ya go.
I’d like to thank the Metallica Club, and more importantly, Metallica, for making this happen. When a band has been around and achieved the kind of success that they have, they certainly don’t have to continue to do things like this. The fact that they do, and they were four genuine human beings means that I’ll continue to proudly fly the Metallica flag.
Oh yeah, they also still fucking rock harder than just about anyone else.
My swag. The pic links my gallery of photos from that day.
Thanks for indulging me. Rock on.
