I'll admit, I think Metallica is the best band in the world. While purists and elitists and metal (Megadeth) fans will differ, my opinion will always remain unchanged. With over a 100 million albums sold worldwide, Metallica has become a household name when it comes to music. I went to Singapore with my cousin to see them perform live at the Changi Exhibition Centre on the 24th of August.
Though the gates of the venue didn't open until 4 pm, we got there sharply at 9:45 am. With a few scattered fans, we were one of the first ones to arrive. We were lucky actually, because if this was South America or something, there would have been tents pitched up to 3 miles from the venue, from 3 days before the concert. Anyways, after getting baked and roasted and fried in the scorching heat for 6 straight hours, with nothing to do except seeing white guys drinking beer and applying sun screen lotion and marvel at the stupidity of us not bringing even a bottle of water, the gates finally opened. And I ran, like I was in the Olympics, like I would find infinite fame and glory if I could be first, like reaching the end was my only goal in life…only to find another gate. A shutter, as we Bengalis say. Standing in another line, we saw the privileged few arriving in their BMWs and Audis and taxis and parking right beside the venue. No doubt they were having a Big Mac for lunch in their cars and laughing at us.
Finally, the shutters did open after our incessant banging and we were let in. After ticket checking where they made us wear a wrist-band, and another agonising hour in the next line, we entered the grounds. And I'm proud to say, I planted the Bangladeshi spirit (didn't have a flag, sorry) firmly in the front row, right beside the barricade. Then??? Metallica??? Naah. After opening acts of Sacrilege and the mighty Anvil, and a glimpse of James Hetfield in the VIP lounge like a mile away, then Metallica. In between, three hours of nonstop chattering (even amongst the songs) from the Tamil boy and girl next to me, getting sandwiched between leather clad machos, and the general inconveniences that come with attending a 'tallica concert.
Boy, did they perform! Thirty thousand people chanting to Ennio Morricone's Ecstasy of Gold, that's a feeling I'll never forget. As the surroundings plunged into total darkness for a moment, and the giant 2-storey screen showed Lars behind the drum kit, while the opening chords of Hit the Lights blared from the speakers (someone had literally 'hit the lights' by then), a huge surge went up in the crowd as everyone rushed to try and take the best spot in the house. Everyone headbanging, moshing, devil horns high up in the air, the whole crowd becoming another vocalist for the songs… People passing out or getting crushed by the crowd, security guys that looked like wrestlers pulling them out and taking them to safety at the other side of the fence, and Metallica doing what they do best… Talk about intense.
They raced through Master of Puppets, And Justice For All, Shortest Straw, and every depressed kid's anthem -- Fade To Black. Never mind the fact that all I had to eat that whole day was just a bag of Lays and drink a few cups of water handed out by security, that now I looked like I arrived straight from the Sahara, that every inch of my body ached worse than it would have if I had gotten beaten up, that dehydration was setting in and I could pass out any moment. Never mind any of that. This was Metallica. I sang along to Battery and screamed my lungs out with 'Die' in Creeping Death, like the thousands of times I did back home, but this time with James. I mean, this is the guy I wrote about in my O Level English exam. This was Kirk Hammet playing the beautiful solo of Fade To Black just 10 feet away from me. This was Lars Ulrich playing the infamous double bass in One, the lights switching on and off in perfect sync with the drums. This was Rob Trujillo playing the unforgettable bass-line of For Whom the Bell Tolls. And this was me, singing the chorus to Blackened with 30 thousand other metalheads. This was not fanboy-ism. This was eight years of anticipation and dreams all getting fulfilled. This was Metallica.