Last night that buzz grew to a deafening roar at Raymond James Stadium, as the boys from Metallica were back in town. They perform tomorrow night as well, but Tampa Bay Music News were only given access to the opening night for review. The round stage was placed at center field covering the Buccaneers logo, and eight individual monitor towers and stages jutted out from the main stage like some ominous abstract octopus. This tour is called M72 World Tour, and began in Amsterdam in 2023 and will forge on until June of next year. The M72 that Tampa got was a no-repeat, meaning totally different song sets each night, and was an in the round extravaganza.
The crowd was a diverse range in age, with parents bringing their little metal head kids, to fans in their 60’s with shoulder length gray skullets. For the record, a skullet is a mullet but on a bald dude, and there were plenty of them. However varied in age and hair styles there were, I’d venture to guess that 99.9% of the attendees were wearing black tee shirts. And judging by the continuous throngs of devotees mashed against the merch booths, they intended to purchase even more.
Before Metallica stormed the stage, Ice Nine Kills set the tone with their horror-themed metal theatrics, even in searing Florida heat and blinding sunlight. Frontman Spencer Charnas led the chills-and-thrills set with a haunting rendition of “The Shower Scene”, drenched in stage blood and fog. Their energy built the perfect bridge into the evening’s heavier offerings. Although probably a show-stealer in their own right, the crowd seemed more energized for the next performers, Limp Bizkit and Metallica.
Love them or hate them, I happen to be a not so closeted fan myself, Limp Bizkit always delivers. As banal and often sexist many of the lyrics are, the band backing singer/rapper Fred Durst hits hard enough to make you forget that aspect. Unleashing their nu-metal nostalgia with tracks like “Rollin’”,“Nookie” (see comment above) and my personal theme song “Break Stuff”, the crowd never seems to stand still when Bizkit is on stage. Unless your hard core Metallica fans, who seemed hard pressed not to show the Bizkit some love. The make-up costume wearing chameleon on guitar, Wes Borland, is a forever underrated riff lord. I wonder some times if he hides behind those disguises out of embarrassment for what his front man might do next to him on stage, or if his anonymity is due to the fact that he’s so talented it scares even himself. Nevertheless, as hot as it was, he was clad in what some would call an alien, graffiti rooster.
Now it may sound like I’m Durst bashing, but let’s face it, Limp Bizkit wouldn’t exist without the star quality, tongue-in-cheek swagger of Fred and his ability to control a large mass with an aggressive flick of the mic wielding wrist. Way back in the day he donned a backwards red baseball cap (he made them douchey long before you know who) he now looks like a post apocalyptic gray bearded Bob Ross, clad in what seemed to be thrift store pajamas. His banter in between songs varied from positive affirmations to individual section insults, all in jest (hopefully). Locking in with the stylistic shredder Borland and knob turner DJ Lethal, is Sam Rivers and John Otto, on bass and drums respectively to form one badass groovy rhythm section. That Limp Bizkit swing, with funky and uniquely heavy groove is still present, to stir the soul and bounce an entire arena. Especially on their George Micheal covers “Careless Whisper” and “Faith”. Not to be outdone by those ironic, if not somewhat genre conflicted numbers, the five funksters of metal closed their set with a audience participated sing-along, a cover of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”.
I’m unsure if the murmur amongst the congregation was from Limp Bizkit’s dope performance (I can still say dope, right?) or the year’s long anticipation for the heavy metal quartet of the ages (I won’t go into their lineage), Metallica. I’d like to believe it was both of those things, but hard-core Metallica fans would never admit to truly liking Limp Bizkit, much less head banging to them. The sound system blared rock favorites as the black clad counsel buzzed to the bathrooms, merch booths and bars. AC/DC’s “It’s a long way to the top” ended and the spaghetti western standard “The Ecstasy of Gold”, by Ennio Morricone began, stirring the pot a bit. The 30 foot monitors played the graveyard scene from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, where Tuco (Eli Wallach) runs around looking for an unmarked grave. The sun had set and the sky had finally darkened when the stadium house lights did the same and the crowd erupted as the four members strolled onto stage.
Opening the two night event with the lesser known “Creeping Death” was my clue to what the rest of the evenings songs would be. Having cheated a bit, I looked up what setlist they preformed at a previous two night, no repeat offering, the Chicago show to be exact. To be honest I was a little deflated as the songs they played on the second night were more of my particular favorites. Regardless, “Harvester of Sorrow”, “King Nothing”, “Nothing Else Matters” and “Fuel” made me forget that they still have a huge catalog to choose from. Technical difficulties stole the show for a few moments, and there was a four or five song bunch, a third of the way through, that literally sounded like all the same song. But once again, the band and production team were forgiven when the attendees took into account the difficulties it takes in moving band setup to different parts of the giant circular stage, Lars Ulrich’s massive drum kit included. Ulrich, with mouth agape, thinning hair and deservedly drenched in sweat, is still one helluva drummer. Like Bizkit’s Durst, Ulrich has been known to be somewhat of a self-entitled trouble maker (Google Napster feud), but also like Freddy, he’s still one of the best at what he does.
Black fingernail polished digits on guitar virtuoso Kirk Hammett blazed up and down the neck of his many expensive Gibsons, while his shoulder length gray coif blew in the night breeze. Hammett will be holding court at the Seminole Hard Rock Casino Saturday (this evening) for a Metallica Takeover. He’ll join Gibson’s Mark Agnesi to discuss Hammett’s upcoming coffee table book that showcases the previously mentioned iconic guitars that Kirk has in his collection. Which is why the show and book are titled, Kirk Hammett: The Collection, and should be an impressive assemblage of instruments he’s played in his 40 plus years with Metallica. Newest member Robert Trujillo, he picked up bass duties in 2003, prowled around the stage with long braids and heavy fingers. As mentioned, I won’t go into band lineage here, but know that they went through bassists like Spinal Tap went through drummers. Lead vocalist, ne growler, James Hetfield, donned in all black attire of course, kept the audience enthralled during the lull in activity, and held his own on rhythm guitar and an occasional lead. I’d venture to guess that his pick hand speed could give Hammett’s fret finger agility a run for its money.
The once long blonde headed Hetfield now keeps his gray hair and beard close cropped, but still somehow resembles the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz. Google that as well, if you need a chuckle. Resemblance aside, he shows no sign of cowardice while slumped over his many signature ESP Snakebytes, with legs spread in signature stance. Sincerely thanking the fans, military members and a very lucky make a wish young lad, he reminded us that we all came to rock and broke into “Sad But True”. Followed by “Blackened”, “Fuel” and the decades old “Seek and Destroy”, he still maintains that gnarl while aptly delivering those massive chunks of rapidly picked bar cords. Disappointed in this evenings song list as I may have been, I think one concert with 18 hits would have been preferred, the show closer for Friday’s performance made up for any discouragement (a tad anyway). They dutifully wrapped up the night with band standard and title track of arguably their most revered album, “Master of Puppets”. I won’t be attending Sunday’s show sadly, but know that the setlist is what most Metallica admirers would consider the stronger of the two presentations. Whether one show in a city, or two, this band that has been touring for closing in on 50 years, fired on all cylinders. Multimillion dollar production and pyrotechnics, now part of their repertoire, not withstanding, these four guys are still at the core, a heavy metal garage band. And I’m glad I was here for it.
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