Metallica - An Experience Unlike Any

When I first learnt about the existence of rock as a genre in music - about a decade and a half ago - my thoughts veered towards pelting of stones and rocks at a stereo. And since such a vivid imagination presented itself in my idea-starved brain right at the onset, it became the curtain finale to my initiation to the genre - even before the curtains could actually rise. 


To be honest, I must actually say that I didn't really take the pain to learn and understand the theme when I was trying to decipher its literary implications. And I must add that this lack of interest and enthusiasm led me far far away from rock music. It was as though both of us existed in some parallel universe - walking alongside, but with a distinct lack of possibility of a confluence.  

College life, however changed a lot of things. What was once percieved as being completely black or white, began to be looked upon as being murky and gray. The entire lifestyle changed and this change of lifestyle brought about an actual introduction to the world of rock music. Where I was once staring blankly at people discussing rock bands, I began to come to know about the various bands that existed; though I didn't really bother to look up about them further. After all, I knew something now as opposed to nothing before, didn't I?


There's a very popular saying - or is that a movie - about never saying never. It's actually quite simple to unravel this piece of philosophy and I can say this with much more confidence than anyone else I know, because of the number of times I have said "Never will I do this" only to end up doing the same thing. A few years ago, if someone would have prognosticated and told me that I would be going to a rock concert, I would have laughed openly at the person. But after a couple of days of travelling hundreds of kilometres and post watching a rock concert - Metallica no less - I must say that I have come to perceive the "never say never" phrase in an altogether new light. 


I was introduced to Metallica about a couple of years earlier, by a friend who used to be a fellow writer on a sports site. The first song I downloaded and listened to made me want to vomit my guts. The music was slow and the singer had this thoaty voice that made me ask myself as to who termed this band a "Rock Band?" But hey, what did I know; so I shut up and downloaded a few more songs just for the heck of it. 


Two days later, thinking that I could get a better perspective about the band and the songs I started to listen again, beginning with the same slow track as Nothing Else Mattered except a determination to listen to what the band had produced, even if my second thoughts echoed my first on the band being a Thrash (er). I must admit that it was Sad but True that I had indeed made a mistake about my first impression about the band. The singer was awesome and so were the guitarists and the drummer. Life without Metallica soon started Fading to Black and made me wonder whether I had to get myself admitted into a Sanatarium for what seemed to be fast developing like an addiction. 


I became a Puppet and the band my Master. Head-banging became a common feature in my house and my dad started to wonder whether my mental faculties and Batteries had started to fail. In this context, I must mention that I had also started to listen to bands like Green Day and Linkin Park and getting myself further acquainted with the sub-class genres under the banner of rock. The more I listened, the more I liked and I realised that music, in its entirety, is something that draws and sucks you inside it, even before you can say, "Whoa!" Transcending boundaries, it makes you relish the thought of being a music lover. You don't need to be an expert on the subject, you just need to listen to it and you'll understand the passion that goes behind every song. 

Getting back to Metallica, after poring every bit of news I could accumulate about the band, I realised that they had never toured India. It was like The Day that Never Came and I began to wonder whether I would ever get to go to a Metallica concert, if at all they did decide to come to India. And just like that, even before the thought could fully dissipate from my mind, there came the news that the band would be making their debut tour to the country. After the Long Nightmare of wait - in my case, relatively short - the ticket bookings opened and I finally was the proud owner of a Metallica concerto ticket. 






But second thoughts about the travelling and the housing came Creeping like Death and threatened to Blacken the whole aura of attending the concert. But just as things felt like Cynaide torturing the mind, everything began to fall in place. Relatives came forth and tagging along became easier. The Tolling Bells of time started to roll and the moment was finally there. Rather I should say, I was where, where the moment was. People surrounded in black t-shirts, proclaiming their affinity to the band milled around while I tried soaking in the feel of actually witnessing a favourite, that wasn't so, just a few years ago...


Amidst rife speculations about the time limit and oppostion from family - far and wide - determination to make the most of the concert overwhelmed every other negativity. I was here and that was all mattered, everything else could be taken care of later. The first one hour was spent battling emotions of surrealism while the latter part was spent memorising every bit of the ambience around. 


The singers and the crowd were Fuelled alike; the energy vibes and the pumping enthusiasm all over were such, that they gave a new meaning to the word excitement. Hours spent standing, just to gain an entry were hazy and a distant memory; life was suspended for those two hours and everyone was on a high - as high as they could get, while being One with the Gods.


And then, just like every other good thing in life, the show came to an end. And just as high as the bubble blew, the more resounding its pop sounded. Where people had started to yell to enter the grounds, they went rowdy and ballistic while trying to get out. It came out as being exceedingly ironic - watches being consulted, fans talking about work pressure and office punctuality; life had finally intruded upon the dream.


Now, days after the concert, all that Remains is the Memory. As the song goes...Fortune, Fame, Mirror Vain, Gone Insane...but the Memory Remains...the only low point, that you cannot sing the Ra...Ra chorus single-handedly; you are definitely in want of a palpable crowd, who can change the feel of the lyrics just as it needs to be done.