Persevering the crash-a-minute online sale, I managed to bag some up in the heavens at the O2. Was I pissed about the nose-bleeding location? No, because I only paid £5 for each.
The evening is called a ‘party’, celebrating the very recent release of ‘Death Magnetic’ (which is surprisingly cracking, for those who haven’t heard it). Tickets are super-cheap, proceeds are naturally donated to charity, and only the person actually buying can get in – show your ID and credit card at the venue – so touts can't get their filthy, stinking hands on 
it. So an overwhelmingly positive atmosphere filled the cavern that is the O2, and things got stratospheric as the house lights shut off with the sound of a heart-beat pulsing from the PAs.
This is new album opener That Was Just Your Life, the playback intro giving way to loud, chugging guitars. Metallica have entered the in-the-round stage and are rocking the sheer fuck out. End of the Line swiftly follows, the end section of which evokes massive shouting in the crowd of ‘The slave becomes the master!’ and lots and lots of headbanging. The Thing That Should Not Be makes a welcome showing, already marking tonight’s setlist as something quite unique. This is furthered by Of Wolf and Man, Until It Sleeps, Wherever I May Roam (fuck yes), and Jump In The Fire, a ‘Kill ‘Em All’ favourite. Having said this, Frantic of their forever baited ‘
One is, as expected, awesome live. Lars Ulrich’s jackhammer fills toward the end are worthy of being one of metal’s finest moments. Their sudden crash into Master of Puppets is superb: that first guitar chord resounds akin to a thunderclap, greeted by twenty two-thousand cheers. Possibly the best couple of minutes of the night are during the song’s instrumental part: the whole audience put on their best head voices and whine along with Hammett’s famous guitar line. Insanely cool, and also fucking hilarious.
Amid the killing tempos and huge solos, the band themselves are having a fantastic time. They look as into their music and playing as they’ve always been to my eyes, which is a lot to say for the members are all in their forties – minus most recent recruit Robert Trujillo, who jumps about the place with a bass strung so low it must be hitting him in the balls every time he moves. Seriously. Their banter is great, too – Hetfield is a solid and talkative frontman, letting the crowd know exactly how he feels; whether that be telling people to put their camera phones away and just enjoy the freaking moment itself – amen – or getting the house lights turned on for their encore of Queen’s Stone Cold Crazy. The gig’s finished in tune to Seek and Destroy (check out that riff, damn!) and mass moshing erupts in the stalls as black beach balls marked with Metallica’s name fall from the rafters, in some kind of awesome fucked-up shindig.
Sadly, Sad But True, Nothing Else Matters and Enter Sandman do not get played. But it was a fan’s gig, so that can be forgiven. The main feeling I got from tonight was we were all there to have pure fun, along with Metallica themselves. They’re touring here in February: I think I may have to go.
Overall – 8 / 10
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