Review: Metallica M72 Tour Show - Charlotte - May 31, 2025
- Carson Speight
- Jun 6
- 9 min read
On a sunny afternoon in the fall of 1997, I was walking down Champion Drive from my school parking lot to the stadium for cross country practice. I was just a skinny sophomore then, without a car and reliant on upperclassmen for any trip to the field. A senior, Tim Bilderback, hollered at me and said he could give me a ride. We jumped in his Ford Explorer and he cranked the ignition.
As soon as the car started, another explosion occurred, this one coming from the speakers. It was the loudest noise I'd ever heard in a car, piercing my ears and leaving me with no doubt Tim had found the max end of his volume dial. It was the sound of deep, heavy guitars and eardrum-popping drums. The opening chords crashed into a deeper, more visceral thumping, followed by an amplified shout of "Hey, Hey! I'm your life!" While I didn't know the owner of this sonorous soundbox, I sure as crap believed him. Yes, my life is yours. Take it, just don't let me suffer. The lyrics that followed were dominating, laden with metal angst. Raw power had been unleashed on me. It was a little scary, but it felt kinda good. The song was "Sad But True." The band was Metallica.
Over the years, I delved deep into Metallica's catalog while they became arguably the biggest band in the world. They were so big in fact, I wondered if I'd ever see them perform live, given they were playing in places like Krakow and Budapest much more than places like North Carolina. But this past Saturday, I finally got my chance. Metallica was in Charlotte on the final leg of their multi-year M72 Tour.
What made this show extra special was I got to go with my son, Hudson. I'd gotten him into the band over the years, gradually that is, because I just don't think 8-year-olds are mature enough to absorb the shock of screams and thrashing that something like Ride the Lightning serves up. But he's 14 now and has memorized the songs and solos like me. This concert was his birthday present from October and we'd been talking about this thing for more than half a year.
The day had finally arrived and we traveled south, checked in at my uncle's, then headed down to Uptown Charlotte and Bank of America stadium. As we drew near, so had the throng of metal lovers donning black shirts, nose rings, and skull tattoos that would make your mama shiver. We made our way to the gates, and we were early, two hours before the gates opened. We had general admission floor tickets, which meant we could theoretically get close to the band if we got in early enough to secure our spot. I read that you want to get in line at least three hours early to have a shot of getting close. We were about 20th in line, and I was feeling optimistic.
Waiting in line for Metallica is good people-watching and listening. The green-haired girl in front of you is sharing stories of past shows, laced with expletives that would make a sailor blush, while the black-bearded dude with a homemade concert vest behind you is sharing a story of tripping on salvia and thinking he was an octopus for 14 years. Then there are old dudes and dudettes with faded tour shirts and tats, sucking on vapes and reminiscing about being kids on the Kill 'Em All tour. Hudson and I were fans amidst superfans. These people were serious about their band. And as much as I joke, they were super good-natured.
It was getting close to 4 and we were taking our last swigs of water, checking our pockets to ensure we weren't unknowingly carrying missles into the stadium, which the entrance sign said were prohibited. Come on now, this is a metal show, have a little leeway, Panther Stadium. The gates opened, we scurried through, took a whiz, bought a poster, grabbed our wristbands, and headed to the stadium floor. Amazingly, only the rail next to the stage was lined with people. We would have an incredible spot, assuming we didn't get bulldozed out by a gaggle of meatheads with heavy metal running through their veins.
About the spot. We knew the stage was set up with four drum kits that would come up from under the stage, one at a time, for a quarter of the show. No one except the roadies knew where the first one would pop up, or what songs they might play in front of you. So picking our spot was the luck of the draw. We would see...
The opening band was Suicidal Tendencies, which included Jay Weinberg on drums. He was really good and the band had a lot of energy, not the least of which was Mike Muir, their ageless and indefatigable frontman. Now, before the show, I read that high-fidelity earplugs were advisable for metal shows, so I confess that I gave them a try for this opener. They muffled the sound but in no way enhanced it. I was embarrassed. How dare I bring earplugs to a show. How foolish of me to think I'd put those things in for Metallica. I was quite all right if the band deservedly thrashed me for it.
The crowd started to fill in, and next up was Pantera. A band with some great metal songs of their own, they were accentuated by their tour guitarist, Zack Wylde, who's famous for being the lead guitarist for Ozzy Osbourne. He's perhaps the raddest-looking dude I've ever seen on stage, a combo of a Viking, UFC fighter, and metal shredder. I was convinced he could play a solo that made my soul squeal and go right into eating a whole chicken alive. I mean I was ready for it.
Following Pantera, we estimated we had 30 minutes to pee and rehydrate before the real show began. I got in a bathroom line that was so long you would’ve thought it was to meet the band. One show veteran was talking to his rookie friend about what time they’d come on stage, and explained that first AC/DC plays to a tour montage on the video screen. The friend asked if AC/DC was actually there. I concluded he didn’t need any more beer. When I returned to the floor, the crowd had filled in, and I couldn’t find Hudson. He called me and raised his poster tube high in the air. I squeezed through to him. We were still just three rows back. Oh babies.
As the Charlotte sun set, we surveyed the crowd around us, now a completely filled football stadium. The energy was palpable. The wave broke out. There was only one thing left to happen. The AC/DC montage came, then finally, the classic opener, the Ecstacy of Gold. The video played from the eight massive towers above, while things started to happen on the stage. Just in front of us, a drum kit slowly, dramatically emerged from beneath the stage. Could it be? Could they be starting the show in front of us?
Out came Lars, Metallica's dynamo drummer, with one arm in the air, saluting those about to rock. Following him were bassist Robert Trujillo and lead guitar legend Kirk Hammett, donning an electric blue jacket and fiery orange guitar, looking as rock star as ever. To our left came frontman James Hetfield, maybe the greatest axe thrasher to ever live. Then the first chords came, crunchy and fast. The song was "Creeping Death," Hudson's favorite. Game on.
Upon being blasted for a glorious four minutes, the song started to close with James asking the crowd if we brought our voices. Yessir, but they won't last for long. 75,000 belted the chorus, then James returned to his axe for the final melody. At this point, Kirk came in from our right and James from our left, converging side by side in front of Lars. Rock immortals playing together, right in front of us. Pinch me, pinch me, this couldn't be real. They launched into the final solo of the song, shredding wildly together, subsequently melting our faces into puddles of epidermal goo. It was OK, I didn't need a face anymore. I'd gladly donate it to the bowels of Bank of America Stadium to witness this awesomeness.
Once the song was over, I was completely satisfied with this birthday investment and could've left right then and there. But then they broke into "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and we decided to stick around. From there they launched into Ride the Lightning, and Kirk played Hudson's favorite solo right in front of him. In fact, they started the show with three songs from Ride the Lightning, Hudson's favorite album. I think we might be good for the next three birthdays, honestly.
After a few more pounding bangers from their newer albums, we applauded and I squatted to rest my back. As soon as I hopped up, an explosion of fireballs filled the stage and James bellowed, "Gimme fuel, gimme fire, gimme thou which I desire!" Whatever you want, man, I will run and get it for you. I won't object if all you want to do is watch flames leap out at me and terrify my soul. If thou desire that, so be it.
Soon after, a beautiful moment came as James plucked the opening chords to "Nothing Else Matters" while the crowd turned on their phone lights. As the stadium became candlelit, a light rain started to come down. There was no rain in the forecast, and some of us on the floor wondered if it was part of the show. Nope, the good Lord just made it drizzle for this song, and as soon as melodies, solos, creschendos, and final notes played, the rain ceased. Lars looked up to the heavens with his sticks out as if to say, "Did that just happen?" One of the coolest, most spontaneous moments I've ever witnessed at a show.
But enough sappy crap, it was time to get loud again. James asked us if we liked it heavy. Sir Hetfield, you could play Barney the purple dinosaur and it would pulverize my bones into powder. Make it heavy and flatten me like a pansy. The band launched into "Sad But True," and I thought of Tim and thanked the Lord I didn't lose my hearing the first time I heard the song.
Next up was "One," a song about an incapacitated soldier returning home from war. The video screens played a barbwire graphic that was very...well...metal. "One" is a true epic. It starts as if someone is playing a delightful melody for the king in his court, and ends as if the king and his court are waging war on a medieval battlefield. It's such a technical, fast song, and the band's timing was impeccable. These guys were still masters of their domain, kings of their castles.
The show was winding down, but it was really more of a winding up. Up into a level of psychosis called "Seek and Destroy." At his "seek" command, James implored the crowd to shout "and destroy" and we unquestionably obeyed. As he broke into the wicked riff, dozens of beach balls the size of world-record pumpkins fell from the sky. Chaos ensued as we batted any ball that came near us, while still witnessing the thrashing upon the stage.
Halfway through the song, James came over and played in front of us. In an unexpected moment of levity, he broke character while singing to laugh at the madness behind us. Grown men and women had brought a ball to the ground and were laying on top of it and under it in a desperate attempt to gain an M72 Tour souvenir. In all this madness, it felt like highest energy song of the show.
After that, the band laid into the all-time classic "Master of Puppets." As they played, two guys behind me had snagged their own beach ball and were giving all they had to deflate the monstrosity. I couldn't help but think that while the greatest metal band ever was playing arguably their greatest song on the stage, these guys had chosen to spend all their energy and focus on squeezing the air out of a ball. I judged them and their life choice harshly. James, you got any fireballs left for these jokers?
Upon the glorious ending of Master, there was only one thing left to do: Play Enter Sandman. And enter he did, giving us the most wonderfully disturbing lullabye we could ever dream of.
And that was the show. The lights came on and the band gave their bows and goodbyes. Lars came down and walked to the rail directly in front of us. It was cool to see him so close, not just because he's a star, but also because he was so normal. Not a big guy at all, with a gentle voice and a cheerful smile. He talked to a kid, gave him his stick, and moved on.
That was a microcosm of what may have been the coolest part of all of this. To see these guys, one of the most successful bands ever, rock immortals who would have every reason to look at their fans from an elevated level, be so gracious and honored by the experience instead. Throughout the show, James said things like "I love my job" and "that fills my heart up to here" and "you guys have been following us for 140 years and I want you to know we don't take that for granted."
At one point in the show, James asked what parents were there with their kids. Of course, Hudson and I screamed, as did many others in the crowd. "There's no better bonding experience than that." Metallica, as virulent and impressive as ever, has reached a place where they, too, seem to be in awe of it all. They feel luckier than good. They've found the vitality of community, where the shared experience is better than their performance or our enjoyment.
That was something special to be a part of, and Huds and I will never forget it.
