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 Metallica frontman James Hetfield rocks Winnipeg's MTS Centre last Monday night. (Marcel Cretain/Sun Media) |
WINNIPEG -- For you and me, it was Thanksgiving. But for the guys in Metallica, it was just another Monday back at work -- complete with commute, meetings and take-out food.
"We just flew in from San Francisco today," says lead guitarist Kirk Hammett, sipping tea backstage at a sold-out gig at Winnipeg's MTS Centre. "Actually, I took a red-eye into San Francisco at 5 a.m. and slept a couple of hours, then went and had a burrito at like, 8 a.m. And it wasn't even a breakfast burrito, bro -- it was a full-on burrito!
"Then I got back on a plane with the other guys. And now that we're on this week-on, week-off tour schedule, it's the same every Monday morning.
"We're all fathers, so we commiserate about what our kids are doing. A common quote is, 'All right! We're back on tour; now we can get some sleep' or 'We're back on tour; now I can read the paper.' "
Burritos? Sleep? Newspapers? Welcome to the glamourous world of heavy metal. These days, the sex and drugs are mostly gone from rock 'n' roll -- especially in Metallica's case. What you're left with are schedules. Business. And a lot of hurry up and wait. I saw for myself the other day. Here's how it went:
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4:45 p.m. -- I arrive at MTS Centre to meet publicists and be escorted backstage for a 6 p.m. interview. I am, admittedly, a wee bit ticked; first at being asked to report 75 minutes early for an interview on Thanksgiving -- "just in case they're running early" -- and because I can't speak to frontman James Hetfield (who isn't talking) or drummer Lars Ulrich (who is being interviewed by one of several contest winners who are also here). It's not that I dislike Hammett; he's a good guy. But I've already spoken to him. Even so, this shouldn't be nearly as annoying as my Metallica encounter last spring in Texas, where I had to endure multiple circles of publicist and security hell (not all of which were their fault), and then wait hours for an interview -- only to be told at the last second I would not be speaking to Ulrich as promised, but bassist Robert Trujillo (what's the deal, Lars -- chicken?)
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5:20 p.m. -- After much loitering -- and a trip to the other end of the building to get my will-call ticket, which I still am required to have even though I have a backstage pass (see what I mean about security?) -- myself, a local TV crew and a knot of fans are herded downstairs. A handler advises us to go to the bathroom now, or hold it for the duration (being vaguely professional, I went at home.) I am taken to my lavish interview suite: A windowless concrete bunker no bigger than a closet. It is labelled the Flex Room, which seems wildly optimistic. Inside are an end table, a black vinyl easy chair and a regular chair. Guess which is mine. A publicist brings me a bottle of water. I refrain from asking for bread while I cool my heels.
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5:30 p.m. -- Bandmembers -- whose much larger rooms are just down and across the hall -- arrive wearing tuques and scarves. We exchange nods as they pass. Lars laughs at the Flex Room sign by my door. For some reason, I feel slighted.
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5:40 p.m. -- A handler tells me he doesn't know how long I can talk to Kirk. Or precisely when. The gist: He'll come when he's ready. And stay as long as he wants. Trujillo and Ulrich (who is now clad in gym shorts) have already left the vicinity, presumably to do their interviews. Hetfield remains ensconced in his room, presumably brooding.
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5:55 p.m. -- As I chat with the publicist who's minding me, another handler comes by to say Kirk will be here "in two minutes." He fails to add, "or not."
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6:15 p.m. -- Hammett arrives. Like a lot of rock stars, he's short, skinny and soft-spoken. He's wearing all black -- jeans, T-shirt and hoodie -- with camo high-top Converse sneakers. He tells me about his long travel day -- which makes my 90-minute wait seem piddly and makes me feel sheepish for being miffed earlier -- and politely asks an assistant for tea. I ask if the band's week-on, week-off schedule is helping at home. "You would think it would be more balanced, but what really comes out is the extreme transition," he says, describing "the lifestyle change from being a family man and getting up at 5 a.m. ... to going to sleep at 5 a.m. after being out all night."
But the bandmembers wouldn't want to tour any other way these days; they're getting along better, feeling fresher and playing with more enthusiasm, which makes the shows better. "This is working out for us," Hammett says. He admits he's glad to be back on tour so he can play guitar for hours at a time, which he doesn't get (or want) to do at home -- though he did spend some time last week singing to his kids and playing his acoustic guitar, which "counts as practice."
We talk about their set list, which changes slightly each night. He says Ulrich picks the songs before every show, then the band gets together to make the final decision.
On Mondays, they tend to pick simpler numbers since they're still "easing back into it." While they have most of their catalogue at their fingertips, there are surprises. "Sometimes I get a little pissed off when somebody picks something we haven't played for months and I don't even know where the guitar solo is. I literally have to cram 10 minutes before we go on to get it down. But I usually pull it off." It helps that he improvises all his solos, he admits.
After some chit-chat about an upcoming Rock and Roll Hall of Fame benefit gig ("We're going to be playing something with Ozzy and maybe Tony Iommi," he enthuses); whether they plan to take an extended break after the tour wraps next year ("Whenever we say that, something always comes up, like an offer to play festivals in Europe, and I'm always the guy who says yes first"); whether there's new music in the pipeline ("We always have little bits and pieces. There's no shortage of that stuff; in fact, we have too many ideas. But I have a feeling our next album is going to be dynamite"); and previous shows in the Peg (including the time in 1986 when I crashed their hotel with members of The Mentors, who stole a bunch of their booze -- buy me a beer sometime and I'll tell you the whole sordid tale), we finish up with a handshake, and he heads off to the fan meet-and-greet.
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6:30 p.m. -- Hammett and Ulrich make their way down the line of contest winners in a nearby hallway. They are incredibly personable and chatty, signing posters, LP covers and other mementoes -- one woman has a used drumstick from a previous show, which Kirk manages to autograph -- and posing for pictures (Hammett smiles and throws devil horns). Ulrich is especially gregarious; after the guitarist is done and gone, he's still only halfway down the line, leafing through an old magazine a fan has brought. Finally, he works his way to the end, the grinning winners are ushered out and the bandmembers head back to prep for their 9 p.m. set time. Which means I have more than two hours to kill. Time to hurry up and wait some more. That's rock 'n' roll, baby!
DARRYL.STERDAN@SUNMEDIA.CA