Metallica Brought Folk Fury to Life with a Thunderous “Whisky in the Jar” in Tampa 2025

Under the thick Florida air on June 8, 2025, Metallica lit up Raymond James Stadium in Tampa with a firestorm of sound, fury, and sheer energy. Fans packed in shoulder to shoulder, knowing this would be no ordinary night. This was the second night of a no-repeat weekend, and every attendee knew they were about to witness something unique.

As the show reached its midpoint, after the aggressive pummeling of “Creeping Death” and the explosive fury of “Fuel,” the lights shifted and the tone changed. The unmistakable intro to “Whisky in the Jar” began to ring out—a bold and unexpected turn that sent a fresh wave of energy across the crowd.

James Hetfield stepped up to the mic with his signature grin, and as he growled out the first verse, it was clear this wasn’t just another setlist addition. It was a celebration. Metallica turned this centuries-old Irish folk ballad—already reinvented by Thin Lizzy—into their own triumph of raw groove and hard-hitting melody.

Kirk Hammett’s guitar work sparkled with character during the solo sections. He played it not as a strict metal anthem but with a swagger that gave the song a barroom brawler’s edge. The audience responded with pure joy, swaying, stomping, and singing every word like it was their own story being told.

Robert Trujillo’s bass thundered beneath the mix, anchoring the song with a heavy low-end drive that pushed it closer to a war chant than a pub tune. The rhythm section—tight and thunderous—kept the entire stadium moving, heads nodding and fists raised in rhythmic approval.

The song was a refreshing moment of looseness in a night otherwise packed with razor-edged thrash. It showed a different side of the band: one that could step out of its furious comfort zone and still dominate with style and confidence. Metallica reminded everyone that great songs can cross centuries and genres when delivered with heart.

The visuals were dialed in perfectly. Warm amber and green lights cascaded over the band as they rolled through the choruses, matching the song’s rootsy undertones. The massive video wall behind them played slow-motion shots of the crowd—smiling, shouting, reveling—capturing the communal joy in real time.

This wasn’t the first time “Whisky in the Jar” had made its way into Metallica’s setlists, but this performance stood out. There was something about playing it under the open sky in a city that’s long embraced heavy metal that gave it extra weight and warmth. It felt like a homecoming.

James’s voice carried a rich, lived-in grit that elevated the narrative of betrayal and revenge within the lyrics. Unlike the album version, he pushed his phrasing with more soul, like he was telling a personal tale of old scars and louder consequences.

The audience, sensing how rare the moment was, leaned in rather than just cheering through it. Many had expected more blistering thrash, but the joy in hearing something groovy and melodic—and performed with this level of authenticity—took them by surprise in the best way.

There were no gimmicks, no pyro during this one—just four musicians owning a stage and breathing new life into a song that predates rock ’n’ roll itself. The purity of the moment underscored how Metallica’s power doesn’t come from tricks—it comes from presence.

As the final chorus rang out and the song hit its last punchy chord, the band didn’t immediately rush into another hit. Instead, there was a moment of pause. The crowd roared in appreciation, a wall of cheers echoing across the stadium. You could tell that something had landed deeply.

Even Lars Ulrich, often in constant motion, took a brief second to raise a stick to the sky and nod to the audience. It wasn’t rehearsed—it was reaction, pure and unscripted. That’s what made this version of “Whisky in the Jar” so powerful: it felt lived, not performed.

From there, the band launched into heavier territory with “Battery” and “Moth Into Flame,” but the soul of “Whisky” lingered like smoke in the rafters. It was the kind of performance you remembered not for its volume, but for its soul, its swing, and its ability to surprise.

By the end of the night, as “Enter Sandman” closed the show in a blitz of strobes and sweat, “Whisky in the Jar” still stood out—proof that even amid thrash anthems and metal mayhem, Metallica can reach back in time, grab a dusty old tune, and make it feel like the most alive thing in the world.