Metallica Erupts in Charlotte: “Master of Puppets” Still Rules After 40 Years
On a cool Saturday evening, thousands swarmed Bank of America Stadium in uptown Charlotte, all clad in black T‑shirts, patches, and bandanas—a gothic sea unified by a singular purpose. It wasn’t just a concert; it was a collective pilgrimage for thrash-metal disciples converging for Metallica’s M72 World Tour. The atmosphere was electric, even before the lights dimmed.
As the house lights dropped, the stadium erupted—Ennio Morricone’s “The Ecstasy of Gold” boomed through the speakers, sending shivers down spines. Every beat seemed amplified by decades of pilgrimage—since their first stadium shows in the ’80s. The anticipation was palpable; fans knew they were about to witness a legendary ritual.
The band tore in with “Creeping Death,” its signature galloping riff ringing out across the stadium. The lights pulsed in synchrony, the crowd roared, and Lars Ulrich’s drums were seismic. It was the second song from Ride the Lightning, and it set the tone: a blistering return to the era that built them.
“For Whom the Bell Tolls” followed, with its iconic opening bass toll echoing through the air. James Hetfield’s vocals cut clear and strong, and the pit surged like a tidal wave. The song’s anti-war imagery and melodic heaviness made it a centerpiece for this electric night.
“Ride the Lightning” itself erupted next, with that legendary dual-guitar intro cutting sharp as lightning. Kirk Hammett’s lead work soared, while the fans headbanged in perfect unison. It was a nostalgic nod to the early days—1984—and a message that these songs still have teeth.
“The Memory Remains” injected something newer into the flow. A Reload era anthem, its haunting chorus and swirling instrumental outro captured the modern edge of Metallica’s evolving sound. The band’s ability to blend past and present was on full display.
Then came “Lux Æterna,” a triumphant entry from their 72 Seasons album. It roared with fresh energy and left no doubt: Metallica aren’t resting on past glory—they’re still writing powerful new chapters in their legacy, a theme woven throughout this tour.
The momentum carried into “Screaming Suicide,” another cut from 72 Seasons. This rager’s heavy riffs and brutal drumming reminded everyone that Metallica still bring unrelenting intensity, three decades into their career.
Midway through the set, Kirk and Robert launched into their playful “Kirk & Rob Doodle,” featuring snippets of “Devil’s Lettuce” blended with “Broken, Beat & Scarred.” A fun, improvised moment that harkened back to their jam-heavy live roots.
“The Day That Never Comes” and “Fuel” took things deeper. The former, a modern masterpiece with its emotional intensity, and the latter, a high-octane blast that ignited the stadium into a frenzy. Crowd surges, fist-pumps, and collective roars—they all unfolded in these song cycles.
Then came “Orion,” a rare live favorite dedicated to Cliff Burton. Instrumental and cinematic, it’s a love letter to their fallen bassist and a reminder of Metallica’s origins. The crowd paused reverently, letting the music paint its wordless tribute.
In a reversal of roles, they took things down a notch for the acoustic‑fused “Nothing Else Matters,” creating a tender moment of unity. Fans held lighters aloft, voices joined in in a stadium-wide choir, and even the roughest-looking punks became soft-eyed participants.
Energy surged again when “Sad But True” hit. The crushing, low‑end riffs caused the floor to vibrate. The relentless groove shook the stadium, and nobody stood still—this was raw, visceral metal; primal, stomping, and dark as a midnight sky.
Then it was time for “One,” with its haunting, war‑torn narrative building into a manic crescendo. The intertwining melodic solo and thrash explosion hit with full force, and even casual observers felt the emotional weight—a dramatic metal symphony.
The grand finale: “Seek & Destroy,” “Master of Puppets,” and an earth-shaking “Enter Sandman.” Hetfield shouted “Scanning the scene in Charlotte tonight!” as beach balls bounced overhead during “Seek & Destroy.” Then came the eight-minute juggernaut “Master of Puppets”—flawless riffs, blazing solos—followed by the anthemic “Enter Sandman,” drenched in deep blue light. It was a fitting capstone, echoing back to the first time they played stadiums, while encapsulating everything that makes Metallica immortal. The crowd parted, drenched, breathless, hearts still pounding.
