Metallica Tore Open Old Wounds with a Thunderous “For Whom the Bell Tolls” in Santa Clara 2025
The late-afternoon haze still clung to the Santa Clara sky when the PA faded from AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top” and the first resonant bell echoed across Levi’s Stadium, announcing “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” Fifty-plus thousand fans shifted at once, phones raised and horns high, electrified by the familiar peal and the promise of a few minutes of pure Bay-Area thunder.
Metallica slotted the song early—fourth in a set already roaring with “Creeping Death”—and the decision jolted the crowd with a shock of nostalgia. Fire cannons on the 360-degree stage erupted in sync with Lars Ulrich’s floor-tom hits, while LED bells swung on towering screens overhead, so every corner of the stadium felt those ominous chimes.
Written in 1984 for Ride the Lightning after Cliff Burton binge-read Hemingway’s novel on a tour bus, “For Whom the Bell Tolls” has always been equal parts protest anthem and funeral dirge. Hearing it nearly forty-one years later, in the band’s home region, gave its bass-driven war story a new edge—Cold-War ghosts merging with the anxieties of 2025.
The generational spread in the pit told the tale: college kids in 72 Seasons hoodies screamed alongside gray-haired veterans who’d seen the 1985 Day on the Green. Parents hoisted ear-protected children for a view; teens livestreamed the opening riff on TikTok, peppering comments with skull emojis and the immortal quip “Cliff ’em all.”
Visual designer Dan Braun leaned into symbolism, programming the massive cylindrical screens to show sepia trenches and finally a silent mushroom cloud blooming exactly as James Hetfield barked, “Take a look to the sky just before you die.” It was half history lesson, half arena-rock spectacle, and every Instagram reel begged for a replay.
Robert Trujillo, in black basketball shorts and high socks, coaxed that famous distorted bass intro with a bow-legged swagger echoing Burton’s stance. Halfway through, he turned toward the seat Cliff’s family occupies whenever Metallica plays the Bay, nodded once, then dug back into the riff—handing the legacy forward and backward in the same breath.
Kirk Hammett, wielding his Ouija-board ESP, stretched the mid-song lead into a tapped firestorm, quoting licks from his 1989 Seattle solo before veering into harmonic squeals that made long-timers raise eyebrows. Ulrich, meanwhile, rode the bell of his ride cymbal so fiercely that three separate microphone channels clipped, according to backstage techs.
Hetfield’s charisma was in full commander mode—chin forward, right hand down-picking eighth-notes at drummer speed. Between verses he split the stadium into halves for a thunderous call-and-response of “You know it’s true,” the echo rolling back to the stage louder than the PA.
Sunday’s crowd was living the second night of a two-show stand, each with unique setlists, so ticket-holders had speculated for days about surprises. When those bells tolled, message boards lit up in real time, gloating that June 22 scored the heavier old-school treat.
Openers Pantera and Suicidal Tendencies had primed the arena with their own riff storms, doubling the sense of lineage. Trujillo flashed a quick ST hand sign at Mike Muir watching side-stage, drawing cheers that survived well into the next chorus.
Levi’s Stadium’s new distributed-audio system banished its old echo; even the top rows felt the bass intro land with studio-quality punch. Engineers credited hidden delay towers, while fans simply marveled at hearing every pick scrape in the quiet lead-in.
Clips of the song flooded social media before the encore. A 4K phone video of the breakdown hit X’s trending page under #M72SantaClara within twenty minutes, and by dawn views had eclipsed half a million, with comments comparing the energy to Moscow ’91.
Local press seized on the apocalypse vibe, running headlines about Metallica still being “the soundtrack to our anxiety.” The article singled out “For Whom the Bell Tolls” as the night’s emotional apex, proof the band can still channel dread into catharsis.
Yet the power extended beyond spectacle. As the last sustained chord rang out and stage lights dipped to black, Hetfield whispered, “We love you, Cliff,” audible only through in-ear feeds. The audience exhaled together—many wiping eyes—before the band slammed into “Fuel.”
By the time fireworks framed the stage and “Master of Puppets” faded, consensus was clear: Santa Clara had witnessed a performance destined to rank with classics like Donington ’95 and Orion ’13. The bell may toll for unnamed soldiers, but on June 22, 2025, it also tolled for every fan lucky enough to stand in its echo.
