Metallica: Français Pour Une Nuit

I seldom talk about Metallica. I reckon they really don't need that much of an attention considering how LARGE an act they are. If I had any urge in the past, it was to write about Death Magnetic. But it came at a very low point in my life. Needless to say, I missed my chance. Also if I were to say anything Metallica-related, chances are it would be bitchin' about how they had failed me in this or that aspect. 

What the hell, I need not do that really, for that would be a total waste of time. Off Metal Hammer TV: Guilty Pleasures - Just Don't Get It, Jamey Jasta of Hatebreed already said it: "anything you say about Metallica bad, it's like pissing in the ocean, it doesn't fucking matter!". 

So clear yourself of any inhibitions, I'm not here to take potshots at them!

An overload of Metallica live videos clearly can't get me stoked enough to have a few more. Cunning Stunts, in hindsight is something to remember with fondness. Even if it has been ridiculed to the max, it was a huge affirmation of a big turning point in the band's history. I have it in my rack, along with their set in the Monsters of Rock in Moscow, Woodstock '99 and some other live clips from the hillbilly-where's-the-handlebar-moustache James Hetfield era. I have none from the present line-up, and I dig Robert Trujillo. Problem is, I already got Ozzy's Live in Budokan, and he's already more than amazing there.

But it's just too hard to ignore the fact that Metallica: Français Pour Une Nuit (French For One Night, is that it?) is one badass almost-medieval metal live dvd. I found it impossible not to get my hands on this one, evidently everything about it tells me it falls into great halls of awesomeness. True enough as it actually took place in the literally awesome halls of a Roman amphitheater! 

Aaah, Metallica. It's no question you disappoint at times but you sure know how to win your fans back!

Shot in the Arena of Nîmes in France with a completely French crew, it's remarkable seeing this almost 2,000 year-old Roman structure ooze with so much electricity as if recreating what took place eons ago. Take note that it's impossible to deliver Creeping Death live, without the 'DIE! DIE! DIE! chant. Come to think of it, centuries ago it must have been that same feel with Gladiators and a huge crowd raising fists and yelling DIE! in whatever Romance language form used at the time. And have I said these Four Horsemen actually entered the arena via the coliseum's gladiator tunnel?

I can cite a hundred reasons but I'm not sure really, as to why I was completely blown away by this live disc. Maybe I was expectin' less, and they came out 'round prepared for this one. Multiple cams, combined with good mixing, well that's a given. Maybe a decent audio set-up got me surprised how tight they played as a four-piece. Close scrutiny tells me how perfect their parts were, how well-executed the thrashing of both guitars was done. Especially in the song Dyer's Eve, which I must say, stands above the rest of their other performances for that night.  Hell, maybe it was the old Roman coliseum and my insatiable thirst for anything and everything bloody in European History that got me into this dvd! 

But the location shot can only get one so far. If I were to single out one factor why I was so snagged by this that it finally got me writing, it would have to be that they played so much from ..And Justice. Which by the way, is my favorite Metallica record. And merits more space and time for me to brag about. But I'm just too damn glad the ..And Justice songs were played in full length, not like the fuckin' medleys they used to do!! The tracklist below shows it, they launched forth with Blackened, and they even played Harvester Of Sorrow! I'm sure there's just four tracks from it, but better that than any other post Black Album stuff. But then I realize there's no better theme for such a location other than what the cover of ..And Justice speaks of. 

You all know the drill. You must have seen a lot of Metallica's live performances, and quite tellingly, you might place them as predictable in a way. Well set this one aside, for it's an entirely different ride. There's just no better way to appreciate the Arena of Nîmes in a rockin' show, unless maybe, you dig Rammstein or Dire Straits.

TRACKLIST

01. Blackened
02. Creeping Death
03. Fuel
04. Harvester of Sorrow
05. Fade to Black
06. Broken, Beat and Scarred
07. Cyanide
08. Sad But True
09. One
10. All Nightmare Long
11. The Day That Never Comes
12. Master of Puppets
13. Dyers Eve
14. Nothing Else Matters
15. Enter Sandman

--Encore--
16. Stone Cold Crazy
17. Motorbreath
18. Seek and Destroy

Trivium Live in Manila Pictures.. and The Law of Attraction.

Remember these scenes from the film Detroit Rock City? You're damned right this is the ultimate heavy metal moment. It happens in dreams, and to some who may have thought of it subconsciously, and eventually ended up realizing it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let's talk books. Those self-help ones.

If you're fuckin bored you are probably gonna read on, so if you're not, scrap the dilly-dallying and head straight for the pictures.

Ain't it funny how the United States had turned into a mecca of self-help fanaticism?  Prozac Nation, no shit it has become. I figured it won't be long before their streets turn into one big flea market of self-help books addressing issues of a wide assortment- from surviving your 7th divorce to escaping furtive glances while walking your chihuahua. 

I'd just like to say that I have a personal disgust for small dogs, like poodles. I have some serious physical problems with them. Everything about them means I must kill them. I must. - W. Axl Rose

As for me, I've gotten myself a copy of Robert Greene's 48 Laws of Power. But I had done so without the intent of absorbing every nitty-gritty of it just so I could be the biggest asshole in the workplace. I did so because it's a pretty damn fine history book, having all the facts and figures laid out in such a neat trivial manner. 

John C. Maxwell's Failing Forward, which I read in private, is something I have never considered worthy of my shelf. Several expatriates from an office I used to work for continuously and annoyingly, as if with a cattle hotshot-type prod,  recommended we read it. That it would change our lives significantly and all that bullcrap..  I  had prepped myself up for some heavy reading, but to be honest I find Richard 'Little Miss Sunshine' Hoover's talks much more poignant and inspiring. I am most especially ashamed to have read a Maxwell. Considering I blow a huge chunk of my salary on books, I actually spent hours reading it in private in some grubby bookstore corner rather than buy the crap. After several visits, I did finish the book, albeit  wholly  dissatisfied. Aggravating more my disappointment, John C. Maxwell subsequently faced raps for concealing a gun through airport security. Oh well.. But that incident was just last year!

Hell, I ain't no big fan, really, of all these self-help shit. I figured early on I'm quite good enough to be a shrink of my own. I blast my speakers to eleven with all the heaviest tracks I can summon, and that's it! And through all the negativity I reckon it's not much aid as well being guru extraordinaire with regard to positive thinking. I have always been the 'expect the worst' type of fellow who's better off being at the ready with disappointment. Plus, spirits are double the high if you get triumphant otherwise!

No wonder I'm not getting any richer. 

A succinct repackaging of everything that embraces the power of positive thinking is how The Secret by Rhonda Byrne has been perceived by many. The reason for my  tedious foreword  is indeed my reluctance to read that book, much less believe what it has to say. Seriously, after getting a glimpse of its content, all the stupidest decisions I had made in the past slammed right smack in my face. 

I recall that right after the Arch Enemy finaIe I had hauled my brother's ass out of VIP, for fear of a slow-moving exit queue and an exploding bladder. He was, for the entirety of that evening, mumbling non-stop on how he's feeling Daniel Erlandson's drumstick in his hands. We had just rounded the corner when, much to my surprise, all five AE members had gotten back  to the front most part of the stage and had taken their bow, sparks of pyro flying in the air. Right after, I remember seeing Michal Amott releasing his guitar picks right below his feet, as if handing them from one person to the next. And then, Daniel started launching his sticks, right to the spot where we had placed ourselves all night.

By far, it was THE loudest what-the-fuck of my life.

It wouldn't be that long a wait before my brother had his next next chance. So much for this elder naysayer, I wasn't there to consistently retort that 'it's impossible' on that recent Trivium concert. The Secret may have worked, but the pessimist deemed it was destiny.

Nick Augusto or Travis Smith, that little piece of scraped wood is sure to be going to some place of honor once it gets its glass casing.