I usually go to concerts alone. To prevent from dying from boredom waiting for the main act to come on and the risk of listening to crappy support bands, I often turn up just on time or slightly late. No self-respecting hard rock band would come on before 9 anyway.
Not this time though, I flew in to Melbourne early during the day, frolicked around the city for a couple of hours with my heavy bag slung across the shoulder, and walked from one end to the other (from Queen Victoria Market in Northern side to Rod Laver in the South). There is no better way to see a city than on your feet. I found an awesome bookshop (Reader's Feast), which I'd certainly have missed if I was in a car. It is surprisingly grand for its deceptively small entrance to an underground arcade. The National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) had an exhibition of paintings of European Masters from Stadel Museum that was quite impressive, and in retrospect, quite a contrast to what I was going to experience later.
Rod Laver had a centre stage surrounded by standing area, then seats all around the arena. The band gets to run around to face the audience on different sides. The drummer (Lars Ulrich) had a spin-table under his drum set, so throughout the concert, he was rotated around to face the crowd. I arrived quite early, so I was on the railing, an arm length away from the stage. It was an exciting notion to begin with, especially during the two supporting acts. I had never heard of them before and would probably not listen to their angry music by choice, but being so close and upfront with the band, they did sound agreeable.
When Metallica finally came on after a 20 minute intermission, the crowd got wild. I didn't go to the concert expecting to find Metallica fans to wear pink T-shirts with rainbows and unicorns, but I wasn't prepared for the moshing. I have no problem with people throwing their fists up in the air, shouting, screaming and jumping, but it became a problem when people behind you start to push, I was trapped in between the momentum of the crowd and the railing that was waiting to crush my squishy lungs. I couldn't beat them, and so I joined them. At one point my feet were totally off the ground drifting in the waves of human tide. When I finally made it to the back of the crowd, I was exhausted, I had lost my precious spot right up the front, but I was glad that I survived. From the back, it was an interesting sight to see people like sardines, squashed together, mash towards the stage. I remember thinking, this must be what ancient/Medieval battle line feels like. I had my suspicions when I noticed that the guy wedged his way to the front had a tatoo of Ned Kelly on his back.
It was a great concert nonetheless.
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