The ‘post-show blues’ is a common thing people get, after seeing a show from a beloved artist. The blues i encounter has nothing to do with the show itself; it has everything to do with returning to the cycle of loneliness i experience, after a weekend of community and hugs.

My connection to the artists i love has less to do with music, than other factors. i’ve mentioned on other posts how my connection to Metallica is more of a spiritual and philosophical one, so i did not expect my experience of seeing them in St. Louis to be any different. The one major difference about this weekend is that i spent time with people in the community, as opposed to spending most of my time alone.

Connection is very important to me. i’m not one of the ‘cool kids’ who are well-known or well steeped in the Metallica community; and despite my shyness i do make an effort to approach people and say hello, sometimes getting strange looks. i suppose i am also hidden in plain sight since i don’t look like a ‘typical Metallica fan’, so i get passed over a lot.

i also rarely, if ever, see others en route to or returning from a show, if traveling out of town. i hear stories of people always seeing each other at the airport or during a flight; there’s always word of a crew member sighting. i tend to never be the recipient of such fortune. But this time was different…

A heavily tattooed man approached me, asking if i was going to see Metallica. Though i wear hoodies and t-shirts quite a bit, no one really approaches me about it, so i was silently surprised by his question. As a heavily tattooed person myself, my interest is always piqued when i see others just as heavily (or more) inked. Because i tend to be covered up, most people aren’t aware of the art i have all over my body, so it is me who usually approaches others.

The heavily tattooed man finds a pick and hands it to me. i discovered that his name was Eric, and he worked on the crew of the opening band, Pantera- a band i have seen two or three times on their Vulgar Display Of Power tour in the early 1990s…. one of the shows being where they actually opened for Skid Row (on April 22, 1992 at the Paramount Theater in NYC). Eric left, then returned ten or so minutes later, where we briefly chatted about tattoos and their levels of pain. He ended up sitting a couple of rows in front of me on the plane.

He was a very nice person.

The waiting period after pre-boarding is one of several awkward moments, because with one leg people have to climb over you if you are not in a window seat. Most people are not expecting an amputee to just be sitting there. The knee of my amputated leg doesn’t bend much either, which makes it more awkward. Another awkward moment is the hope that you don’t have to go to the bathroom during the flight, especially if there’s not a lot of leg room between rows.

My body’s clock is interesting, because i tend to fall asleep immediately after takeoff (and right after the safety and emergency protocols), and i wake up right before the landing announcement. i tend to get very little rest before flying, so that nap is something i always look forward to. Prior to this flight to St. Louis i took a very brief 20-30 minute nap (in the wheelchair as i was preparing to pack); however, i had a tiny jolt of energy upon meeting Julian, who was also going to see the band.

His lack of cynicism and his display of love for the experience of Metallica made me incredibly happy. He talked about how his meeting people from all over the world and building community were the most important to him, ultimately proving that the notion of a ‘Metallica Family’ is not a trivial one. Julian made the experience less awkward for me.

When we got to STL/Lambert we went to baggage claim, where i waited for my bag and Julian waited for a friend. In the middle of that we saw Austin, who amazingly, we both knew. It was very much beginning to feel like a family reunion, where i was meeting all of my relations, some for the first time.

Once i got to the hotel room, all of the tiredness made its return, but not before the joy i felt being in a hotel room that was actually spacious enough for a wheelchair. Most rooms i stay in are workable, but not easy to maneuver in. The one downside of the room i stayed in- there was no bench in the bathroom. It is possible that they may have provided one if asked; that said, even though i am able to transfer in a bathtub on my own with one leg, not everyone can. It also isn’t pleasant to take a shower sitting in a bathtub with one leg. The upside of the bathroom was that the shower head was adjustable enough to actually accommodate someone who has to take a shower sitting down in the bath. This is rarely a thing i’ve seen in hotels. The other upside? There were washcloths! i usually have to remember to bring my own washcloths when i travel, because hotels tend not to have them available for some reason.

The social model of disability is very real. While i understand this i have to fight with myself every single day of my life that it is me who is in the way of everything because of my disability. i’m not the massively athletic, muscular person i once was; simply leaving the house and going wherever i want is no longer as easy, and i still struggle with hating myself because of it. Going to see Metallica is always a big deal for me, because it takes me a bit outside of that destructive self-doubt.

…Of course, the self-doubt is not totally removed, as the reality of isolation kicks in. Among the thousands of people attending the concert, i feel very alone. Because i am in a wheelchair i tend to get accessible seating (which is seating that complies with the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990- so imagine being disabled and attending a show prior to this… and imagine attending a venue that either has not complied, or is slow to the process of being in compliance- back to that good ‘ol social model).

As an amputee in a wheelchair i don’t necessarily want to be in general admission (GA) because i don’t want people falling all over me, especially when guitar and bass picks are being thrown. Prior to this current tour i have been in the snake pit at a Metallica show before- i wish this experience for everyone who wants to do this. It is unforgettable. i was inches away from the members of my second favorite band. At the same time it was pretty rough: i regret not one moment of being there, but standing with a prosthetic for 99% of their set was incredibly painful for me. And then once again, there’s the pick situation. Being in an accessible seat means you are far away from anyone else you know who is either in GA or snake pit. There’s a good chance you may see them only for a few moments, or not at all, which is what usually happens. While the most excited among us tend to be closer to the stage, there are a few of us farther away, among a sea of still-bodied audience members- dancing, thrashing, screaming and singing every lyric, and air drumming and guitaring to to every fill, riff and solo.

(Admittedly, while standing for a whole set is painful for my legs, my one wish is to be in the snake pit for at least one time on the M72 tour, so i can see my greatest musical inspiration, Lars Ulrich, in action. i got to see everyone else up close but him.)

While (as mentioned several times, including this piece) my relationship to Metallica is primarily spiritual and philosophical, there are times where the spiritual energy is incredibly strengthened, with little explanation. The first of the two nights (November 3 and 5) represented this for me specifically. From ‘Lux Æterna’ to ‘The Day That Never Comes’, i experienced a series of moments that almost matched what i felt at the 40th anniversary shows. There are many names people have for this specific energy- for me, it is the same energy espoused in Coltrane’s ‘Psalm’. i spent much of the show with my eyes closed, and allowed God (what i see as that universal energy, and the expression of it) to guide the process. While there tends to be a focus on the technicalities, i find peace and gratefulness in the humility that flows through the vulnerabilities and mistakes. i feel respect for a group of people who learned how to grow and be human with one another, in the course of the 42 years of their collective existence on this earth.

The other thing that gave me great joy may be a thing that isn’t of great importance to most who read this. As a 14, 15-year old kid whose favorite band was Metallica (and first saw them in concert at that age) i was made fun of a lot for being into ‘white people’s music.’ Even up to this year i have been told by folks that i ‘don’t look like the kind of person who would be listening to this type of music.’ So when i could count on more than six hands the amount of Africans i saw at this concert my heart felt so happy. This was unprecedented in my experience of seeing this band…. or any metal/rock band. While many will say that these sorts of things don’t matter (because… unity through music and such); when you are in a place where you see yourself represented either minimally or not at all, it ultimately does matter. When i was a young punk kid i didn’t see the types of more widespread acceptance- be it ethnicity, location (i ended up meeting someone from the St. Germany fan club chapter that night), gender/expression, orientation, ability/disability, neurodiversity- that i am only starting to see, 30 years later, as an old(er) punk kid. It is the beginning of a reality many of us punk kids actively worked towards all of these years.

After the show i waited two hours before i was able to get a ride back to the hotel. The traffic was pretty bad within the vicinity of the venue. After finally getting a ride, when i entered the car the music piqued my interest, and i exclaimed with joy that it was music from Mali. The driver was shocked i was aware of this, and i responded that i loved Malian music. We listened to Oumou Sangaré throughout the whole ride.

i may be a punk kid, but my musical interests are international.

The day in between the two shows was just as eventful.

It was a day many were waiting for, after the surprise announcement not too soon before, that James Hetfield- a man who has not done a meet and greet since 2017 (i think)- was doing a book signing for Messengers, a book documenting his various guitars over the years. i have his other book, Reclaimed Rust, so i expect this latest work (which i actually pre-ordered upon the announcement for the release) to be just as visually stunning. As a person who craves connection with others despite being massively shy; i empathize with James. i also empathize with there being a point that engaging with large numbers of people can be extremely overwhelming. This is the conundrum of a creative person. i don’t blame him at all for wanting to take a break and disengage. i have no idea what it feels like to be adored by thousands of people, and i am perfectly okay with that.

One thing i can say about the members of Metallica (now that i have actually met them all) is that they are sincerely interested in people beyond the surface of their music. While not perfect people, there is a collective humility that belies their celebrity.

Yes, i did end up meeting Mr. Hetfield, but it was a total surprise from my friend Lance. Just as Lars Ulrich is my greatest musical inspiration, James is perhaps Lance’s greatest inspiration.

i owe Lance a whole bunch for this.

As i met up with Lance at Left Bank Books (a bookstore that includes a cat in its logo so i automatically love them), the queue began to get longer and longer. As the queue became longer, it began to look very much like (again) a family reunion. There were people whose faces were familiar to me, as i have seen their photos and writings on forums, but have never met in person. There were people i have met several times, in real life. There were people i regularly speak to, and see every time there’s a Metallica gathering. It was overwhelming to me; however, as a person who longs for some kind of human interaction at this stage in my life i took it all in.

i saw and met Jen, Pedrum, Anthony, Dave, Christian, Clara, Paul, Julian (of course!), Drinnen and so many others.

(Photo no. 8 courtesy of Jen, and photos 9 & 10 courtesy of Lance)

As we were all waiting to enter the bookstore we were forewarned several times by a staff member- Don’t ask him questions and don’t touch him; he is excited to see all of you, but don’t do anything foolish.

Never imagining i’d ever meet one of the most elusive people ever; i still created narratives about what i’d say to him, despite the reality of that day never coming. i imagined myself admiring his full sleeve and hand coverage, commiserating on the joys of getting tattoos, despite how much less fun (and more painful) it is at an older age. i’d tell him how he (through his music) had a direct hand in saving my life, in my journeys of being an amputee and living with depression, and how his band helped me make sense of death- of relationships, and of a leg. i’d wish him plenty of hugs and well wishes for his continued healing journey.

But alas, it was a Dog Day Afternoon moment- There were plenty of things i could have said in the few seconds i had. What did i say?

“St. Anger is one of the greatest albums of all time.”

Of course what i had to say was not as meaningful as Lance, who spoke of losing his brother, of his own journey with sobriety, and how James inspired him. Rightly so, this moved James immensely. i’m sure what i had to say wasn’t as inspiring as the many others who waited to meet him.

What i had to say seems trivial in comparison, but you know what? St. Anger does mean a lot to me, and i got to tell the man who had a hand in creating one of the greatest works of art of all time; one of (to me) the top ten greatest albums of all time, this very thing. Did he think my comment was silly- especially in comparison to the more other substantial ones? i’m sure he did. What he did say in response though is something i’ve already been doing– After he laughed he said, in that ‘Papa Het’-style delivery, to “spread the word.”

i got to tell both my greatest musical inspiration and one of my favorite lyric writers of all time that St. Anger is one of the greatest ever albums of all time. It’s not an opportunity i will ever have again. People say that it is an album you listen to during your worst moments, but it is an album that gives me great joy- not only in my own listening experience; i also see the album in an even more positive light, knowing that the creation of this album (and the experiences contributing to it) led to the creation of an album like 72 Seasons; which, while St. Anger is one of the greatest albums of all time, it is, to me, their greatest work. It may not mean much in the grander scheme of life, but a wish has definitely been fulfilled.

My favorite moment though, was seeing the utter joy Lance had in meeting someone who greatly inspires him.

After the book signing, Lance and i went to eat at Bombay Food Junkies, a vegan restaurant emphasizing Indian-based street foods, started by Krupa and Sid Panchal. We actually were greeted by Krupa when we got there, but i was not aware of that until much later. If i were a restaurant connoisseur, i would honestly travel to St. Louis just to eat here again; this place is that good. It also lacked the pretentiousness many vegan-themed restaurants have. It actually reminded me of some of the old school smaller vegan/vegetarian sports i used to go to in NYC in the 90s, when being vegan was not yet popular. Similar to the NYC spots, there were also Muslims and Rastas eating at Bombay Food Junkies.

Seeing their mission statement was a bit bittersweet, as the ahimsa tattoo i had on my leg for many years- 25 years perhaps (in observance of being vegan)- is quite faint, due to taking the skin from that part of my leg for a skin graft.

We also met Daniel, one of the kindest people working at a restaurant i’ve ever encountered. He gave attention to everyone, ensuring one of the most positive experiences i’ve ever had in a place that was not my own kitchen.

For my 30th vegan anniversary next year, i may consider going back.

We then moved to Shrewsbury Lanes, where local radio station KSHE and folks on the Metallica crew co-sponsored a bowling party. This was another bittersweet moment because not only have i not bowled since the second grade; but without my prosthetic i wouldn’t even be able to go in a lane to bowl if i wanted to, thereby bringing back that good ‘ol social model of disability. We got there about 15 or 20 minutes before the game was over, but i did get to see Pedrum, Paul and Clara again.

Not yet finished with an already busy day, i headed to the Metal Up Your Podcast (MUYP) get-together, where Pedrum was kind enough to drive me (as it was close to the venue Bastardane were performing at. i saw them in NYC a few months back, so seeing them on top of an already busy and overwhelming (albeit good) day would have been a bit much for me).

i have met Clint before- for only a few seconds- when he was on tour with Morgan Wade. i have also been on a couple of episodes of MUYP, but we’ve never hung out in person before. i’ve met Amanda before as well, but only virtually, as she was one of the folks interviewed in the documentary i did on St. Anger. In what felt like a(nother) family reunion of sorts, i got to hang out with Clint, Amanda, Lee, Dylan, Brad, Joey and a few others, to the soundtrack of Metallica and Bad Religion, two of my favorite bands. i’m far from the coolest kid in the bunch, but i definitely felt welcomed.

A few of us continued into the new day from the night before, right before night two of the St. Louis stop on the M72 tour, by going to Vintage Vinyl. Record shops used to be like a second residence to me; i spent hours on end in them over the years. Given i don’t go out in public with as much frequency these days, any opportunity to find records in the wild- the stranger the better- always makes me happy. Finding a Keiji Haino, Naked City, Boredoms, Melt Banana, Albert Ayler or Sonny Sharrock vinyl would be a win for me- if you know any of these artists, you know (partly) why i love St. Anger and Lulu, from a musical perspective at least.

Outside of Vintage Vinyl i met a person who is a deep part of the fabric of St. Louis; a very kind man with a set of saxophones named Raven Wolf Jennings. Jazz is my favorite music in the whole entire world, so anyone playing it will always grab my attention. His mission is in playing ‘Spiritual Jazz …in the St. Louis Tradition’. As much as i am a fan of noise, i am also a fan of the sparse, peaceful and meditative. We were en route to go to see Metallica; if there was a bit more time i would have loved to have sat and had a conversation with him.

There were a few times i saw my closer relations within the ‘Metallica Family’ among the crowd; just as with the first night, a couple of them came up to visit and say hello. For the most part the second night of the concert left me alone once again though, amid a sea of stiff bodies as i danced, thrashed and screamed my way through the set… therein lying the conundrum of being a disabled person in a venue. Do people in wheelchairs end up in GA? Absolutely! Is it a risk they take when going? Also absolutely. i don’t even blame them. It’s a different kind of feeling being among people who are just as excited to see a show as you are.

There is something about a Metallica concert. Though this was my 12th time seeing them live; though this is the third place on the map i’ve seen on this specific tour and though i have seen these songs before, even knowing much of the banter and fills; the experience is always beyond the music and is weaved into my own life and healing journey. When the lights suddenly go down and you hear the opening riff to AC/DC’s ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)’; when you hear the roar of Lars’ floor toms, and James’ counting of “One! Two! One Two Two Two!” before the snare roll kicks in to what ultimately has become the spiritual anthem of the band- ‘Whiplash’- it is an opening call for everyone in that venue to be in communion with one another, or get left behind. It is an anthem that dictates for the experience to be beyond the music. It is amazing that this little boastful and seemingly ‘immature’ song they recorded at the ages of 18 and 19 is just as powerful, 40 years later.

i cannot say for sure, but i think James began singing “you’re Metallica” as opposed to “we’re,” starting in 1985. The first time i recall seeing it was at the Metal Hammer show- one of my top three shows of theirs of all time. i’m not sure why he began singing it in that way; my guess is that it was still a means of connection with the folks who stuck with them from the days of the small clubs of L.A. and San Francisco, before they began playing bigger festivals and international tours. Whatever the original intent was, my personal interpretation of it at this point is one of survival. Through the number of controversies, contradictions and catastrophes, this band has survived. And they are all the better for it. Yes, Metallica is a band. They are an organization. You can even argue that they are a brand. But people continue to see them, because it is an experience that will far outlast their physical form.

Though most of us will never know the band on a personal level; though they are a bit older (and a lot more financially secure) than most of us, there is a gift they have that expands beyond our understanding of the material. Good music relays the message of the masses’ material realities and conditions, but it also has the ability of being a healing force of the universe. There is a point where we must let go of all the imperfections made on stage, and just allow ourselves to grant ourselves permission to experience gratitude for the gift of music.

On my final day in St. Louis (at least for now), i spent a bit of time with Carly (who was visiting family, but did not get to go to the shows) before returning to the airport. This was also the first time we’ve met in person, after much texting and talking on the phone. It was a nice surprise, since i found out the day before that she was in town. i recommended we go to Bombay Food Junkies (since i wanted to go there one more time before i left town); i’m glad Carly enjoyed it!

On the plane, i did get a good nap in, waking up (as usual) right before the ‘approaching destination’ announcement was made. Most people were unrecognizable from the first flight except for seeing Julian again, which was a nice surprise.

i am incredibly grateful to be able to leave the house (as difficult as it is much of the time), and to share weekends like this with folks, whenever i can. It means a lot to me. Thinking about these times keeps me afloat in the midst of loneliness. For anyone who i spent any amount of time with and your name is not here, i apologize. Just know you mean a lot as well.

Thank you.