Symphony Bends Under Weight of Metallica
Orchestra plays second fiddle to rock band
Neva Chonin, Chronicle Staff Critic
Friday, April 23, 1999
©1999 San Francisco Chronicle
URL:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/1999/04/23/DD17279.DTL&type=music
Two antithetical genres mixed well at the concert pairing the hard rock band Metallica
with the San Francisco Symphony. Maybe too well, in fact.
The first of two highly anticipated shows was not, as fans from both sides of the
musical divide had hoped, a dialogue between orchestra and band. Nor was it, as
critics predicted, a dissonant clash of titans.
Instead, Wednesday's two-hour-plus performance at the Berkeley Community Theater was
simply a melting pot in which the nuances of more than 100 instruments -- violins,
violas, cellos, oboes, trumpets, kettle drums, chimes and one unfortunate harp -- were
largely reduced to a lush, not always audible musical backdrop for a very loud, very
good Metallica concert.
That was certainly no dire disappointment for the thousands of cheering Metallica fans
packing the house. But it was a pity nonetheless, considering the time and toil
conductor-composer Michael Kamen and the members of the band invested in this project.
In preparation, they met in cities all over the world, retooling 18 Metallica classics
and two new songs, ``No Leaf Clover'' and ``Human,'' for a symphonic orchestra.
On Wednesday, those plans were sabotaged not by lack of style or enthusiasm but by
volume. Try as it might, the orchestra simply could not make itself heard over the
thunder of heavy rock instrumentation.
The evening began promisingly with a luxuriant string intro to Metallica's 15-minute
instrumental opus, ``Call of Ktulu.'' As each band member made his way onstage, the
orchestra gradually built into a galloping rhythm that would have been right at home
on an Ennio Morricone soundtrack.
By the time guitarist Kirk Hammett slid into his first solo of the night, the
orchestra's music stands were glowing a fluorescent white, liquid patterns were
wriggling across the overhead screen and the sounds from the stage had built to a
crescendo.
After a pure metal version of ``Master of Puppets,'' Metallica singer-guitarist James
Hetfield hailed the crowd. ``Ever hear the one about the heavy rock band that wanted
to play with the symphony?'' he asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat. ``You're f--
looking at it, man.'' After exhorting everyone to have a good time, he introduced the
next song: ``We usually call this one `Of Wolf and Man,' but tonight we're calling it
`Of Wolfgang and Man.' ''
We'll never know what Mozart would have made of the ensuing duel of wailing guitars
and horns, but the crowd loved it. The orchestra musicians looked bemused,
particularly when the song veered into one of the evening's more spirited call-and-
response chants, complete with wolfish howls. It was about this time that a number of
those in the classical-music fan minority, including director Francis Ford Coppola,
chose to head for the exit.
Behavioral differences between the classical and rock schools weren't limited to the
audience. The members of Metallica and the Symphony presented an amusing portrait in
opposites: While the rock band demonstrated its love of live music in roars and
whoops, the tiers of classical musicians retained their elegant poker faces. In the
world of Beethoven and Handel, it's the music that's the star.
Still, some among the orchestra couldn't help but be swept up in the friendly
looniness. One wag in the brass section returned the crowd's two-fingered salutes with
his own. Another pumped the air with his horn. The crowd cheered them on.
Metallica members often wandered through the tiers as they played, getting into the
orchestral groove. Bassist Jason Newsted even jammed beside the harpist.
Kamen, with his unruly mane and sleek tuxedo, acted as much like a rock star as a
classical conductor -- impressive, considering the monumental task of coordinating so
many disparate elements. He gave band members the thumbs-up and punched the air with
his fist when a section went well.
But all the high spirits couldn't change the fact that the orchestra was largely
reduced to atmospherics for the concert's stars. Of the 20- song repertoire, only a
handful capi talized on the diversity of instruments and talent onstage.
``Hero of the Day'' featured beautiful interplay between Hetfield's voice and the
string section; ``Devil Dance'' found the brass instruments rallying to nearly drown
out Lars Ulrich's drums during the swaggering intro. ``The Memory Remains'' juxtaposed
heavy rock with a series of nonelectric interludes, in which the orchestra lavishly
mimicked the song's organ-grinder motif.
But mostly the orchestra heaved and toiled to little discernible effect, particularly
on hard-rocking songs such as ``Fuel'' and ``Enter Sandman'' and the speed-metal
finale ``Battery.''
``I've often wondered if something magical would happen if Me tallica dressed up,''
Hetfield announced shortly before the evening's intermission. ``Well, we're getting
our nice clothes sweaty. Our parents would be proud.''
That about summed up the night. Long on sweat and fun, but something short of magic.
