When Metallica announced their residency at the Sphere, one of my personal favorite venues, I was psyched to discover that my Halloween plans had effectively made themselves. Las Vegas? The Sphere? Metallica? On Halloween? It is difficult to imagine a more compelling combination.
My previous experiences seeing Metallica had already set an exceptionally high standard. The last time I saw the band was from the “Snake Pit” at SoFi Stadium in 2024, an experience that remains, without exaggeration, the most fun I’ve ever had at a concert. Years earlier, a Metallica show happened to coincide with my high school prom; I trust you can deduce how that particular scheduling conflict was resolved. Now that performance, however, holds a distinction all its own: the loudest concert I have ever attended. This is no small feat considering my rather generous tolerance for, and general appreciation of, excessive volume as a guitar player myself.
Needless to say, with those experiences serving as a point of reference, my expectations for the Sphere were, well, considerable. To say I was eager would be something of an understatement.
Making my way through the Venetian toward the Sphere and eventually approaching security, my preliminary inventory revealed a rather conspicuous lack of Halloween costumes. As the security guard conducted her routine screening, I couldn’t resist consulting a seasoned professional: “What’s with the lack of costumes?” Her response was succinct: “I know! It’s weak.” I had to laugh.
Given the apparent shortage of spirit, those who did embrace the occasion practically found themselves beneath a white-hot spotlight. Among the more unconventional sightings were a crocheted Pikachu ski mask and none other than KFC royalty, Colonel Sanders! I opted to don my Hogwarts robes in proud representation of the ever-ambitious house: Slytherin. Naturally, music legends were well represented, with “appearances” by Lemmy, Elvis, members of KISS and rock’s favorite couple, Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne.
Roughly 20 percent of attendees dressed for Halloween, while the remaining 80 percent proudly repped the band of the hour. A select few, however, managed to reconcile the two. The Pope, Jesus Christ and the North Pole’s own Santa Claus all sported Metallica shirts. What’s not to love?
Upon entering the venue, you are greeted by a seemingly infinite display of Metallica fan flags, towering overhead and stretching into oblivion. The scale is remarkable, creating an atmosphere that feels like a collective homecoming for the Metallica Family. Once AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ’n’ Roll)” begins playing, you know it’s go time. The visuals transition from the flags to photographs of fans at previous shows, some alongside the band members themselves. The continued acknowledgment of the community that has sustained Metallica throughout their career is genuinely touching.
The lights go dark, and the Sphere takes the audience on a visual journey, culminating in an encounter with Doris, otherwise known as Lady Justice. Darkness falls once again and the unmistakable opening riff of “Blackened” cuts through the air. The crowd erupts with everyone on their feet.
Amid the stir, one question occupied my thoughts: Would the band be in costume? Unfortunately, it was not in the cards this year. Nevertheless, I must bestow upon Kirk Hammett the “Best Dressed” award for his unique metallic green leather jacket and black jeans with diamonds down the sides. Hell yeah, Kirk.
Costumes aside, the energy was nothing short of extraordinary. Fists pumping in unison, thousands of voices delivering every lyric with a palpable sense of power and solidarity. As “Blackened” drew to a close, James Hetfield offered a few simple words that perfectly encapsulated the relationship between the band and its audience before launching into “Fuel”: “We are Metallica, and so are you.”
At this point, I found myself confronting a rather baffling reality: there was no pit. What kind of Metallica show doesn’t have a pit? Surely, this must be a circumstance beyond the concertgoers’ control. It is the only reasonable explanation!
This bizarre absence aside, the musicianship and overall performance was nothing short of remarkable. Hammett navigated blistering solos with an absurd degree of precision and technical cleanliness, bordering on ridiculous. James Hetfield connected with the audience through an expressive stage presence, utilizing microphones positioned around the circular stage to ensure no section of the crowd felt neglected. Lars Ulrich, meanwhile, parked at the front of the stage, engaged through exaggerated facial expressions and enthusiastically mouthing along to lyrics. At times, it felt like a humorous exchange, with Lars determined to get the crowd to match his energy. The guy is a character! Then there’s Rob Trujillo. An absolute monster, holding down the fort, delivering outrageous parts with a nonchalant demeanor.
Turning my attention back to the audience, I was struck by another rather remarkable observation. This was, without question, the fewest phones I had ever seen at a concert. An astonishing phenomenon in an era governed by the compulsion to document, well, everything.
Moving along, I was particularly thrilled to hear one of my personal favorites, “Leper Messiah,” before Hetfield delivered his first proper address. “We dressed up as an old rock band,” he joked, before communicating his gratitude to those who had traveled, spent their hard earned money and made the effort to share the evening with them. This recurring acknowledgment of the Metallica Family, and the band’s genuine appreciation for its loyalty, became one of the night’s defining themes.
The setlist featured a handful of rarities, including “Devil’s Dance” and “Of Wolf and Man,” both met with an audience that knew every word. Call-and-response required no instruction; the exchange between band and crowd was entirely intuitive, a demonstration of connection cultivated over decades.
Despite all the evening’s musical highlights, I would argue that the Sphere’s visual capabilities were not utilized to their fullest potential. The most impactful exception came during “The Call of Ktulu.” Ktulu emerged from the water, towering over the crowd before making its way toward the Las Vegas Strip amid a torrential downpour. Fighter planes attempted to contain the creature, ultimately to no avail, as Ktulu soared into the night sky. The reaction was extraordinary, with even Hetfield transfixed, craning his neck to take in the spectacle. Naturally, the short was synchronized with the music, making for a completely immersive experience.
The band closed out the show with five consecutive hits. The crowd transitioned from individual headbanging during “Hardwired” to groups of friends throwing their arms around one another’s shoulders for “Whiskey in the Jar.” We were then met with “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” a true classic that had the entire audience jumping like buffoons, myself included.
“One” carried us into the night’s final track, “Enter Sandman.” Hetfield’s delivery during the bridge of “Enter Sandman” is a testament to his ability as a storyteller, bringing the lyrics to life with convincing character. The evening concluded with a massive moon bearing Metallica’s signature “M,” accompanied by a few simple parting words from Hetfield: “Metallica loves you.”
Metallica’s residency at the Sphere is not about the Sphere itself, but rather the musicianship and enduring relationship between the band and the Metallica Family. They were undeniably playing live, forgoing a cushion to conceal the occasional mistake ultimately lending the performance a refreshingly human quality that feels increasingly rare in today’s concert landscape. While the Halloween spirit was admittedly lacking, I will humbly settle for Trujillo’’s ginger mullet wig and a rendition of “The Addams Family” theme, courtesy of Trujillo and Hammett.
These are four musicians who appeared not merely comfortable onstage, but sincerely amped to be there, even 45 f’n years later.
See Metallica live HERE.
