It’s a sensation unlike any other. Primordial in the way it overcomes and envelopes you; individual in its invocation of emotion, yet communal in its context. It’s physical in the way it stirs you, yet mental in the way it makes your mind race through memory and anecdote. It’s not fear, nor excitement; it’s not quite anxiety, nor happiness. It is truly unique. It’s a sort of recognition; a recognition of greatness. The sensation and anticipation that you are about to witness something great in front of your very eyes.
The opening lick of James Hetfield’s guitar. The quiet tapping of Lars Ulrich on the high-hat. Fifty-five thousand people rise to their feet as a steady roar fills the stadium. The rhythm builds as Kirk Hammett’s electric lead comes in.
Exit light; enter night.