Breaking Down the Doors: Headbanging in the 80s

While there were certainly other metal shows in Saskatoon and the province of Saskatchewan before, December 15, 1986 is “ground zero” for a few headbangers of a certain age: the day Metallica stormed the Saskatoon Arena for their first of six appearances in the Bridge City.  I, a grade nine student from North Battleford, and my buddy Sean were about to experience the genre of thrash and the future of metal in the 80s for the first time.

Advertisement for Metallica’s first Saskatoon concert. Saskatoon Star Phoenix, November 24, 1986. Courtesy of Terry Hoknes.

Milling around the front of the arena before the show were a small but happy congregation of metalheads dressed in the teenage rivethead uniform of the day, denim and leather.  For me and most others on a budget, it was denim only, though.  My tight Levis jeans matched my undersized Levis jacket. Finishing off the de rigueur uniform, a black concert shirt covered every back. 

I, myself, sported a black Kiss shirt from the Animalize tour that had stopped by the Agridome a couple of years earlier.  My mom had taken me to see Kiss and she stood with my little brother at the back of the Agridome while they played.  This time, I was with my friend who convinced his mother to drop us off.

Ready to rock in 1987! Photo courtesy of author.

Smoke, mostly cigarette but also other mysterious substances my grade nine mind couldn’t yet identify, worked to shield us teens from the possibility that we may be ‘uncool’.  Small amounts of alcohol were present but ticket holders, in general, were in control. I stood idly by, too obedient of my teacher’s health lessons to want to discover what effect these substances might have. Frequent trips to the nearby Continental Hotel were made to warm up and use the lobby bathroom.

I remember everyone being underdressed for the December weather, regretting I left my Sun Ice winter jacket in the car, and feeling like this was a ‘tough crowd’ of mostly older teenagers who would’ve found an easy target if I was to be so bold as to dress for the weather.  I was one of the younger attendees and this was a dangerous place in the big city for someone schooling in North Battleford. 

My apprehension was borne out when the crowd began surging on the sidewalk. Rumour was that a car was driving past the crowd and shooting into it with a pellet gun or air rifle. The news started in a slow wave of whispering and jostling. In short order, the whisper and wave became a panic. Those older and stronger managed to break the locks and open the Arena’s main doors, probably the same doors and locks installed in 1937. 

I entered the Arena without my feet touching the ground. The stampede was so fast and tightly packed, I distinctly recall being lifted and suspended off the ground as we moved en masse into the lobby and onto the cement playing surface. Sean and I grinned as we realized that we made it in without being trampled to death and that everyone in the arena, about 900 of us, didn’t even get our $16.50 tickets checked.

The jubilation, however, was short-lived as the snarky, ancient (by our youthful standards) security guards soon ushered us back outside.  I can remember feeling amazement that the tough and rebellious crowd had listened to their elders so readily as we dutifully made our way out the lobby, onto the sidewalk, and calmly returned to have our tickets ripped in half at the door.  As an obvious purposeful slight (according to my barely teenage mind), the vengeful guard never even gave me the section of the ticket with the word “Metallica” on it.  Instead, I owned a blue card stock bookmark with no identifying writing for both my proof of payment and as a souvenir.

We navigated the entrance to the show and were able to relax in the relative heat of the old arena and decide how much I wanted to use the washroom, a nerve-wracking decision amongst the crowd I found myself in. Other contemplations followed as I waited for the show to begin: How was it that the biggest band in my world drew so few people in this big city?  Even less than Kiss! Was that asbestos on the roof? And, most importantly for those in attendence, which concert shirt should I buy with my $20? (You must have a concert shirt to wear the first school day back.) I decided on a black one as metal bands follow the ‘Henry Ford’ model of colour choices.

Tour shirt. Photo courtesy of author.

Having solved many of the most important questions of the moment, we were ready for the show to begin. Metal Church, a much-hyped bunch of thrashers, hit the stage as openers. At the time, they were thought of as contenders and peers of Metallica. They also had the advantage of a frontman, David Wayne, who added an operatic metal voice that more mainstream metal bands like Iron Maiden and Judas Priest had.  When listening back to their current album at the time, “The Dark”, it’s evident they had much more in common with these more traditional metal bands, especially with song tempo, than with Metallica. The crowd was appreciative but restless for the mighty Metallica to take the stage.

Having cancelled their appearance at the Saskatchewan Arts Centre in Regina in favour of a Brandon, Manitoba gig, Metallica hit Saskatoon with their song, “Battery”, to begin the new metal era in Saskatchewan. I was a huge fan and knew all their three records. Live, that night, though, I often had difficulty making out songs until they were well into them, such was the speed of the band and poor acoustics of the old Arena. Being new to concerts and certainly to this type of speed metal, my ear also had to adjust to the onslaught. As was standard then, I don’t remember anyone in the crowd wearing hearing protection. A fact I’m sure many, myself included, paid for over the next couple days. Ringing of the ears was almost a badge of honour back then, proof you actually attended the show.

The stage and band reflected their ‘up and coming’ status: a small drum riser on three steps that filled the stage width, large, fabric crosses on each side of the drums based on the “Master of Puppets” record cover, “Master of Puppets” cover backdrop, and a backline of amps. Monitors set near feedback lined the front of the stage and the few lights they had exhibited a Tyndal Effect from all the smoke-filled air.  This was, after all, back in the days when smoking in a building was the rule and age limits for cigarettes were more guidelines than laws.

Their setlist was the same as Winnipeg, Brandon and the entire Canadian tour, although in the pre-internet age this was a hardly known fact.  Each song seemed specifically selected according to how the band felt at that particular moment on the stage in Saskatoon.

To more educated fans or adults, I’m sure one could have pointed out that Lar’s drumming wasn’t as technical as it was enthusiastic, James barked more than sung, or that Kirk’s soloing defaulted to speedy widdling in lieu of more thoughtful and creative lines.  We, the teenage headbangers, would have protested that Metallica consisted of the top of the heap at each position and we would never be swayed.  The bass player? We barely knew his name. Jason Newsted had only just gotten the job after the unfortunate, shocking death of Cliff Burton scarcely two months earlier. When introduced to the fans of Saskatoon, we gave Jason a hearty cheer of support, perhaps simply relieved the band would persevere.

Back then in 1986, Metallica was a band that worked hard to not separate themselves from their fans. Although there were intense frowns (not from Kirk) as the band played their ferocious tunes, between songs James and Lars casually talked to the fans while Kirk mulled around the sides of the stage waving and smiling. There were no obvious production cues evident like in later tours. The set seemed loose and somewhat casual, like a great band jamming in the basement.

Of particular note for me, even after so much time has passed, is the heaviness of the riff on “The Thing That Should Not Be”. So heavy and dark my stomach, accustomed to much lighter songs, felt uneasy.  I can also recall my shock and unease while the crowd shouted “Die!” repeatedly during the breakdown to “Creeping Death”. This was back in the days of the faux satanic metal bands like Venom and Celtic Frost.  In the pre-internet age, it seemed genuinely scary and risky to be into these bands. The “Die!” sing-along seemed a little too close for comfort to me, although the feeling was obviously not shared. Of course, today any Metallica fan looks forward to this part of the show as the arena or stadium shouts “Die!”. It’s become one of the ‘must do’ rituals of a Metallica concert.

After the show, my grade nine self wanted nothing more than to meet the coolest dudes on the planet. So how to accomplish this? Simple, just walk from the floor to the stands and along the aisles until you get beside the stage and move down. This plan had obviously been tried before because Sean and I were intercepted by a patient attendant when we got too close.

But wait! Kirk Hammet saw us and waved to us! We skipped down close to the stage, under the watchful eye of the patient attendant, so Kirk could give us a youthful and polite “Hello!” and a green, medium gauge guitar pick, one each, with the word “Metallica” on it. I still have mine and I am still transported back to that meeting when I look at it.

The guitar pick given to the author by Kirk Hammett at the Saskatoon Arena.

The years have passed, but this show is the beginning of Saskatchewan metal, at least for me and probably many who were there. The quality and ferocity of Metallica has been proven many times through the years and is evidenced on that tour by the many live shows that were recorded, one of which, the Winnipeg show, is available on vinyl at least as a bootleg. The band has remained loyal to their great following in Saskatchewan, and Metallica fans of the province can feel confident they’ll make a nearby stop in future tours.

Rob Baranuik.

ROB BARANUIK is a lifelong fan of heavy metal and hard rock. He was born in Prince Albert and has since lived in every corner of Saskatchewan. He graduated in North Battleford and came to the University of Saskatchewan in the early 1990s. He currently lives and works in Saskatoon. Click here for Rob’s Saskatchewan-themed original musical hi-jinx, stories and Saskie folk fun.

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