Yet again, Bruce and I were in the awkward position of deciding whether to be conveyors of information. We were dying to know whether Jason had in fact wanted to rejoin Metallica, but we couldn’t ask him without betraying the trust of the person, very close to Jason, who had given Metallica that message. We also weren’t sure if we should report back to Metallica about these Voivod rumors. As documentary filmmakers, it wasn’t really our place to pass on information between two feuding parties. But as people who (like Phil) had become close enough to Metallica to blur the line between professional and personal, we thought (like Phil) that it would be a good idea for these guys to have one more sit-down, even if we couldn’t be there to capture it. Also, the Voivod rumor seemed really sketchy, so we decided Metallica should know about it. Bruce and I had been in a similar position before with Paradise Lost. In talking to so many people about the murders in West Memphis, we uncovered some information that we felt the presiding judge should know about. We wondered if it was our place to get involved, since we prided ourselves on remaining impartial enough for each side to trust us, but we decided that with the stakes so high, and with the West Memphis 3 facing the death penalty or life in prison, we needed to break our own rules. We shared with the judge the new information we had uncovered.5
As it turned out, Kirk asked Bruce directly how our Jason interview had gone. Bruce told Kirk that Jason was fuming about a trifecta of grievances: the Raiders gig, the meeting cancellation, and the Voivod smear. Jason’s anger about the Raiders show wasn’t news, of course, but his gripe about the last-minute cancellation was met with frustration; “I called Jason to tell him about the press conference before I even called my wife,” James said. As for the Voivod charge, this was a complete mystery. A call was immediately placed to Peter Mensch, the Metallica manager who had allegedly instituted the no-Voivod policy. His reaction was an incredulous snort: “I didn’t even know Jason was in Voivod!”
That final meeting between Metallica and Jason never did happen. Maybe it will someday. Maybe we’ll find out whether Jason really did want to rejoin Metallica or whether Metallica was just wishfully thinking that Jason missed his old life and band enough to return. But back when it should have happened, in the spring of 2003, it was the issue that just couldn’t get resolved.
“I feel like he’s holding us hostage,” Kirk said when he heard about the Voivod rumors and Jason’s unwillingness to meet.
“This is such sandbox shit!” Lars said, growing more agitated. “It’s like when my kid argues with another kid about who gets to play with a light saber.”
“It’s up to him to mend himself,” Kirk continued, “and we’ve given him every opportunity to.”
I almost never interrupt a verité conversation to steer it in a certain direction. That happened maybe half a dozen times during the entire making of this film. But I really felt like everyone was missing the point about Jason, so I said, “But he’s wounded.” I wanted to get a reaction, and boy, did I.
Lars suddenly lost it. “HE FUCKING LEFT THE BAND! HE FUCKING LEFT THE BAND!” He got up and paced the floor. His face was the same mix of anger and astonishment that I’d seen when he confronted James during the “fuck” meeting. His eyes were wide. He looked distraught, like he might hit someone or something. “WHICH PART OF THAT IS FORGOTTEN? PERIOD. EXCLAMATION POINT!” He slashed his index finger through the air in a downward vertical and stabbed an imaginary point, miming an exclamation point. “HOW DID WE TURN INTO THE BAD GUYS? HE LEFT THE FUCKING BAND!” He furiously made the time-out signal with his hands, a favorite of Lars’s when he wants to get his point across. “HE FUCKING LEFT THE FUCKING BAND! JESUS CHRIST!”
He turned and stalked out of the room. He had definitely purged something. For us, it was yet another healthy baby we had to slay.
10/3/02
INT. KITCHEN, HQ RECORDING STUDIO, SAN RAFAEL, CA - DAY
LARS: I got really annoyed at my wife this morning because she woke up really early, and I really needed to sleep.
PHIL: What’s “really early” over there?
LARS: Well, I was sleeping, so I don’t know, but it seemed really early. And so she decided to take the whole day off, as she does more and more frequently, and she decided to take Myles out of school. It’s just like, nobody does anything. Right when I woke up, she was like, “We’re all going to the beach,” and I’m like, “I’ve got to go spend the day at work. I’ve got forty-five minutes. How about you wait to go to the beach until I go to the studio?” No, she wouldn’t have it. So I saw my kids for like six seconds as they were walking out with shovels and pails, going to the beach with Mom, and I was there sitting, and she was all like, “All you do, anyway, when you wake up is just sit there and read the newspaper by yourself.”
PHIL: About yourself or by yourself?
LARS: By myself. So I’m-
KIRK: Well, you can’t read the newspaper with someone!
LARS: So the next forty-five minutes I spent deliberately not reading the newspaper, just so I could use that as ammunition.
PHIL: No, I don’t think you’re using it as ammunition. I think what you’re doing is testing yourself to see if you could, indeed, fill those forty-five minutes.
LARS: I brought the newspaper down here, so I could read it.
PHIL: Right.
LARS: Because there’s so much useless downtime.
PHIL: Exactly, so that’s good. So what did you do with the forty-five minutes then?
LARS: I think I read a magazine instead.
PHIL: You know, reading a magazine versus the daily newspaper is a change, because you can’t be secure about current knowledge. You know when you read a magazine that it’s old stuff, so, therefore, you’re trusting more. It’s more of a trust exercise.
LARS: Right.
PHIL: And reading the daily newspaper, you have to be in control of everything, because you have to find out everything that’s current, in case something dangerous happens.
LARS: Right.
PHIL: So that’s pretty trusting. That was a really good thing, man. Nice work.
LARS: That’s definitely worth your fee today.
PHIL: Right.
LARS: That was my day.
CHAPTER 18
THEIR AIM IS TRUJILLO
Here’s a question I thought I’d get all the time from Monster viewers but which has never come up: Why did Rob Trujillo wear two different shirts to his Metallica audition? It’s true—go back and watch the bass player–auditions section of the film and you’ll notice that Rob seems to go through a wardrobe change. Why would he do that? The answer is that turning dozens of auditions spread over a few months into one segment in a documentary is a real headache.
Monster makes it seem like Metallica dropped everything in a frantic attempt to find a permanent bass player, but the process was actually drawn out over a period of two months in the spring of 2003. In an early cut of the film, we had three long scenes of the initial auditions and the callbacks, which we spread throughout the second half of the film. The overall result was a dinosaur-size thread with no dramatic tension. I suggested that we collapse all the auditions into one nonlinear montage, with the dislocated voices of the band members commenting on the proceedings, a device that David Zieff had been championing for other parts of the film. Doug Abel, another editor on the Monster team, took my idea one step further. It was his idea to edit together different bassists playing “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” It wasn’t until we juxtaposed the various musicians playing the same riffs that it became apparent how much Rob Trujillo blew the others away. That little filigree he puts on the end of the bass riff says it all.
Rob Trujillo in an early rehearsal (Courtesy of Bob Richman)
At our urging, Metallica made a rule that anyone who tried out had to allow us to film the audition. The band’s easy acquiescence to our request shows how much they were used to our presence, and also that they were beginning to realize that they were potentially part of a historic fi
lm in the making. There was also a practical benefit to this rule, though nobody articulated it at the time. Whoever got the job, no matter how seasoned, would be landing the biggest gig of his career. There would always be a camera stuck in his face in public—if not always literally, then definitely figuratively. The extramusical distractions of being in the biggest hard-rock band in the world—“the beast,” in James’s words—would be a constant reality. After twenty years, James was still getting accustomed to the beast. The new guy would have to get used to it fast.
It was great for us that Metallica created a situation where our cameras were not only allowed but actually required. Of course, there was a catch. Every applicant had to agree to perform for the cameras, but Metallica wasn’t comfortable forcing them to sign our release forms.1 We were fine with that arrangement. Our general rule on our films is that we don’t bring out the release until after we’ve filmed somebody. It’s a risk, but we’re always concerned that dealing with the release first introduces a vague atmosphere of distrust and distraction before the camera is even turned on. Celebrities are sometimes a different story—if we’ve jumped through lots of hoops to arrange an interview, we get the release out of the way before filming—but for “normal” people, we prefer to shoot first and ask the legal questions later. We definitely were going to adhere to our rule for the Metallica auditions, because we didn’t want an already nervous applicant to be thrown off or spooked by all the legal jargon of the release.
Most of the applicants were initially wary of being in the film, concerned that if they didn’t get the job they would look bad. Once Bruce and I explained that we weren’t interested in portraying anyone in a bad light, the release would usually be signed. The only one who balked after being filmed was Pepper Keenan of Corrosion of Conformity, who didn’t want his bandmates to find out he was considering a defection to Metallica. (Oddly enough, James, who is a good friend of Pepper’s, knew about his request for anonymity but still mentioned him to journalists as a possible candidate.) Pepper didn’t get the job, which was something of a relief to us, since we couldn’t use his footage. But when James saw a rough cut of Monster, he only requested one change: “This is a historic film, and Pepper should be in it.” We explained that Pepper had declined to sign the release, so James said he would speak with him. Sure enough, Pepper signed.2 (Personally, I got a kick out of including Pepper because way back in 1996, at the Metallica show I went to with Bruce, I’d wound up accidentally buying that C.O.C. T-shirt.) Unfortunately, by the time Pepper’s release was sorted out, it was November ’03 and the film was nearly completed. It was fairly easy to throw him into the bassist montage at the last minute but hard to fit him in anywhere else. We had a lot of great footage of Pepper discussing what kind of person Metallica should hire and why he wasn’t the right person for the job. He was also very candid about his concern that Phil’s therapy could have a negative effect on Metallica’s music, which had always thrived on dysfunction and anger.
I could tell that James, who considers Pepper a good friend, thought it would be fun to have Pepper in the band. It was interesting to see the normally reserved James be so social with Pepper. I think Pepper even stayed at James’s house, the only time I remember anyone crashing with James during the entire time we spent with Metallica. When James was in rehab, Pepper was one of the few people outside of Metallica to visit him. C.O.C.’s—and Pepper’s—combination of punk, metal, and working-class southern sensibility was tailor-made for James. But I think Pepper correctly surmised that he wasn’t the best man for the job. One reason is that he was the applicant with the most obviously lukewarm feelings about joining Metallica when the band clearly needed a fired-up recruit. Another is that although he could more than hold his own on bass, he was more of a guitarist moonlighting as a bass player. But perhaps the best reason not to hire Pepper was the social factor: James so openly bonding with Pepper made me flash on Lars’s admission (which we put in the film) that he felt left out whenever James and Dave Mustaine were together playing their macho chest-beating reindeer games.
Lars, for his part, initially gravitated toward Twiggy Ramirez, formerly of Marilyn Manson’s band (that is, until Rob’s second audition blew Lars’s mind).3 As Pepper complemented James, Twiggy’s black-clad Hollywood rock-star vibe was a nice fit for Lars. If Twiggy were to join Metallica, he and Lars would probably form an alliance that would disrupt the equilibrium of the band in much the way the Pepper-and-James combo would. Like Pepper, Twiggy also decided on his own that he wasn’t a good fit for Metallica, because, as he told Lars, he was “a guy who used to wear a dress.” Lars seemed a little hurt that Twiggy took himself out of the running (“It bugs me when the choice is taken away from me,” he said later), but James seemed to understand intuitively the potential problem Pepper’s presence might create for Metallica. It was interesting to watch James figure out that his good friend was probably not the best choice, a realization I’m not sure the “old” James would have so readily accepted.
Who, then? Although every musician who tried out could have competently filled the bass spot, each had a flaw—in his musicianship or personality—that disqualified him. Phil aided in the evaluation of the latter by conducting lengthy interviews with each applicant. Most of the bass players were noticeably surprised by Phil’s presence and the active role he took in evaluating them. Watching from the sidelines, I couldn’t help wondering if the Q Prime managers had any idea how much Phil was part of the selection process, and what they would think if they did.
It’s fitting that Kirk, the natural mediator, was the earliest advocate for Rob Trujillo. Metallica had crossed paths with him on tour several times over the years, so everyone knew he was a great bass player, but Kirk had recently run into Rob at the beach, where they bonded over their mutual love of surfing. Kirk was impressed by Rob’s overall demeanor and recommended him to the others. Rob was actually the first person Metallica auditioned, but it wasn’t until the callback phase that the band realized just how musically dominant he was. He had a distinctive thick sound that jumped out of songs like “Battery” and “Whiplash.” “You just make us sound better,” James told him. Rob clearly had a small ego and wouldn’t be put off by James and Lars occasionally exercising their authority. As befit the new “democratic” Metallica, Rob also clearly had the confidence to make his presence known when the time was right. There was something about his manner that made all three guys in Metallica feel comfortable around him. He seemed like someone who would bring everyone together rather than foster divisive alliances. As James says in Monster, the fact that Metallica realized their need for such a person and recognized him in Rob was a sign that all the therapy was working.
It’s difficult to get a sense from Monster how exhaustive these auditions were. Like everything else this perfectionist band does, Metallica (and Phil) made the process as painstakingly thorough as possible.
Rob Trujillo joined Metallica with so little time before they went on the road that he wrote the first letter of each song lyric on his forearm in order to remember everything. (Courtesy of Joe Berlinger)
Rob’s first meeting with Metallica, before he’d even played a note, took place on a morning in February. There was the usual clubhouse atmosphere at HQ that morning. Kirk had even whipped up a batch of pancakes. When Rob walked in around eleven, there was a palpable feeling that he belonged there, something Kirk noticed immediately
“Sit down,” Lars urged Rob. “You want some food, some coffee or tea?”
“Actually, a tea would be good.”
Kirk looked up and flashed an incredulous smile at Lars. “I’ve never seen you make a cup of tea for Jason, ever.”
The room suddenly grew quiet. “Wow,” Rob finally said, clearly unsure of how to react.
“I’m trying to remedy my mistakes from the past,” Lars said, heading for the stove. (He was a long way from tricking Jason into eating a mouthful of wasabi.)
Kirk quickly turned the discussion tow
ard surfing. Rob had just gotten back from a trip to Tahiti, so they compared the waves in Hawaii and Tahiti. There was more small talk, Chinese food was ordered, and James got down to business. Everyone, including Phil, sat down at the table.
“So, we’re thinking about bass players finally,” James said.
Rob nodded. “Getting the ball rolling, huh?”
Meeting with Rob on the first day of auditions with Lars’s son, Myles, looking on. Each of the bass player candidates met with Phil and the band before playing a single note. (Courtesy of Bob Richman)
“Yeah, we’ve been working for a long time, we’re jamming, and we want to go out and tour in the summer. There’s all this stuff we want to do, but how are we gonna do it, you know?”
Rob looked very serious. “Right, right, right …”
“We’re going to need a fourth member. It’s been in the back of our mind for a long time, and yeah, now is the time. So, you know, I don’t know how you’re feeling here …”
“It’s an honor, let me just say that,” Rob said, his voice low and smooth. “It’s an honor to be here right now.”
Metallica: This Monster Lives Page 25