Stumbling the Walk

The Night I Was The Master

By Chris La Tray, 12-12-08

For my money, Ross Halfin is the ultimate rock photographer. I knew his name long before I knew who he was, as he has shot all the hard rock greats: The Who, Zeppelin, Aerosmith, KISS, Motorhead. I knew of him mostly because his name was all over some of the great records I grew up with from bands like Iron Maiden and Metallica, as well as other NWOBHM (that’s “New Wave of British Heavy Metal”) bands like Saxon, Venom, and early Def Leppard. To me he was always The Man, though he generally refers to himself (via his irascible online diary) as The Master.

I mention Mr. Halfin because I was thinking of him, and his profession, as I was led by flashlight to “the pit” for my first experience as a real rock photographer.

When I heard that Nine Inch Nails was coming to Missoula, I thought it was cool that a band of that stature would play here, but the ticket price was greater than my real interest in seeing them. I have always liked the songs I’ve heard, and I am certainly aware of their place in history as a forerunner of a much-copied style of music, but I was never a fan. Nonetheless, when the opportunity came to go for free, and be given a photo pass as well, I jumped at the chance.

One of the more entertaining aspects of Halfin’s diary are the descriptions of the smarmy elements of the music business he has to curse his way through; power mad PR and mid-level management types, prima donna rock stars and the sycophants who surround them, and the oddly counter-productive rules they pad themselves with. The man suffers no fools, and it makes for great reading. As a result, I had some idea of what to expect, and a slight case of nerves. Just tracking down the tickets and photo passes was a minor exercise in patience, as I was directed from will call to another part of the venue where I was treated with rather irritably by a woman much more interested in reading a fashion magazine than helping me. The quest ended up back at the original window I had visited in the first place, where things were finally sorted out and my tickets were in hand. It was a relief, because if there is one thing I’ve learned when it comes to getting into rock shows, it is this: having verbal confirmation of being “on the list” is often contrary to the reality once you actually arrive!

The tickets came with a note to meet NIN’s PR person in front of the box office at 9 PM where I would receive my photo pass. It also came with a form to be filled out to identify who I am, who I am working for, and basically stated that I could not sell any of the photos I took to anyone but the publication I listed without permission from Nine Inch Nails. As I filled it out, I wondered if Ross would stand for this (he wouldn’t).

At 9 PM sharp I was waiting in front of the box office with one other photographer (a guy from Spokane, WA, shooting for one of their radio stations) and a kid who had won a contest or something from a local radio station. At 9:15 the PR person finally arrived; her first words were, “Are you all there is?” Welcome to Missoula, ma’am. She gathered our forms (without looking at them), then shared with us the rules of the evening.

We would be allowed in “the pit” – the area between the front of the stage and the barricade that holds the screaming fans at bay – for three songs. I anticipated this; it is another industry standard that perturbs Halfin and a requirement he either gets to ignore or he doesn’t do the shoot. This rule is the result of a requirement originally instituted by the band Rush because they didn’t like the distractions of flashes going off for the entire show; it has since been adopted by pretty much everyone (legend has it that D’arcy, the bass player for Smashing Pumpkins, would not allow photographers beyond a certain strip of tape at the front of the stage, because she only wanted to be shot from one side). In addition, we would not be allowed to use a flash. We were informed that the NIN show is a huge production, with techs taking stuff on and off the stage from the pit, and that items could come flying through the air unexpectedly, both from the stage (mic stands, for example) and from the crowd (bodies, primarily). No big deal, I’ve been up front at many a rock show – I was ready.

As the music started that announced the big intro to the band hitting the stage, we were led around to the backstage area. I was somewhat bummed to miss the introduction; we were going to be shooting songs 3 – 5. When we came up to stage right in the dark wings, Nine Inch Nails were in full roar. My biggest surprise of the night was how quiet it was back there. With the band members all using ear monitors, the sound on stage was surprisingly subdued. I could hear the drums acoustically from about 50 feet away, and we could carry on a conversation quite easily. Frankly, it didn’t feel that rock to me.

With one song to go we were led right up to the edge of the pit. The security guys closest to us eyed us suspiciously, and some of the fans up front looked at us with gazes that said, “Hey, why do you get to be there?” When the lights went out after the second song, we were unleashed into the pit.

The next 15 minutes or so were unlike any kind of rock experience I’ve had, for a number of reasons. Though I don’t consider myself a huge fan of the band, it was still cool to be in touching distance of a rock star (or anti-star, really) like Trent Reznor. It was definitely much more rock in the pit, as the band had small PA stacks arranged across the front to blast the ears of the throng squashed against the barricade. What struck me was being in the middle space of the band/fan energy. I’ve been up front before as part of a crowd experiencing a live show from a beloved band; I have also been on stage in front of enthusiastic fans. I had never been in the middle of those two waves of energy going back and forth, and it was surprisingly exhilarating. It was uplifting to be part of it, but separate . . . and also doing a job at the same time.

I’m no photographer and, regrettably, I don’t have even borderline professional gear. But I took what I was doing seriously because I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to get some cool pictures. The adrenaline rush as I worked the front of the stage was thrilling. Trying to capture each band member in key moments, trying to keep up with the fury of activity, as well as stay out of the way of the techs working on behalf of the band, was an exercise in extreme concentration. It became very obvious that, like any art form, rock photography is really about the exciting process of making it happen – the pictures are just the result of all the efforts you make before the image hits your eyes. The technical aspects of using the camera – which I am utterly ignorant of – will only get you so far. It’s the sweat you put into it, and the patience to be in position to anticipate just the right moment, that makes the magic happen.

All too soon it was over and I was headed back to my seat. The show was phenomenal; one of the best-produced rock shows I’ve ever seen with different screens and lighting effects being moved in and out of the production, the tightness of the band, and the enthusiasm of the crowd. As my wife, Julia, and I discussed afterwards, it was really an amazing testimony to creativity. Not just the music, but the association of colors and effects and different moods and dynamics to make the performance a unique experience. It was very inspirational, which was a feeling I did not expect to take away from the show.

Ross Halfin can rest easy, as I won’t be stealing work from him in the foreseeable future. Out of a total of 200+ shots I took, both from the pit and from my seat in the venue, I think I pulled 28 to share with other people, and not all of those are even particularly good. It was a great time and a hell of an experience I won’t soon forget.

To see more pictures and commentary, check out the Stumbling the Walk blog about the show!

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