Metallica

Think of an intimate, fan-club-only album launch party, and you might picture a cramped club with sweat raining off the low ceiling on to the lucky few. Not so with Metallica, 27-year-old Danish-Californian rock monoliths. Their fan club easily fills the O2 Arena. When the band arrive on stage, 20,000 people begin roaring and barely let up for two hours.

By this gargantuan band's touring standards, this gig is actually a radically scaled-back affair. Billed as a party in honour of the release of their No 1 album Death Magnetic, this show has no stage set, save a spine of amps; few theatrics, no video screens, or any of the pyrotechnics that traditionally light up Metallica shows. When I saw them at Earls Court in 1996, by contrast, stunt men on fire ran amok and the stage pretended to collapse. Tonight, singing guitarist James Hetfield struts about on the amps; lead guitarist Kirk Hammett does too. That's about it. When, midway through a closing 'Seek and Destroy', the band unleash their only bit of stagecraft - dozens of giant black Metallica beach balls - the delight is universal.

Metallica have done many fan-club shows before, but this one feels like a particularly chummy love-in at a pivotal time for the band. It is the culmination of a charm offensive aimed at changing the widespread (and rather accurate) view of Metallica as internet-hating rich men lashing out at a changing world.

In 2000, the band sued Napster, contributing to the site's downfall and alienating a generation of file-sharing fans. A string of relatively under-par albums (Load, ReLoad, S&M) added to the band's woes. A move towards transparency nearly backfired when the documentary Some Kind of Monster showed the warring metallers undergoing group therapy while making their least-loved album, St Anger.

Metallica are desperate not to be seen as control freaks, misers and bullies any more, and so Death Magnetic has come trumpeted by a fly-on-the-wall promotional website; and every track is available to download as part of Guitar Hero III, the video game which takes air guitar to new virtual heights. Their mission to rekindle favour stops just short of personal band lap dances and free ice cream.

They do give away a hell of a lot of guitar picks, mind. To make the front row as generous as possible, the band play in the round tonight, with eight microphones strategically positioned to allow Hetfield to commune with his acolytes at every point of the compass. Hammett and bassist Robert Trujillo are also free-ranging, while drummer Lars Ulrich's kit revolves from north to south throughout the set, providing us with the rarely seen view of a drummer's backside. Ulrich wanders around almost as much as he sits, spitting water on grateful fans.

The 17-song set borrows a reasonable five songs from their new album, alongside a generous dose of older, thrashier songs. Lightweight fans such as myself definitely miss their greatest hit, 'Enter Sandman', but otherwise, the pummelling stays just on the right side of heavy, and the ballads don't take up too much valuable riffing time.

There aren't usually many innovations at a Metallica gig, but it is refreshing to hear an audible bass on 'The End of the Line'. 'Cyanide', meanwhile, sounds as good live as it did at the Death Magnetic album playback. As well as beating Scots hopefuls Glasvegas to the No 1 spot, Death Magnetic has been well-received critically, suggesting Metallica's hard work (and back-to-basics approach) has reaped dividends. Later in the set, 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' and 'Master of Puppets' are blasts from the past whose aggression remains evergreen.

For all this, fans part with just £5, the proceeds of which go to the Youth Music charity. The band's charm offensive even stretches to Hetfield, so often a brooding presence. He may be a strapping figure covered in tattoos, but when he opens his mouth, the statuesque former alcoholic is surprisingly Californian and easy-going. 'Put your phones away, man,' he cajoles amiably. 'Putting a two-minute video of Metallica on YouTube isn't going to make you famous. Just enjoy the show.'

When, at the end, the band hang around for a quarter of an hour, distributing drumsticks and guitar picks, the warmth in the arena is convincing. It is common form for bands to thank their fans volubly, but there is a new humility in this band's attitude that suggests that while these metal overlords broadcast at immense volumes, they can listen, too.