Nuclear War Now! Festival Volume One
January 8 2010 at 08:36:34 PM When I first got the e-mail from YK Insulter inviting Villains to play a festival in Germany, I nearly fell out of my chair. We'd played out of town, out of state, but never outside the country, nor across the pond. It would keep with our gig tradition of playing only towns that start with “B” – Brooklyn, Boston, Baltimore and Berlin. From that moment forward the credo was simply, "Berlin, Moe." Whilst putting the finishing touches on the "Getting Crazy" 7", Angus from Fingernails had cajoled us over the phone, “We go to Germany. We Melt Everything !” Now we would have the chance. The banged out rehearsals to break in new guy, Ed, commenced. Right away his aptitude, studiousness and cavernously delayed leads impressed us all. Atomic Powerplant Jokes flowed. Laughs got louder. Passports in hand, flights booked, we did local gigs with Ed and sometimes with Eddie Spaghetti, but that's another story for another time. THURSDAY THE 12th No food and no sleep on shitty EU to EU flight. Arrive in Germany in a haze. We “jump the turnstile” by default – as we would find out a day later – by accidentally not purchasing tickets for the BAHN-WAY. The Hostel itself tucked into a cobblestone path in East Berlin's crumbly, crusty, Vans-wearing, be-dreadlocked Friedrichshain district. A U-shaped dormitory painted bright orange and blue is staffed with cute young English speaking frauleins blasting Foo Fighters and directing the legions to towels and rooms.  Alcohol dreams are blooming in the courtyard with members of Blasphemy, Black Witchery and Ignivomous. Jamie Midnight shows up, Yosuke, Helmkamp, etc. Shitty boombox blasts NekroGoat MP3s in the midday sun. As lo-fi as it gets. Mellow, even friendly vibe prevails. The coolest dude was Chris Volcano from Ignivomous. He was so excited to talk to fellow metalheads from lands faraway. “I'll talk to anyone: I don't care, I don't have any ego.” Then he proceddded to tell me how he thought it would be a good idea to get some white powder over the weekend. I said, “Yeah, that's a killer idea ! How do you intend to go about it?” He said, “Snort it up my nose !” I was, like, “Yeah – but where do you get it? I don't know the ropes around here.” Unfazed, he retorted, “I wanna have a con-snort-ium this weekend.” RIGHT ON, BRO ! A doner kebab settles me and keeps me from passing out. A few more beers and cigarettes. A dash of some Scotch from Jael Ignivomous and I cruise into the night proving that my sense of direction on this continent ain’t so good. Charging hard in the wrong direction for several kilometers, and without a working Euro-phone, it takes me ages to meet up with my friend. Oh yeah, they serve beer in 16 oz. plastic bottles here. Bewilderingly, it makes the beer taste like plastic. Either way, it's 100% legal to drink beer on the street, but I still keep it under my jacket. FRIDAY THE 13TH Back at Metal Hostel, things are mellow, but still with constant drinking. Time to go to the club for the first day of the gathering of the fucking unholy legions of endless patches and alcohol. Saddling up on hoof, we walk to the venue. Ed fucks up on some Orange Juice that turns out to be dogshit juice. He shares an actual OJ with Viv. We all get mini-Jagermeisters and put 'em in our coats.  Walk in on Blasphemophager. Drummer has shades. Guitar player is having trouble with his gasmask. Bass/vocals guy is right outta SCTV. Round bald head, grumpy frown, chains, shades. Drummer removes shades after first song. Gasmask never moves the whole gig. The meat-and-potatoes tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut drumming sets the tone perfectly for what's to come over the next couple days. Enthusiastic Italians wave the Ginzo Flag in the front row. I split and apparently miss the Sarcofago cover. Cigs with Viv then off to the discount mart for soon-to-be-traditional 59 Euro-cent beers. Back at the gig, drinking is heavy inside and out of the club. Can't fucking believe I'm about to see the behemoth, Dead Congregation at fucking 4 p.m. ! ! ! Fog, lights, action. They open with “Martyrdoom” from the LP. All build up with deadly precision. You can't hear Anastasis' guitar at all. Guitar right creeps out above the mix. I go up front and the sound is a little better. Recently shorn bass player is DePalma stunt double. I will later see him almost passing out, yet buying two beers at a time ! Man, these guys have great songs and Mr. VV is heavy and menacing. The drumming is so good on the LP, I was afraid he might be a typewriter technician. No sir ! Perfect set dynamics. Ebb and flow of powerful pulsing, ominous Death Metal, ending with “Teeth in Red.” They should be touring the USA. FUCK !  Abigail plays poppy, anthemic, cartoony thrash metal. Gone are the facepaint and spikes. Here are the patch vests and baseball caps. So Japanese it hurts. Still very fun to watch. Well played, and could be on TV anytime anywhere at a TV near you ! There's some drunk blonde fuck yelling at everyone in front of the venue. Appropriately, I get a Turkish pizza. Spikes, white makeup, black makeup and fake blood are haphazardly smeared all over the leather men of Nocturnal Graves. Evil riffs spilling forth from an ancient fissure between the first two Bathory albums. Dedicated vibe. I'd never heard them before. The bass tone was really clacky. Maybe that's their style. Midnight comes on stage in a fuck! Athenar's childhood diaper is affixed to his headstock and set on fire with lighter fluid ! The fire goes out just as quick as it began during the opening power build up. Open E strings bellow in E flat and Hell is summoned. The cord is unplugged, the neck is grabbed and the bass is brought down to the stage multiple times in mighty wallops, shattered for Hell. A fresh bass is grabbed and away we go. Total Hell and Fuck for another 45.  Three shitheads in Black Nylon executioner masks. Athenar shirtless displaying old tattoos, bandoliers, and multiple flagellation scars, taunting the audience. “Lord In Chains” had everyone going. I lost my voice screaming, “Berlin, Berlin is Burning !” Most incendiary band of the NIGHT! As you may well know, the metal that Black Witchery plays is unmelodious with a persistent, ugly forward thrust. The fog suited them well in their cloaks, and they had the crowd in the crook of their hooves with their predominantly first-five-frets attack. Nothing but permanent frowns and primitive riffs from Alpha to Omega. Some long, damp staggering through the nacht strasse til ACCESS bar for more beer, fucking cigs, and Stefan the Frenchie telling lurid tales of decadence from around the globe, graphic and grim. Dead in the water and drunk among headbangers. Hailing a cab becomes complex with alcohol and language, but it's pizza with Black Witchery before we sleep. Did I mention pizza?  SATURDAY THE 14th Slow waking with many hungover jokes blasting around the bunker. Goatfago Strasse ! Vott are you sinking about? Do you guys like Hogan's Heroes? Taking the scenic route over the river to the venue, we bump into Jameson Von Midnight, and his new mistress and discuss the art of seamstery. Bands and fans spotted all along the river and near The Wall. Parking lot drinking in effect at high noon. Bone Awl was rockin' by the time we got to the gig. Mr. Volahn makes them a better band than when they played in Brooklyn last month. Scientific proof that having a big longhaired headbanging Mexican in fingerless gloves will lend more power to your group than an art school dude standing still in a Ralph Lauren golf shirt. Oompah in the land of Oompah !  Armed with Camo pants, hoodies, black tears of makeup, and the most awkward stand still singer, Embrace of Thorns was surprisingly un-bestial. Hardly glancing up, das vocalist looked as if he was taking a quiz, not rampaging the throne of Christ. Good riffs here and there, but stage power was low. Guitar left had a Dimebag Flying V. Huh?  Saw a minute or two of Proclamation before bailing to warm up and relace my codpiece. I heard they did three – count 'em – Blasphemy covers. Gotta hand it to these dudes for public sleaziness back at the hostel attempting to watch porno in the cafe. When they were asked to turn it off, a sonorous Spanish accent retorted, “You don't like it, you don't look!” Missed all of Morbosidad, hanging out upstairs and drinking. By the looks of it, they tore up a Bible. Leftover gospels, parables, and other sermons littered the stage like confetti when Villains took the stage. From the first note, people were pushed against the barricade, fist banging and headbanging. Some knew the words. Behind them was quite an expanse of empty floor, with more headbangers folding their arms in the back. We played a good tight set of shit from the first two LPs, obscurities like “Dog Burner” and the new jam, “Acid Punks.” Grand finale “Crazy For Blowjobs” was a striptease contest between Desecrator and Angus. Which Ginzo would show his crank first? Drago and Richard join for backup vocals as well. These guys aren't shy !  Post-show joints with Fingernails was a hoot. Angus urged a perplexed Desecrator to join the pants-wearing legions of MySpace, citing that electronic fans pursued us via the Fingernails site. Funky singer, Anthony Drago, quietly slipped on a single black fingerless glove and treated us to an A capella song and dance rendition an obscure JoDeCi song. This did not impress the necros one bit. Understanding more English than he speaks, Big Richard, simply loomed, observed, and grinned. Stand up fuckin’ Italians and a major highlight to meet them face-to-face. Keep an eye out for Big Richard's new group, Hammer, and Keep on Metal !  Back in the fog, veteran rictus-armed batterer, Chris Volcano, drove the dark death metal of Ignivomous into the bleary night. Though their sound can be chaotic, murky and bassy on wax, it was clear and articulated enough live despite the crappy room sound. Up front, the sound was a little better and their complexity and technicality came across classy and tight. Lots of headbanging on stage ! Newcomer Brian was dead-into-it and laid down some killer leads. Witchwhipper congratulated Chris after the set. Volcano, sweaty and depleted said, “I'm running on adrenaline fumes . . . and cocaine!” Sorry to state the obvious, but Ares Kingdom was Epic. It was exciting to see the delicate, masterful hands of Chuck Keller for the first time. This was like night and day compared to the records as far as energy. Although the bassiness of the room obscured his true tone, the songs were never flagging the whole set. The unmitigated outpouring of screams and sweat from Mr. Alex Blume carried the energy from start to finish.  No surprise that Revenge was swirling, savaging, frothing, headbanging destruction. Non-stop surging, whipcracking upheaval. Seasoned veterans discharging volatile, deliberate execution all the way. The ultra low-end of the house sound actually helped Revenge out more so than the other groups. Sounded like a two story cannonball if rolled down the strasse. J Read's hyperactive tornado style is something to behold. By set's end there was no adrenaline left in ye olde FritzClub.  It appeared the legions were indeed unholy for a good 48 hours. Arms folded, the seamsters union staked out and guarded precious territory. It was already theirs to begin with. Some fluorescent garbed interlopers were there to soak it all in as well among the hand shakin’ and back slappin,’ wheelin’ and dealin’ that was poppin’ off as far as the eye could see. Beers flowed. Shots forced into welcome palms. Allegiances made and broken. Bidding wars even ! Amid the organizing, coordinating, headbanging, slam dancing, and alcoholic insanity, Yosuke had this to say, “If I only drank beer.” Hail. Show your hardware.  [Patrick Delaney] [Photos by Patrick Delaney and Lindsay Packer] Ed Note: 70+ photos for this entry are available to view in our Gallery.
type: articles
keywords:
black metal,
germans,
german germans,
lhp034,
goat,
fago,
strasse,
nwn!,
berlin,
germany,
Comments (11) |
RSS FEEDS
TWITTER
print
email
list
big
small
Mr. Delaney was fired this morning for reporting inaccurate information.
We hold the journalistic standard quite high here at Left Hand Path, and we want to assure you - and other like-minded "individuals" - we will make a great effort to strive towards perfection in the immediate future.
Thank you for reading,
Voegtlin
WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT WHO DID WHAT BLASPHEMY COVER? GET A FUCKING ORIGINAL IDENTITY MR SHEEP.!
AND KEEP YOUR SKETCHERS CLEAN FUCKY.
LOVE,
MINKYA MOE