My trip to the US. Tour report of sorts.
Chaos.
Some moments, by definition, are precisely that. Little time after our arrival, sadly having missed Friday night's proceedings ( Andre did get there in time, having taken a different route, and will do his take on things.), I realized that this would indeed be all that it promised, and a hell of a lot more.
But the day started long before that moment in which, scarcely 30 minutes upon our arrival on the hotel, we settle in the lobby with a selection of fine Portuguese beverages ( unanimously hailed and lauded by all the foreign contingent.), and quickly lure passersby to our alcoholic siren song. No, our day, for all relevant purposes, started with our missed connection at Frankfurt. The storms that were felt in Germany made our flight to delay 2 hours, leaving us stranded long after the connecting flight was gone. our dismay increased upon looking at the 100+ line in front of Lufthansa's ticket stand. Our solution? Don't know if it was a consequence of our then ever more glowing rock stardom, or just the usual nerve of the Portuguese, but soon, we were at the front of the queue at the almost empty VIP stand, where surprisingly we were tended to in record time.
Of the ten hour flight to Chicago, I only have to say, Campari sucks.
Well, that, and the slight stress of thinking about customs. You see, with all the stories circulating about the insanity of air travelling nowadays due to security and customs restrictions, we were half fearing getting our Cd's held at the border. Turns out, they were not only laid back about it, but they were very, very cool as well, and were easily the easiest people we had to deal with in all our hellish airport relationships.
So, 00:30 pm, roughly 24 hours after we set off, we arrive in Minneapolis. One would think the jet lag would put us out of commission, but nothing could be further from the truth. A quick trip to our rooms to drop off our bags, and it's back to the lobby with a nice Little bottle of amendoa amarga (a drink made from sour almond essence). Which brings us back to where this little saga began.
While setting shop in the lobby, bottle in hand,we were met by a very strange looking fellow, who looked very out of place indeed. He greeted us, cigar stump in hand, and started to talk about, among other things, the homoeroticness of Metal, and just how much we europeans were actually conscious of it.
He does have a point, though, and in a while conversation reveals this man to be, in fact, Mike Scalzi from the great Slough Feg , a band that like their mentor are very strange and out of place indeed. So, a little more banter ensued, and I finally convince him to taste amendoa amarga. When he does, I actually managed to out weird him for a few seconds.
Him: "Oh, wow, this stuff's great, really great. Tastes real good. Like your mom!"
Me: "Oh, well, I'd have to take your word for it, now won't I?"
Him: "Yeah, I guess so." *swig* "Man, this is even better than your momma, sorry. This actually tastes... like your grandmother"
Me: "now, wait a minute there, I've had my grandmother and this tastes nothing like her, no comparison, really!"
*blank stares followed by laughter.*
That moment was conveniently followed by the arrival of quite a few long known faces, namely Andre and Mael Mordha, and longtime online friends Ryan and Nickolle, who also came in bearing gifts.
Now the party could REALLY take off, and it did. Proceedings from this moment onwards did get a bit blurry, but all four bottles were consumed in record time, as well as some beer. I do remember attempting a photo session along with Obtest, and Nickolle, who for the duration of the evening shall be called the bad adviser from hell, feeding our poor drummer in whiskey shots. Actually, not whiskey, but jack Daniels. Whiskey at least has a chance of being good, sometimes.
So, after Obtest's bassist collapsed on the lounge's sofa, heroically still holding a beer bottle, me and Helder decide that the cozy -15ºC temperature that was felt outside was just perfect for a stroll. I don't really remember all that happened at this point, but apparently we did take a picture to prove it.
4am came and thoughts about sleep prevailed. Not for anything but there was a concert to be played the following day. Jorge would have none of it at this point, threw a tantrum fit, went out the room and dancing down the corridor until a security guard gave us our first eviction threat. Would not be our last. Decided to party on some more, our brave brave little soldier strolled on to 7th floor, and knocked on every door, asking for the party, only to be met with people wanting to sleep. And sleep he wanted to do as well, after that, heading back to the hotel room and deciding that the floor looked very cozy indeed, thank you very much.
So ended the quiet night. At 10 am the next morning, we were all up (sorta, Jorge had in the meantime discovered that beds ARE softer than the floor, and now that he had one to himself, he would not give it away for nothing), and proceeded to head on for breakfast... and gasped.
Ladies and gentlemen, now, I am the first to say that Americans, contrary to popular prejudice, are actually extremely nice easy going folk who will greet you with a smile. However, anything that you may have heard about American dietary habits is not only true but probably actually understated as well. They were serving, among extremely fried strips of bacon and eggs and huge pancakes, hamburgers. that's right, hamburgers for breakfast. Well, food is food, and we decided we'd make the most of it, since for a fixed price, we could eat as much as we could. And so we did. Jorge finally shows up, his face making it pretty evident who was the true party animal among us, and our decision was made to... go back to sleep, while Andre got a hold of the band's laminates and food tickets. And sleep we did. No 4 hours sleep would compensate us from 24 hours worth of jet lag, partying, and uncomfortable airplane chairs, as later my body would point out for me, but we had to make the best of it. So the minutes before 3 PM were spent in all things sleeping and snoring, and boy, did it feel good.
We arrive at the venue just in time to check in our merch, and catch a bit of Dark Forest's performance. They handled themselves pretty well. Like I had the chance to tell them later on in the night, their sound is far from original (Basically, think Bathory, Moonsorrow and Falkenbach), but it is being done quite competently. Moonsorrow were like that before finding their own voice somewhere around Kivekantaja, and since these guys are young, they will move on to bigger and better things, when they truly find their own voice.
On to the signing session, then. Quite awkward at first, I have to say. No one really knew who we were at that point, and so we were just five guys sipping beer sitting at a corner (AWESOME beer, by the way. Can't remember the name, and indeed, though everyone of us drank some ten cups of it, we never got the name. It was the one with the little barrel on top, and that was it). Soon enough the first curious persons came, and the bottle was running smoothly enough. By the time Mael Mordha came to take over proceedings, those seats were becoming long lost friends, actually. A New motto for the band was then devised, inspired by the sweet tasting brew: Ale and Kill. So, after the signing session, I actually went back looking for some of the people whom we have signed, telling them we had actually forgotten to put that on the posters.
All the while, Gwynbleidd were playing in the next room (the bar and the stage area were separated by a balcony, so you could watch shows from where we were standing). The first few minutes of their performance were only heard and not watched, and I have to say I liked what I heard. Very competent musicians, their sound owes a bit (ok, a LOT) to Opeth's "orchid" period, with the proggish 70's acoustic bits replaced by acoustic celtic folk. A nickname is quickly devised: "Folkpeth", and a rather fitting one it is. When we actually watched the concert, and the musicians on stage, my appreciation went down a notch, only for the fact that they seemed completely oblivious to the fact they were in concert. The music blew me away, though.
Contractual obligations done, we caught the full of Earthen's set. Hmmm. The concept is indeed interesting, a jab at goth metal with folk touches, with only one electric guitar, and the rest all acoustic instrumentation. On stage, the performance showed a band who is still quite green on stage, and allowed the nerves get the better of them on some parts, even though in their ranks they count one veteran formerly from Novembers Doom. Confidence will do a long way to tuning up this band to their potential, I am sure.
Back to the bar, Mael mordha had taken our relaxed signing session one notch further and into new heights. Small signs left and right were being drawn informing us of such things such as "don't feed the baby", "I need to take a piss", or my personal favourite, "Screw?". I ended up tying that one to my pants, conveniently located on my crotch, as a future pick up line. Just lift the shirt a bit, and no words would even be needed. Sounded like a plan.
(Pic By Nickolle Morsut)
On stage, Shroud Of bereavement played. I missed a lot of their set, busy with getting us ready, so I can't really comment. Not the right setting, I guess. My mind was elsewhere, because we were on next, kickstarting the international contingent.
So, How did we fare? Pretty fucking awesome, if you ask me. the tape of "Of Splendour..." starts playing through the PA, and we're greeted with a general look of "who are these guys?", and by the time we left the stage everyone had their eyes on it, and was cheering quite enthusiastically. Our performance was not spotless, but quite fucking intense, and the crowd did respond in kind, cheering us loudly, and raising their fists on command. "Our blood for naught","Waning of might", "Setting stones", "Dementia" and a quite fierce "The Indomitable Spirit" were what we had to offer, and we're quite happy to announce the audience did accept our gifts pretty well.
Backstage, we meet with Mael Mordha, who were on next, and... Mead, for a job well done. Drink on brave soldiers, drink on, who am I to turn such nectar down?
So, if this was a battle, we'd be the light lusitanian cavalry, luring the enemy armies to the fight, whereas Mael Mordha became the heavy infantrymen who fell down onto an unsuspecting, disorganized enemy.
Because honestly, no one quite saw this coming. The day was pretty much theirs. Covered in cloths and blue paint, brimming with stage presence, and with Rob's facial hair being the second best of the night (sorry man, Skyforger still won hands down) their Gaelic Doom Metal went down a storm into an already fully enthusiastic crowd. The Americans' thirst for new sounds from the old continent(s) was by now fully evident, but still, it was as if someone told these Irishmen the show was cattle: they promptly went and stole it.
"You look like you're about to pass out", one lady in attendance told me. And I very nearly did. The adrenaline from the concert wearing out, I was now officially a walking wreck fueled only on sloppy joes (Can't even begin to explain what this is to non Americans... regurgitated burgers and ketchup all fried over and over again, perhaps?), pizza and that aforementioned ale. At this point, Helder and Jorge also had enough, and went to sleep back to the hotel. I hung on through to the end, by stubbornness or sheer stupidity. Probably both.
It was in this state that I saw Obtest , and as such I cannot really make a fair assessment. My priorities lies elsewhere, in the much needed quest for calories that would help me through the night. I really wanted to react to Auka Seniems Dievams, my favourite song by them, but exhaustion had me grounded.
I did however manage to drag myself to watch Rudra, and am very very glad I did. The stage presence, barring the bassist/singer was a little held back, but the quality of the set more than made up for it. Again, a clear mix on the PA is an absolute blessing, all the intricate musicality of their excellent brand of vedic Metal shining through. Most exotic band of the festival, and one that deserves to go places.
I needed to wake up. I really, really did. so, what was the game plan? Getting our American friends to the liquor store, get us a gallon of vodka, and red bull. In the meantime, back at the venue, one vodka, straight up, followed by two vodkas and coke got me through the next two bands, and in woken mode until the hotel was reached.
As a result, I did allow myself to be more conveniently blown away by Skyforger. Their metal has that long forgotten word that a generation of Jumping beans in baggy pants from California has turned dirty: Groove. It crunches and plunders through, and when mixed with all the folk influences, it's where they're at their best. Well, that, and a headbanging bagpipe/kantele player, who really adds to their live sound. And of course, the awesome, awesome beards.
Onwards, and upon the Thundra veiled nether regions of the Northen Vinland, where Lo, the haphazard traveller may indeed cast a weary glance upon... sorry, got carried away. This means, of course, Bal Sagoth were next.
People will always love them or hate them, and they were true to themselves. Me, I love them, so, it was quite a good concert. Byron's stage banter was not only on character but witty and tongue in cheek as well, the band sound tight, and even if their sound was a bit over intricate after the direct brutality of Skyforger, it had me headbanging as the good wittle fanboy I am.
Back to the hotel, and back to the task of partying. Vodka with red bull was consumed, and from that moment on it's rinse, wash, repeat on the previous evening's proceedures. Jorge and Helder are conveninetly woken up to partake in the festivities, and soon, it was too many things happening all at once, too many to tell them all in detail. Among other things, drawing obscenities on a sleeping guy's face, trying to sneak into a jacuzzi and attempting to murder Mael Mordha's Dave with a sock were great moments of incongruent silliness, which got us a few more warnings from an incresingly despairing security.
The party on the 7th floor with the Skyforger and Månegarm guys is deserving a bit of a mention here, though. After Zirgs kindly regaled us with some drunken renditions of some of the best Latvian folk had to offer, we happily spoiled it all with some of the worst portuguese folk had to offer... all accompanied by some acoustic instrument jams! Truly a great moment, which captured the whole feeling of the festival. Friends being made, songs being sung, just happy people being happy, I guess. It would have been memorable even if we were completely sober. Which, well very few of us were.
(Pics By Kim Kelly)
... and so it was. After a night of barely healing sleep, we head to the airports to complete our adventure. By that time, I am so tired I cannot even see straight. All of the journey home, with all of its hassles, became a blur, something the mind so dazzled by the magic of the previous days chose not to properly commit to memory. More than not knowing where we were, we were soon forgetting when we were. Home beckoned again, though these memories shall not fade. We came thinking of making a few new fans, turns out, we made a lot of new friends, and for that, we're very thankful. Names to be dropped shall be scarce, but a hail to old friend Ryan and Nickolle, a tip of the hat to fello bands Rudra, Mael Mordha, Skyforger, Obtest, Dark Forest and Manegarm, a cheers to new aquaintances Megan, Makaela, Phil (thanks for the pics!), Kim, Cindy, and Jalek, and most of all, a loud, loud round of appraise for Jon and Kris for making it all happen.
So here's to all of you. Pröst, Slainté, Blodu Ok Jarna, Cheers, we raise our cups to you.
Ale And Kill!!! WE MAY FALL, BUT NEVER YIELD!
(All pics by Ryan Blackburn except where specified)