Missives From The Mosh Pit Edge

Pulling open the heavy curtains of my room at The Onyxen, I see green hills in the near distance. It’s 9am and I feel like a truck’s run over my head. I barely slept, now have to face the day and get myself to Gothenburg Central. I decline the offer of a taxi, preferring to walk. It’s not far, twenty minutes. I have a map. Oh God, delusion conquers common sense yet again. I arrive at the station two hours later and board the train to Stockholm with only minutes to spare. FFS. Current mood 🐰🔫.

Sweden’s great capital is at the end of the line so I plan to sleep the entire journey, confident in the fact I won’t wake up in, er, Belgium? I drift off in the comfort and warmth of the gently swaying carriage and to the soporific clicketty click of the wheels tapping over the tracks below.

I awake some time later, dopily look out of the window and sit up instantly with a start. OMG! Snow!! SNOW!!! SNOOOOOW!!!! Not only that, the bright orange sun is setting on one side of the train while the moon, tinted with reflected light, is rising on the other. It is pale orange and hangs just above the snow covered horizon.

I can barely contain my excitement. Phone out, click to the left, click to the right, click to the left again. Dizzy with this new headbanging technique ( The Wimbledon ), I cannot believe I’m the only person in the carriage overjoyed by the wondrous sight unfolding before our very eyes.

🤘Pic taken through dirty window of train travelling at 125mph🤘

Soon the sun is gone and night time reigns. While I gaze at the moon now dazzling the dark sky I eat the remains of yesterday’s dinner, press my nose against the cold window to marvel at the wintry view outside and count the minutes till Stockholm.

When I booked The Mälardrottningen seven months ago I was blissfully unaware of my latent terror of ships and water. Otherwise I would not have reserved a room on a boat. Or, more precisely, a cabin on a yacht. Yes, I know. The Mälardrottningen, built in 1924 in New York, is berthed by Riddarholmen Island on Lake Mälaren, Stockholm. With a startling lack of self awareness, I had thought it would be fun, a bit of a thrill to stay here but that was before my catastrophic nautical meltdown on The Danica and I now contemplate a night of wide eyed cow’rin in my bunk 😳😱.

With the lights of the city twinkling across the lake, drifts of snow on the adjacent bank and black, choppy waters underneath, both The Mälardrottningen and her setting are unquestionably beautiful and serene. Standing before her on the icy path, freezing air penetrating my gloves, fingertips beginning to chill, I wonder just what the hell I’m doing as I take a deep breath and walk quickly along the gangplank, over the dark, menacing water and into reception.

My cabin is charming, comfortable but too hot. I open the porthole ( 😳 ), inhale the fresh air, listen to the water splashing against the bank, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Breathe with me. Keep calm. Get ready. Head out to the venue.

Debaser Medis. I love the name. Debaser Medis. Better than Underworld, Hellraiser, Nosturi, Hevimesta, even Rytmikorjaamo. I’ve been looking forward to tonight’s gig and dreading it in equal measure; it’s the last show of the Coming Home Tour 2016.

The anticipation of this second night in PAIN’s homeland is slightly nudged by a small, almost insignificant, niggle. PAIN recorded a live DVD, ‘You Only Live Twice’, at Debaser in 2012. A super show, the front section of the audience is comprised mainly of young people looking fabulous. My worry is the Stockholm audience will be very cool ( Capital City Meh Syndrome ) and I will, in comparison and in the unlikely event of attaining front barrier position, at best, look like a Maiden Aunt; at worst, the Gruffalo’s Mother 😱.

So, here I stand in darkness, amid piles of snow and ice outside Debaser, exhaling frost with a deep sigh, a bit worried. Ah, I don’t care. I’m going in.

Jacket deposited, I walk quickly to the hall and make my way through the crowd. I stop at centre left, close to a man taking selfies with The Vision Bleak onstage behind him. He seems rather more interested in posing for pics than watching the band. This is a very good sign.

At the same time, I look around and see there are no übercool mehtropolitans in the front rows. I’m relieved that, in real life, the audience here is as varied and inclusive as elsewhere; a whole smörgåsbord of music fans gathered happily together to embrace an evening of electrifying, unfettered rock and roll.

Back to Selfie Man who appears to be alone and quite contented in his endeavours. I suspect he won’t stay long. I now skulk behind him, watch his every move through the corner of my eye, and wait.

As The Vision Bleak play on I’m aware of someone else, to my right. He too is watching Selfie Man. He too is waiting for him to leave. He too knows it’s only a matter of time. We check each other out with sideways glances. Who will win the most wanted position? Selfie Man turns towards us, looks beyond our heads and out into the crowd. He moves away. As the man to my right hesitates, I step up to the vacated spot. I’m really sorry. After a lifetime of accepting second best, tonight, contrary to good manners and social conditioning, I grab the opportunity to take what I want.

So, here I am, at the front, centre left. THERE IS NO BARRIER. Oh, did I just scream? Permit me to do it again. THERE IS NO BARRIER! I AM LEANING ON THE STAGE! OH MY GOD! This has gone straight into the Top Ten Rock n Roll Moments of this tour! I can hardly breathe such is the level of shock and disbelief. There’s a monitor in front of me with just enough space before the edge of the stage to fit my phone, lippy and fingers. I look around at my fellow front of stagers and recognise a man from the London show. Assuming he’s a Brit, I catch his eye, say hello and exchange a few words. I would love to have a conversation about PAIN, the music & live show but it’s neither the time nor place; leaning on the stage five minutes before the band decimate reality and carry us forth to Swedish Metal Heaven. OH MY GOD! 😄🤘😄🤘😄

Painheads are rapidly filling the hall, they’re getting louder, impatient; the atmosphere is buzzing; excitement levels are rising and it’s wonderful to be in the midst of another great home crowd. Shouts and chants in their beautiful language sail upwards from the sea of happy faces, waves of bodies push to and fro; the Bolly is hurtling towards the bow, we’re ready to launch, come on, PAIN, LET’S F***ING GO!

Watch out Selfie Man, you’re about to be annihilated by a cataclysmic tsunami of passion and noise. Be thankful you exited pole position early for it is total mayhem from the instant the band hit the stage.

It’s a constant struggle to keep my place as people try to squeeze in between those standing at the front. A man pushes through forcefully and successfully to my left, he looks at me and gurns a tipsy grin. I find myself standing sideways to the stage, sardined and squished. WTF? How did he manage that? The Painheads around me are momentarily blinded as an arrow above my head flashes into life. The Number Two. The Middle Aged Woman Not Taking Any More Crap. The neon strips have been replaced by laser beams and one of them is pointed directly between his eyes. Even Misters Tägtgren, Skaug and Andersson have hastily retreated to the other side of the stage like Three Wise Men knowing once the red button has been pressed, hell is unleashed.

😱 Fear not, Mr Andersson, you’re perfectly safe up there 😱

My attention is diverted away from the band as I concentrate fully on the task at hand. The rather jolly man also has an arrow pointed at him from above. It says, VERY DRUNK, IT WON’T TAKE LONG. I’m not subtle, I apply as much pressure to his body as I can, look at him and smile. I keep pushing, my God, he is strong. I will never be able to shove him away. Persistence is the key to winning this battle. I briefly consider tickling him in the armpit, that would probably do the trick but really, do I want to go there? Our skirmish continues for a whole song until, with my elbow in his ear and my knee hovering dangerously nether, he realises I’m not giving up. He beams a final smile of defeat in my direction and pings back into the crowd.

🤘 YOU smile at her, Greger, I’ll just pretend I’m not here. Those spotlights need a dust 🤘

No time to relax, a leather clad arm appears in the same spot, trying to wriggle in. I think not. My eyes follow the arm to the body to the face. OMG! It’s Pär Sundström from Sabaton, Würzburg und Leipzig Division, on secondment to Stockholm. OMG! Very nice to see you but no, don’t even try, the resistance here is too strong.

To my right, a whisper of a girl emerges from the crowd and indicates she wants to stand at the front. There’s room for her; I move up, she moves in, places both hands on the boards, leaps up over the monitors and joins the band onstage for a three second headbang before being dragged off by a crew member. Good for you, girl! My God, there is NO peace tonight. The audience, I fear, may be more entertaining than the band! Haha. No. Of course they’re not 🙄.

Between taking photos and short clips of PAIN, I tuck my hands along the underside of the monitor. Mr Tägtgren, while playing guitar, often rests his foot on top and rocks it back and forth. He may think the look of wide eyed surprise on my face is the result of witnessing his superior widdling skills at such close range but actually it’s because he’s crushing my fingers repeatedly into the dirt 😳.

The PAIN Coming Home Tour is nearly over but in five days they start another; a six gig, co-headlining tour of Finland. The set will be shorter and they will cull one of my favourites. Tonight they play the wonderful Black Knight Satellite for the last time. ‘Sitting on the top of the world, silently watching you, watching me…’, the Painheads sing along while they’re bodyslammed by the relentless, earth trembling strikes from Sebastian Tägtgren driving this great song forwards into Metal Hyperspace. The chaotic, other worldly music is a perfect soundscape to the pandemonium unfolding onstage as PAIN thunder forth like the resident band on Nostromo.

Another favourite, Shut Your Mouth, however, will remain. Traditionally, this is the ultimate song of the show, and it’s during this number that Mr Tägtgren stalks the stage, brandishing a microphone, thrusting it into the faces of both willing and unsuspecting fans alike, expecting them to sing.

Normally, I keep an eye on him as he creeps around, making sure I appear very occupied watching Mr Skaug and Mr Andersson, adjusting my earplugs, checking my emails in order to avoid his line of sight and ever present danger of having to sing.

Tonight, though, I don’t quite know what happens. Humming along, I daringly steal a quick photo of him standing above me during the first line of the song. I look right to capture another band member while he moves left. I’m not concentrating, I think I’m safe.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he swerves back, like a Velociraptor loose in your kitchen, hunting prey and catching a whiff of fresh meat. He’s there, looming over me and in a split second I realise with horror I have monumentally, fatally mucked up. I freeze, phone poised in the air.

The little red dot appears on my chest. The timer clicks to zero. The mushroom cloud rips the sky. The prehistoric, dribbling jaws bear down to reveal razor sharp teeth and putrid breath. OH MY GOD. Peter Tägtgren is wielding a microphone IN MY FACE. F****K!!!

I have no choice. God knows how hideous it sounds or even if it can be heard at all but I sing the line, ‘I gotta have it all…’ and OH MY GOD, I am instantly struck by a lightning bolt of divine revelation, the celestial choir of angels is on its feet, arms aloft, harmonising the heavens; the arrows above my head flash like headlights on a police outrider and I stand in complete amazement and wonder at this moment because I’M SINGING WITH PAIN and it’s just absolutely, totally, bloody MARVELLOUS! Straight into the Top Five Rock n Roll Moments of my ENTIRE LIFE!!!

🤘That’s not my hand, by the way 🤘

🤘All eyes on Sebastian Tägtgren bashing out an epic drum solo🤘

Various crew and support band members join PAIN onstage to sing the end of the song. There is much jollity, hugging, saluting the crowd, taking selfies, enjoying the last moments of a wonderful tour. Of course, there is the obligatory handsome naked man hiding his modesty behind a guitar and the spraying of large amounts of beer over the audience. It’s such a happy, joyful ending and I feel privileged to be right at the front to see it happen.

When silence returns to the stage I retrieve my jacket from the cloakroom and step out into the cold, cold night. The T Bahn is close by and I’m back on the shore of Lake Mälaren within twenty minutes.

Illuminated by the light of the silvery moon, I slip and slide the short distance to The Mälardrottningen. In the background, city lights dance across the lake; moonbeams skip the surface of the black water and land with a puff on the deep snow blanketing each side of the icy path. I stand in awe of such breathtaking beauty. I want to forever remember this moment, this night, this tour.

Cold’s icy fingers grip my body and I begin to shiver. Time to return to the boat, over the gangplank once more and into the warmth of my cabin. I lie awake for a very long time, the memories of tonight’s show refusing to allow me sleep. I listen to the water hitting the bank. It sounds just like a dishwasher stuck on a rinse cycle. If I wasn’t so horrified I’d actually laugh. Instead, I zone in on the mantra chanting in my head.

Five days till Finland. Five days till Finland. Five days till Finland. Oh God, I can’t wait. I can’t bloody wait.

🎸 Youtube ‘PAIN – Shut your mouth ( Live at Debaser Medis 2016)’. At the start of the song, I’m the second person in the crowd to sing 😱😄😜🎤🤘🙉😂.

🎸 Youtube ‘Pain “Black Knight Satellite ” 14.10.2016 Posthalle Würzburg’. This is so amazing, especially 1.49 – 2.21, 32 seconds of stunning, absolute perfection.