Missives From The Mosh Pit Edge

Drizzle is gently falling as I arrive in Seinäjoki. Hood up, I walk past piles of grey, melting snow dumped on street corners. The local shopping mall is drab, depressing; smells from fast food outlets permeate the air and shop windows scream the obscenity of Black Friday.

Amid the fading light of this bleak Saturday afternoon I reach my hotel, check in and sit in the warmth of my room. A dark cloud of melancholy hangs over my head. I’ve been dreading this night since buying my ticket more than half a year ago. Location of my first ever PAIN show, Seinäjoki is now scene of my last.

I arrive at the venue to find The Girl With Purple Hair and her friends already fronting the queue, swathed in blankets against the blood-chilling cold. The temperature plummets further and our breath freezes in the harsh night air. There is a forced jollity to our conversation; our Great Adventure is almost over and no one is in the mood for laughter.

😇🌗💀Rytmikorjaamo💀🌓😇

At first glance she looks like a 1970’s earnest organic lentil of a building; a perfect haven for Yoga Classes, Meditation Workshops and Vegan Lifestyle Seminars. Inside, however, she is one big, bad mother****er of a venue; well worn, lived-in; too much self-indulgence, not enough restraint. Attitude seeps from her shadows and threatens to whip your ass if you step out of line.

The stage is wide and high with a two metre gap before the barrier which is where we now stand, arms on metal, for the last time. I claim dead centre, the most coveted spot; fraught with potential danger; crowd surges, surfers, mosh pit. A position I would normally avoid, on this night it’s one I cannot resist. Should I heed my instincts and stand elsewhere? We shall see…

I look around with a short-sighted squint. I left my glasses in The Dream Hotel, Tampere. One consequence of this act of supreme carelessness is my perception of tonight’s show will be severely diminished; PAIN will merely be a blur of dervishing spectres ghosting over the boards. Unless a band member braves a small rectangular extension attached to front centre stage, I will have no respite from the frustration of watching tonight’s shenanigans through a veil of fog 😳.

A local support band, Ember Falls, is playing on a smaller platform at the back of the hall so most of the crowd already here is already there. Set finished, the Metalheads stampede our way.

Within these hallowed walls of the legendary Rytmikorjaamo, rolling clouds of smoke obscure the main stage and PAIN, to the welcoming roar of an ecstatic crowd, one by one emerge from darkness into light.

As if by way of a cosmic gift, Mr Andersson, with the agility of a Ninja mountain goat, immediately jumps over a monitor and lands deftly on the stage extension. Striking a pose, head down, he thrashes out the first notes of the first song of the last show of PAIN & Turmion Kätilöt’s Epic Har Du Horat Runt På Campingen Finnish Tour 2016. It is an unexpected, mood-elevating moment. Tack, galen Svensk man 🙌.

There is much jostling amongst the audience as the band proceed to demolish their set. A man crashes violently into the front row, trying to squeeze in to my right. There is no room! My neighbour and I elbow him off before he tries again on my left. His second attempt is thwarted by the defensive actions of another Painhead. The man is drunk, pissed off, strong, persistent and now standing directly behind me. He slaps one hand on metal, the other over my head, pushes me forwards into the barrier and presses himself forcefully against me. I can’t move. Am I imagining this? Have I spent the last few weeks taking every precaution to stay safe and here, as the band play, am I being perved in the crowd? I lever my hands on the barrier and push him backwards. This throws him off balance but instantly he’s back on me, pushing, grinding. Again and again I push him away until eventually, eventually, he stops. He leaves. I don’t know where he goes. I don’t care. He’s gone.

Dead Centre Front Of Stage. It is an extraordinary spot. There is no one in your line of sight but the musicians themselves and on this particular evening, seen through a most flattering myopic filter, Mr Tägtgren need not worry about grey hair and wrinkles.

As individuals, Misters Tägtgren, Tägtgren, Skaug & Andersson are talented, entertaining performers. As a band, they form the most sublime Rock n Roll cocktail; a splash of humour, a touch of menace, a generous squeeze of excitement followed by an enthusiastic shake of mayhem & mischief. One ICBM Eardrum Buster please, great Cockney Bartender. With a Chuck Berry on the top? Oh, yeah, two 🍒😉, thanks!

I take out my earplugs to appreciate the full devastating impact of my four favourite set list songs; End of the Line, It’s Only Them, Call Me & Dirty Woman. This cataclysmic union of heaven & hell slams over the barrier and knocks me off my feet. I rebound into the eye of the storm. Surrounded by a rushing tornado of energy and sound, it’s exhilarating, breathtaking. I relish every note of each great song, every thundering rhythm, every pounding beat. It’s hypnotic, surreal. There’s nothing quite like it.

And then, suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the storm abates and echoes into the distance. Calm returns to the stage. It’s over.

My fellow Painheads retreat from the front row and are replaced by a new influx of Turmion Kätilöt fans, one of whom is very drunk, sprawled on the barrier, staring at me, gibbering. I inadvertently glance his way then look to the stage, hoping he didn’t notice and will lose interest. But he did notice. He moves closer and his voice gets louder. I ignore him as he becomes more and more agitated. I don’t understand what he’s saying but I know he’s insulting me; he continually looks me up and down and begins to vomit a torrent of abuse. I broke Rule Number 1, you see. I briefly made eye contact with him. I sent an invitation to a confrontation, gave the opening line of my last conversation. I should have known better.

However, I will not back down from this man. I will neither cower nor leave. But I have to stop this unwarranted verbal attack. I try to stare at him blankly, pleasantly, but cannot suppress a sneer; my lip curls instinctively by itself and he’s now yelling in my face.

As I feel his spit on my cheeks I rapidly break Rule Number 2. I yell back. I’m barely aware of what emerges from my mouth, words are meaningless as he goes completely insane. I can hardly breathe. He’s going to hit me. I don’t necessarily fear his punch; he is so drunk and unsteady he will have the power & velocity of a limp noodle dangling in the breeze but I do fear the rush of adrenaline flashing through my veins because I want to slam my fist into his f***ing face. I have never struck anyone before but if he touches me I will defend myself. I have no friends here, only the hope that strangers will assist a lone woman confronted by a raving lunatic.

He, on the other hand, does have friends and it is at this point that one of them realises he is on the brink of physical contact and pushes her way between us, holding him back. He begins that stupid arm flailing typical of cowards when they are restrained; they’re SO tough and REALLY WERE going to smack you on the head. Would he have hit me? I don’t know. Would I have hit him? I don’t know. I don’t care. He too is gone and I do believe, on this very strange evening, that makes it 2 – 0 to me.

Turmion Kätilöt’s set of Industrial Disco Metal Mayhem is as bonkers and delightful as ever. The crowd around me is now a merry writhe of joyful Kätilötters, chanting and singing along with their six barmy countrymen. Oh, to be Finnish for just one night! Oh, how I hope to see this band again! They are undeniably, wondrously as mad as March hares and I have completely loved their shows.

Mr Tägtgren joins them for a raucous ‘ Grand Ball ‘, their majestic English Lyric blunderbuss. It is surprising to see him onstage without guitar, straightjacket and fellow bandmates. It is even more surprising to see pink underwear, a penchant exposed when he drops his trousers to reveal some rather fetchingly colourful foundation garments.

                Yes, he levitates.

🤘Mr Tuomas Rytkönen, Turmion Kätilöt 🤘

Misters Turunen ( Turmion Kätilöt ), Tägtgren and Närhi ( Turmion Kätilöt )

Misters Toiviainen (guitar tech extraordinaire), Voutilainen( TK ), Tägtgren & Skaug.

The ultimate song of the evening is a truly awe inspiring rendition of the 1980’s Samantha Fox classic ditty, ‘ Touch Me ‘. Yes, I know! Cringe no more, sing along and appreciate the genius of this final tune, roughed up, tattooed, pierced, clad in a ripped T shirt and skinny black jeans, snarling, growling, tongue out, middle finger in the air.

Mr Tägtgren returns once more to the stage with his guitar, accompanied by some trusty crew members plus Mr Skaug. I presume Sebastian is assisting behind the drums but I really cannot see. I also cannot see Mr Andersson.

Misters Tägtgren, Närhi and, hmmm, who could this possibly be? 🤔

Through a myopic haze I detect a figure lurking with intent in the shadows. Dressed in a long black leather coat, wearing cowboy boots and a saucer-eyed Painhead mask, he faces the Turmion keyboard player, Mr Tolsa, and holds his coat open like a flasher on day release outside a girls’ school. I get the impression there is nothing underneath but a spritz of Eau de Chanel and he won’t be prowling in the background much longer.

He turns and approaches the crowd. Oh my God, it’s Mr Andersson and his intent is becoming clearer by the second. Depending on one’s point of view, this is either a most pleasing development or an ethically-challenged moral dilemma. In both cases, it’s certainly not in the least bit surprising.

There is a considerable build up to the reveal. He taunts his fellow band members, teases the crowd, is there even a drum roll? I hardly notice as I have an extremely urgent and pressing discussion going on inside my head. To look or not to look, that is the question.

As I watch Mr Andersson step down onto the platform in front of the stage, IN FRONT OF MY FACE, I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that because he is putting SO much heart & soul into this extra curricular performance it would be very rude indeed NOT to acknowledge his spectacular efforts and steal a quick glance. Don’t you think? How unappreciative of his endeavours would it be not to have a discreet peep? Yes, I totally agree!

Shoulders back, chest out, he breathes in, flexes the abs and wrenches open his coat. My eyes, of course, see nothing through my fingers but a soft-focused blur. He could, actually, be wearing a pair of Hello Kitty pink knickers. But somehow, I doubt it 😄.

Mr Andersson’s gloriously mischievous behaviour brings the show to a riotous, gleeful conclusion. Sebastian and Mr Seppänen ( TK ) emerge from behind the drums to take their place amongst their bandmates & crew onstage for a final bow.

Carried on a swirling, chaotic twister of smoke, roars and wailing guitars, the entire world revolves around our heads as we partake in the madness of the last moments of this extraordinary, uniquely wonderful tour.

I stand at the barrier, arms on metal, the stage is empty. The audience drifts away. Colours have faded, replaced by grey and I feel a creeping darkness slowly grip my soul. The memory of the two unfortunate events I experienced in the crowd and the absolute high of the show wrestle inside my head, numbing my senses and scrambling my brain. I force a smile on my face to say goodbyes but my conversation is dull; the flame has burned out and there’s nothing left but a wisp of smoke curling upwards, dissipating into the cold night air.

On the chilly evening flight to London the next day I wrap up, cover my face with a blanket and enter a twilight world of confused half sleep and fantasy where moments of the past weeks drift in and out of focus; the shows, the travels, the fun, the mayhem, the people. It all seems so unreal, did it actually happen? Do I wake up now and think, Oh God, was it just a dream?

But it was real, it did happen and there will be more shows, more exciting travels, more great times, more madness, more fine people, more aching legs, more dehydration, more insomnia, more disorientation, more cheese & pesto rye rolls. It’s only a matter of time…. OMG, I cannot wait!!! 🤘❤️👊

🎸 Youtube : Pain – live at Rytmikorjaamo Seinäjoki 2016 – Clip 1

🎸 Youtube : Turmion Kätilöt feat Julma Jii and Peter Tägtgren ( Pain ) – touch me – Samantha Fox cover live 2016