Missives From The Mosh Pit Edge

Flight Gatwick to Copenhagen is delayed by late arrival of incoming plane from Denmark because of snow. I sit in the departure lounge, day dreaming of glistening white landscapes, frosted dragon’s breath, glasses of steaming mulled wine, long-haired, tattooed Metallers and having my brain pounded by the PAIN blitzkrieg later on this evening 😄.

However, as my flight bounces through dense grey clouds, dreams of a winter wonderland are dashed as I see only green below.

Flight Copenhagen to Aalborg is due North but still, no snow. No matter, it is dreich and misty and that will do. Waiting alone at the bus stop at Aalborg’s deserted airport, I breathe in this bracing air drifting landward from the sea and feel an expectant peace; today will be a good day.

🤘 The drop off point at Aalborg Airport 🤘

Darkness is descending as I reach my hotel, The Cabinn. I check in, find a map and set off to locate tonight’s venue, The Studenthuset.

Christmas is merrily jingling forth; festive lights and decorations adorn this delightful town. The bars on Jomfru Ane Gade glint and wink as I walk by and I think how pleasing it would be to share a few glasses of something hot and intoxicating with a Painhead or two before the show!

Absolutely charming, Aalborg is also quite compact and I find the venue without too much trouble. In fact, I do not get lost at all which is so shocking I almost have an out of body experience.

From the venue I stride confidently, head up, back to The Cabinn via a supermarket where I buy water, coleslaw, rye rolls, smoked ham, tomatoes; the usual suspects.

Looking at the Metal Festival Facebook page I see PAIN will be onstage at 10pm, after their four supports have wowed the crowd and set the mood. I get myself ready; earplugs, check; lippy, check; glasses, check; money, check; ticket, check. Feel like another one, Headbangers? Okay, follow me, let’s go!

Next to The Studenthuset there is a small, cobbled courtyard bedecked, but not quite ready, for Yuletide. There are fairytale Hansel & Gretel wooden chalets dotted around the edges from which the good people of Aalborg will buy frikadeller and Julebryg, vaniljekranse and honeycake hearts. Christmas trees, branches constrained by webs of string, stand proud against the walls. It’s like being in a hidden glade in an enchanted forest.

Shadowed by a beautiful church spire which has overlooked this little corner for four hundred years, I feel a stab of overwhelming emotion. The earthy scent of the trees envelops the courtyard, music backdrops the air, friends and loves laugh in the distance, echoing sounds of happiness from times long, long ago. How lucky I am to be right here, right now. How lucky I am to have found this music. How I will pay for these moments when the shows are done, the circus has moved on, the magic is gone and I’m back across the sea.

Outside the venue, by a door to the left, is a great crowd of people drinking and smoking, ah, must be the entrance. Or maybe not. I think I will go the other way. Neither rhyme nor reason; I will just do whatever is contrary to the obvious; and this is how I constantly get lost. With such mentality dictating my every move is it a wonder I have survived for fifty plus some years ( 😉 )?

So, I turn right and walk past tour buses and trucks, hoping I don’t bump into anyone band-related as I recce my way around the entire building before arriving again at the crowd of Metallers. Oh My God. I stomp through the doorway and into the bar. Now I have to find the cloakroom and stage. How difficult can that be? Pretty bloody difficult, as it transpires. I keep stomping round the foyer, back into the bar, I just cannot locate either, am I even in the right place?

There’s a barmaid; we smile, I say, ‘Hello, do you speak English?’ ‘Yes, a little bit,’ she replies. ‘Great, that’ll do! Can you tell me where to go to see the band?’ She looks at me quizzically ( it’s an expression I’m used to ). ‘I’m here to see the band, where should I go, please?’ ‘Ah,’ she exclaims, points to a door, ‘there!’ Super, thank you very much! I reach the door just as someone goes through and it slightly closes in front of me.

My fingers are almost on the handle when I notice a piece of paper stuck on the outside. CREW, it says. Backstage. Oh My God! I jump back in shock. Oh My God! I was on the verge of going in! Can you imagine if I had? Oh, God, can you imagine walking in and someone’s in their UNDERPANTS???😱😱 Or WORSE???😱😱😱 And being asked who you are and what you’re doing here? I just don’t want to think about it. Would ‘actually, I’m lost’ be an acceptable reply as I’m manhandled out the door? Nope, I think not. A lifetime ban from PAIN gigs, a mugshot on every ticket and a restraining order narrowly avoided, methinks.

Back to the bar, I see the barmaid again. You know when I said I was here to see the band? That’s not quite what I meant. She points behind me. Go back the way you came in and go left. Ha! Thank you! I must have missed the door to the hall on my initial stomp round the building. So, back outside, turn left, past tour buses & trucks wondering if anyone has noticed this deranged woman bombing round again but not really giving a rat’s ass this time as I realise this is not what SHE meant.

Back to the bar entrance and there’s a man standing by a wooden table. He might know where to go. Same question posed. ‘Ah, yes, the door is,’ he points, ‘over there. The band are sound checking, the door will be open soon, go have a drink….’ his voice fades into the distance, I’m no longer listening. I’m looking at the door, looking at the group of SEVEN people standing in front of it.

Are you serious? Go have a drink when I can hear the front of stage barrier whisper, ‘come to me’? It has the voice of a Siren, the pull of a tractor beam; resistance is futile. My eyes fall upon a pile of wristbands. I probably should have one. I say, ‘please could I have a wristband?’ He enquires, ‘you haven’t had your ticket checked yet?’ Well, no, but I’ve already been in twice, do you really need to see it now? Can I not just QUICKLY have a wristband?  I’ll fix it myself? No, he HAS to apply the plastic; rules & regulations. F**K! He faffs around and I’m counting the seconds, stretching my arm away, the seven are now nine. Oh God, please hurry up!

Wristband on, I hastily join the expanding group and suddenly the door opens, we rush in and there, to a rousing celestial chorus of angels ( the same one that was outside the ladies’ loo in Hellraiser; like the two arrows above my head, it follows me wherever I go ), I, for the first and probably last time, touch the hallowed front of stage barrier. Coat off, arms on metal, it feels like coming home.

There is a very nice young man standing next to me; we exchange a glance, a smile, a thumbs up then a few words to acknowledge our Outstanding Achievement to Metal 🏆 in reaching the barrier ahead of the scores of people now spilling into the hall. The magnitude of front of stage position engulfs further social pleasantries and we stand in awed silence before the boards. OMG. OMFG.

The barrier is chest height and one metre from the stage. I lean on it, arms crossed, in a state of cool, calm shock. I savour every shallow breath I take; every movement, every sound I detect coming from the stage as it is prepped for the band. I know this fluke situation will not happen again, this thrilling wait for the start of the show standing at the best position in the house.

Billy Idol heralds the imminent arrival of PAIN, the lights are lowered, a metal fan (🤘) swirls smoke over the stage and out into the crowd. Boisterous this evening, the Painheads have been here for hours, drinking gløgg, having fun. They’re pushing, shoving, swaying, shouting; this is what they’ve been waiting for and they will not be disappointed.

Sebastian Tägtgren is first onstage, behind his drums; then André Skaug, followed by Greger Andersson and finally Peter Tägtgren whose advent is the trigger that releases an instant surge of riotous, bottled-up energy from the crowd. It roars through bodies, slams into walls, bounces back and slaps us all on the side of the head. Thwack. Again and again, it’s like getting Tangoed 😡 😜. A complete, unadulterated rumpus, I get squished against the barrier, elbowed, shoved, splattered with beer. I briefly worry that a Mosh Pit will develop and I will be obliterated but it doesn’t and I don’t. It is mad, good natured, I totally love it!

 And the band? Oh, yeah, them! Tight, loose, hot, cool, they ease into each song with the confidence that accompanies the knowledge that you are the best. One great tune follows another, the audience cheer, pogo, wave arms above heads, sing, hurl arcs of beer through the air, embrace the joy of a PAIN gig in their home town.

The circus is here for one night only and as the Ringmaster holds the audience in his thrall, his band deliver an unstoppable barrage of mayhemic rhythms; the elephants are stampeding, the tigers have cornered the clowns, the tightrope is noosed around your neck and chaos reigns supreme.

The show is over way too soon and as I stroll back to the hotel in the cool, beautiful night; through the pine scented courtyard and along the street bedazzled by Christmas lights, I look back upon the day and wish it had lasted just a bit longer, for it had been, indeed, a very good day.

Göteborg i morgon, åh, Sverige❤️

🎸 YouTube  ‘Pain – Designed to piss you off ( Live Aalborg 11/11-16 )’.

Camden Underworld, Leipzig Hellraiser’s creepy English cousin. Both evoke suspicion, curiosity and fear. Enter at your peril, for demons await and you may never return. Hardly dancing along with a happy refrain to the show tonight, my imagination riots with images of menace and doom. And it’s London, too cool for school, meh 😳.

Leaving work at 8.30pm, I get on train for four minutes, tube for thirty, and good evening Camden Underworld. Warily I descend a flight of dark, narrow stairs into the flaming bowels of hell before emerging into a bright, friendly, welcoming bar area. Yes, I know 😄.

I make my way through the bar and stand, amazed and delighted at the sight before me. The venue is like a pub, the stage well under a metre in height, and small. There’s no barrier and, for the moment, the folks in the audience are dotted around with plenty of space inbetween. I hesitate not one second, I barely even breathe as I scan the room and clearly see my favourite spot. Left of centre, down the front. Leaning along the stage are a few ladies, considerably shorter than me. Behind them, a couple of men, considerably taller but who are holding cameras. Official photographers, unable to stand in front of the non-existent barrier, will take shots from the crowd and leave after the first few songs. I decide to sacrifice the initial view of the band for a clear vista fifteen minutes into the show.

More and more people push into the hall. This is going to be exciting, special; the crowd senses it. There is no room for the PAIN light show, no room for the stage show.  This is a band pared back to the basics, no bells and whistles, dancing girls or fireworks; just four men on a stage armed only with their instruments, talent, fantastic songs and a passion for their craft.

It’s already getting hot as the intro starts, Billy Idol, Rebel Yell. The audience sings along with the homeboy, they know all the words and the chorus is a rousing flashback to our youth in the 80s. ‘In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more; with a rebel yell she cried more, more, more; in the midnight hour, babe, more, more, more; with a rebel yell, more, more, more, more, more, more….’ It’s grrrreat!

There’s an agonising few seconds’ wait before the band appear from the darkness and instantly command the stage, get down to business and thrash out the first song. I’m gobsmacked and overjoyed to be only a couple of feet away from them. They are so close! ‘How can this be?’, I ponder briefly, before conscious thought vapourises as the photographers click, the temperature soars, the crowd goes nuts and the band thunder on.

Three or four songs in, the photographers leave their spot and the coast is cleared to reveal an uninterrupted view of the stage. This, combined with a band relying solely on their music to entertain and astound, is undoubtably the best moment of the shows so far. It is quite magical; it gets hotter and hotter, the air gets thicker and it feels like everyone there is part of the show. There’s no real distinction between those onstage and those in the audience, we’re all just THERE, consumed in a raging maelstrom of sound, heat, sweat and the absolute pleasure of an utterly perfect moment in time.

Later, a considerate and kind barman, not permitted to sell drinks after the show, gives me a tall glass of cool water before I leave the Underworld for the London streets above. The cold night air is a welcome relief from the stifling heat inside the venue and I float home on a cloud of ecstasy. How, on this earth, will I sleep tonight?

Home. Water. Instagram. BBC News. BBC Weather. YouTube. Oh, God, not YouTube at this hour. Wide awake. 3am. Phone out, watch clip taken at show but deleted by mistake in a hurry. It appears to be, actually, very good. Super footage of Mr Andersson close up, bashing out a tune, metal-saluting the air THEN pan to Mr Tägtgren headbanging, flicking hair back, shooting a Metal Glare directly at me. EEEEK! Lucky I didn’t notice it at the time. I would have dropped my phone and scarpered!

🎸 Now your turn. YouTube ‘Pain LIVE at Camden Underworld 24.10.2016’ for the first 46 minutes of the show, oh, wow! Wonderful! Watch it on your phone for the best picture and if you look closely around 23.37 you’ll see the Metal Glare for yourself😱.

Reluctantly, I leave The Hotel Regina in Würzburg after a brief but deep sleep in an insanely comfortable bed. I awoke, however, with a thumping headache; the result of a post gig smoked ham sandwich & bag of salted crisps. Missing breakfast, I down half a litre of water and two paracetamol to ease the, er, PAIN (😜) before setting off.

Train to Fulda then change platform for train to Leipzig. Sleeping most of the way, I arrive feeling quite alert and ready for a new adventure. This feeling of positivity and light gaiety lasts as long as it takes to step out of the train and onto the platform. The sun is blazing, it is hot and humid. Instant return of headache. It’s almost winter! Begone summer torment!

I walk through the adjacent shopping mall. It is bustling, noisy, airless. To encourage a harmonious, zen-like awakening tomorrow morning, I change drastically the post gig menu and buy merely two bananas and a litre of Volvic. For the moment this makes perfect sense but I have a feeling that when I return to the hotel after the show tonight I will not be best pleased with myself.

The A&O Hotel can be found facing Leipzig Hauptbahnhof. A huge, characterless, grey building, its corridors remind me of The Shining and add to the unease I feel about this city. Würzburg was so welcoming and friendly; Leipzig looks and feels menacing in comparison, like the nasty big brother who gives you Chinese burns and kicks your ass.

It doesn’t help matters that the gig is on the other side of town. In fact, it’s totally in the middle of bloody nowhere. According to the leaflet that came with my ticket, you catch bus no.72 from the Hauptbahnhof, get off close to Hellraiser and walk a short way.

Well, let’s see about that. It’s now 8.30pm. As a precaution, I take the phone number of a local taxi firm with me, just incase. There are lots of drunk people lurking outside, and as I wait at the bus stop I feel like a sitting duck under a spotlight with a target on its beak and a reward on its head.

The number 72 approaches. I get on, stamp my ticket and find a seat by the window. Leipzig is barely illuminated by sporadic street lamps and in the gloom we pass grand, ornate houses; worn by time, holding ghostly memories of splendour from a bygone age; it’s sinister and quite beautiful. Only missing is a swirl of mist and the lament of a solitary violin.

The street lights vanish and we enter complete darkness. My stop is announced ( I have its name and the three preceding it written on my arm ), I ask the driver, ‘Bitte, und zurück, wo ist das Stop?’ He is disinterested and thumbs vaguely over his shoulder. I hop off, locate the return bus stop, note the time of the last bus ( in my head, not with pen on my arm – this is a crucial point ) and follow the thud to the venue, Hellraiser.

💀🤘🏻HELLRAISAAAAH🤘🏻💀

Inside, it is dark, foreboding, hot and full of mad Leipzigers. There are Hellish scenes painted on the black walls; it is a perfect venue and audience, both are as I imagined and hoped they’d be. Now I’m here the unease dissipates, kindred spirits surround.

The entrance is at the back of the hall so l am immediately confronted by a sea of people extending all the way to the stage. I contemplate how I’m ever going to get near the front.

Firstly, though, the pre-gig pee. Where is the loo? I have no idea, it’s pitch black and I can’t see a thing beyond my nose. Looking round I notice a vague haze of light in a booth to my right and figure it’s the cloakroom. I gingerly pick my way over through the crowd and ask the man,’Wo ist die Toilette, bitte?’ He flaps his arms above his head and delivers a spiel in rapid fire German. I have no real clue what he’s saying but hazard a guess. I splutter, ‘Ich verstehe nicht’, point behind me, wave my hand from side to side to emphasise the words and ask, ‘ Ich gehe da und da und da?’ He nods head vigorously, ‘Ja.’

Keeping to the edge of the crowd, I dodge all the way down the right side of the hall towards the stage ( heh heh ) then through a doorway into almost total darkness. I realise this is what he was saying, ‘watch out for the stairs, uneven surface, potholes and bottomless pit. Oh, and it’s not signposted so you will stand in the small foyer amidst hordes of drunken men on their way to relieve themselves while you squint in the murk trying to locate the loo.’ A young woman appears and we both look around, perplexed. Suddenly, at that moment, a door opens, I hear a celestial chorus of angels and in the shaft of light beaming forth we see the queue of ladies.

Now ready to rock, I climb back up the stairs and into the hall. I see a space at the front, two rows from the stage. I nip in, feeling very pleased with this unexpected opportunity. Not the traditional Young side but the Williams prospect which makes this a significant departure from my usual show MO.

In front are two folks holding cameras from the Leipzig Advertisaaah Metal Department🤘 and Pär Sundström from Sabaton, Würzburg Division! OMG! To my left is a rock solid Ukranian body builder and beyond him, a ramshackle group of very rowdy young men. I am yet to realise my good fortune to be in this very position within tonight’s front of stage formation.

PAIN attack just after 10pm, the juggernaut of sound tearing through this delight of a venue. The audience salute the band, punching the air with raised fists, horns up. The wait is over, the band is here, let mayhem begin! The Teutonic Painheads are loud, mouthy; the atmosphere lively, happy, easy, relaxed. It is hot and sweaty. The band get their heads down immediately, there’s no easing into the madness; they’re right in your face, assaulting eardrums, rattling bones, firing volleys of Swedish metal over our heads to thrash the monsters and demons seething on the walls beyond. Amid the darkness of Hellraiser we embrace the redemptive powers of this loud, rhythmic, pounding music which engulfs us all in waves of hope and joy 😄🤘.

The group of exuberant boys to my left, however, surf the waves, throw back a few more beers and kick off their mini mosh pit action with an almighty shove. They go completely nuts, throwing themselves from side to side, falling over, being total pains in the ass. My bodybuilder takes the hits and stands his ground, no messing. If he hadn’t been there I would have been trampled like a bug. I’ve never been so close to a mosh pit before and, even if it’s a small one, it is as fascinating as it is scary and annoying. Fortunately, the violence only lasts a few songs before the Moshers run out of juice, settle down, behave themselves and embrace the love 😄.

In the latter stages of the show, thoughts of buses and last bus times fleetingly enter my head but in the throes of Metal ecstasy I dismiss them instantly. Live for the moment, fear not! The show is intoxicating, time stands still, nothing else really matters. However, as soon as the band leaves the stage, reality rears its unwelcome head and I wade through the crowd, into the night and along to the bus stop ( most rebellious rock n roll line there, haha 😄 ). Checking timetable again, I read; last bus : 23.30. Checking watch, current time : 23.40. Marvellous.

The crowd is now exiting the venue in droves and disappearing into the night. Plan B. Maybe the U Bahn isn’t so far away? I ask a woman passing by, ‘Hallo, es gibt keine Bus, wo ist die U Bahn, bitte?’ She replies,’ Keine U Bahn aber der ist ein Nacht Bus.’ ‘Ein Nacht Bus? Super!’, I exclaim. She says,’Um Ein Uhr.’ At one o’clock, hmmm. Plan C. I try the taxi number. ‘Die Nummer machts nicht.’ Something like that, no taxi.

DEFCON 1. Back to Hellraiser. I see the man who took my ticket and ink-stamped my hand earlier this evening. He’s saying Gute Nacht to the last people leaving the venue. I smile and say,’ Hallo, es gibt kein Bus, es gibt kein U Bahn, mein Telefon ist kaput, können Sie Mir helfen mit ein Taxi?’ He looks at me quizzically for a few seconds, thinks,’ Mein Gott, eine crazy Frau, ich muss get rid of her NOW’, but says, Ja, he will phone a taxi for me. Martin, I believe he is called, kindly allows me to stand inside the venue till the taxi arrives.

I get back to the hotel slightly unnerved by post gig events, sit down and reach for the snack bag. FFS, two bananas and a litre of water.

The Hotel Regina in Würzburg is staffed by two charming gentlemen. Advertised as a family run hotel, staying here is like being enveloped in a big, warm hug. I ask Stefan in reception the whereabouts of tonight’s show, Die Posthalle. He laughs out loud, takes me gently by the arm, leads me outside and points triumphantly across the square, ‘Da drüben!’

Not only is the hotel directly opposite the Hauptbahnhof, from where I arrived ten minutes earlier, but the venue is merely a two minute walk away. Stefan enquires as to the genre of music I shall be appreciating this evening. Jazz? Classical? Nein, Swedish Metal. He has the grace not to laugh although he can’t resist a comment. ‘But you don’t look like……’ Ja, I know 😄.

The photo opportunities are abundant in this beautiful city; I spend a while Instagramming round town before returning to The Regina with an armful of groceries, a contented heart and high hopes for the gig tonight.

 🤘 View from my bedroom window, the tall Posthalle building across the Square 🤘

The Posthalle Facebook page announces PAIN will be onstage at approximately 9.30pm. With three hours to go I prepare some food; potato salad, smoked ham, tomatoes and a chocolatey temptation called WUNDERBAR. The evening’s tone is set by this delectable confectionary item and its jaunty sentiment emblazoned on the wrapper 😄.

Daring myself to a lights-out, gig-start gamble, I leave The Regina at 9.15pm and make my way across the square, down the Eingang to the doors of the venue, past the bar full of revellers, through ticket control and into the hall itself. This is thrilling, not knowing where the stage is and having only moments to decide where to stand. I’m overjoyed to discover the entrance is on the left front and, to the fading strains of the same AC/DC classic as last night and the dimming of lights, find a suitable place two metres from the stage. The intro starts IMMEDIATELY. OMG!

As the band accelerates from 0 – 120 in ten seconds I have a quick look around at my fellow Painheads, a mixed bunch including, in front of me, two people with very long, head spinning theatrics Metal Hair, the sort of hair you do not want to be behind when the headbanging starts.

For the second gig of the tour I stand in awe and disbelief that PAIN are playing on a stage in front of me. The show is still a novelty, an unfamiliar of sights and sounds; the nobelium-fuelled, thundering music bouncing from wall to wall, wrapping the crowd in a thrilling tornado of excitement and pleasure. It is exhilarating, uplifting and such fun!

As the evening progresses, amid the relentless bludgeoning from the Swedish String & Drum Quartet, I inch my way forwards and away from the Metal Hair propelling into my face. With some gentle nudging and tactical manoeuvres I advance to second row from the stage. The audience is relatively well behaved, no monkey business or crowd surfing, just a room full of punters enjoying a wunderbar show. A man catches my eye, he looks familiar and I ponder briefly why I recognise him. Ah, Pär Sundström from Sabaton! Well, it’s not really him but OMG, they could be twins.

Mr Tägtgren and his band of brothers dominate and hold the audience in a grip of iron; torsos are squeezed, eyes pop, mouths hang open as the flashing light show illuminates the raging demons stomping over the boards, head spinning, bashing out song after amazing song. Standing in the midst of this is like putting a metal bucket over your lunatic head and incessantly whacking it with a spoon. Especially during It’s Only Them where a wave of madness engulfs the entire room.

Sanity returns with a cold vengeance when the band say goodnight and leave the stage.

🤘Sebastian Tägtgren, André Skaug, Greger Andersson & Peter Tägtgren : PAIN🤘

Walking downstairs to the exit, I am followed by a group of Inbetweeners, mouthy, still on a high from the show, feeling confident, feeling brave. My German’s not that great but I do catch the gist of what Jay says to Neil. ‘Oh, mein Gott, look at her, it’s deine Mutti, hahahaha.’ Really? Well, Liebling, if I was your mother, you’d be on a train with me in the morning heading to the next gig instead of lying in bed nursing a hangover and being grounded for a week for being an extremely rude boy.

Within five minutes of the show ending I’m back in my room, pacing. Craving sleep, I’m hyper for hours. Beyond sleep, I sit and stare at the wall. Leipzig Hellraiser tomorrow. Oh, God, I can’t wait.

🎸 Youtube ‘Pain – It’s Only Them ( Live Würzburg 14.10.2016 )’. Earphones in, dim the lights, crank it through the red and lose yourself in this jaw-dropping, bucket on head 4 minutes 46 seconds of total mayhem 🤘🏻😄😜.

🎸 Youtube ‘Pain Zombie Slam 14.10.2016 Posthalle Würzburg’.

Good afternoon, Headbangers, from East Berlin. It’s bonkers, it’s exciting, it’s lively and I’m quite beside myself with joy to be here 😄.

Today has been a challenge against incompetence, both home and away; train strike, plane delay, hotel shuttle bus disappearance.

Armed solely with a map, a modest amount of confidence and a great deal of determination, I actually succeed in finding the way from Schönefeld Flughafen to my hotel. Possessing a non-existent sense of direction, this is a major achievement. Still, at one point, quite baffled, I wander through the streets of Berlin, suitcase in one hand, map in the other, arrow pointing at my head with ‘LOST TOURIST’ graffitied on the side in giant red fluorescent letters, ‘MUG ME NOW’. This arrow follows me ruthlessly on my travels. It jostles for space alongside another which warns ‘MIDDLE AGED WOMAN NOT TAKING ANY MORE CRAP’.

Not only is Hotel Osten in the same Straße as tonight’s venue, it’s rather handily situated directly opposite the entrance. Too early to check in, I leave my bag at reception and embark on a recce.

The Astra Kulturhaus enclosure is composed of an array of bars, restaurants and multi-purpose buildings constructed around a series of cobbled courtyards. I don’t exactly locate the venue itself but no matter, it will be SO much easier to find later on in the dark.

☝️Posters on a fence by the Astra

👇An outbuilding in the Astra compound

☝️👇The Wall

Back to The Osten. I check in, go to room, get iPad out. No internet. Straight downstairs. ‘Oh, there’s no wifi today’. Hmm, really? An arrow above my head bursts into life with a siren of flashing lights. It’s the second one, oh no, here we go.

Politely but most hand-on-hip insistently, I ask the hitherto unseen and completely unconcerned manager to fix it. He reluctantly sends for the IT engineer but, between them, nothing can be done. The offending router is actually in my room so after Fred n Barney shuffle off I have a go at fixing it myself, plugging it in, out, in, out, shaking it all about but still no wifi. 😱

No Internet. No YouTube. How do I distract myself now from the nerve-shredding, stomach-churning, nail-biting countdown to the start of tonight’s show? At six minutes to midnight on the Doomsday Clock, the seconds tick agonisingly closer to the point of Total Global Thermonuclear Metal Meltdown 😱……

Suddenly, through an open window, carried upon the cool breath of this beautiful October evening, I hear the first note of the first song played by the first band on the first night of PAIN’s Coming Home European Tour 2016. It’s happening. IT’S ACTUALLY HAPPENING!!!

Excited, nervous, I fizz around my room like a Lushbomb in a running bath. I antibacterialise my earplugs, polish my glasses, and try not to spontaneously combust 🔥😜🔥. Lippy, ticket, handful of Euros, oh my God, come with me, Headbangers, let’s go!

I venture into the night, traverse Revaler Straße and enter the Astra Kulturhaus compound. It is barely lit, deserted and unsignposted which can only mean one thing. In my defence, I’ve been awake since 4am and I’m not a compass. Creeping around in the darkness, trying not to look suspicious, hoping to spot a PAINhead to follow, I curse myself for not having found the precise location earlier. But there is nobody to be seen; they’re already inside the venue.

I come to my senses and track a dull thud pulsating through the air to a single storey building nearby. It is open on one side with interior walls made from horizontal strips of heavy duty plastic. As I tiptoe inside, the dull thud becomes a clear, thrilling blast of a rock band in full flight and with bated breath I walk on until I face a huge black curtain hanging the width of the hall. Beyond this, the dance floor. Beyond that, the stage, upon which is the Swedish band, Dynazty. The first band, Billion Dollar Babies, I will not get to see. In fact, this is the only time I will see Dynazty. O, woe my creaky knees.

Two metres from the stage, left side, is a fine spot, not too crowded, good view. I feel very aware, alive; colours are bright, sounds are sharp. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time.

The final support of the evening, German Horror Metallers, The Vision Bleak, tread the boards but I am distracted from their set by the impending arrival of Zero Hour and will the time to pass.

Impatience simmering beneath quivering expectation, the wait is unbearable as the stage is set for the headliners. Amid strains of The Cult via No Doubt to AC/DC, Shoot To Thrill, the crowd swells and sways; anticipation is palpable, touching bodies with glances of excitement, strokes of want; butterflies with icicles on the tips of thrashing wings.

Without warning, Mr Johnson’s dulcet tones fade out to dimming lights, and through a swirling maelstrom of blue smoke engulfing the stage, PAIN emerge from the shadows, one by one, to detonate the first song with the power and volume of a strategic nuclear blast. I stand, transfixed, as the crowd explodes into a sea of waving arms and punching fists. Oh my God! OH MY GOD!!!

From the first ear-shattering note, the show is a sustained attack on the senses, an all encompassing barrage of sound, flashing lights and deep reverberations which relentlessly rip through your body, ignite your spirit and elevate your soul to the highest heights.

Three new members join Peter Tägtgren onstage, one of whom is his 18 year old son, Sebastian, on drums. The bass player is a former member, back in the team, André Skaug, he of the majestic headbanging technique and penchant for death-defying stage dives. The new guitarist, Greger Andersson, has an engaging stage presence and interacts enthusiastically with the crowd, clearly enjoying his new gig.  Lastly, Mr Tägtgren himself, chief whipcracker & creative tornado behind PAIN.

The band look great together, four individuals forming a strong, tight, powerful unit. Sebastian Tägtgren is a revelation. This young man is supremely capable, confident and it’s a pleasure to watch father and son make their own dream come true.

First and foremost, of course, are the songs. Some old, some new, all borne of a tirelessly creative mind, all delivered with swagger and strength. With fistfuls of rock, metal, orchestral & industrial, PAIN is an amalgamation of experimentation, imagination and derring-do. Bearing this in mind, there are two slower numbers on the new album, Coming Home, and both are played live. Certainly good songs and very popular with the audience, I’m just more receptive to tunes that whack you round the head and make your brain come down your nose. Oh, and if a song begins ‘been watching myself in the mirror for forty plus some years and seen how time makes you wrinkled and grey’, I am more inclined to put a bag over my head and wail rather than sing along 😳😄.

Do you know that deliriously happy moment in ‘Wayne’s World’ where the gang of friends are in their wonderfully crappy little car playing Bohemian Rhapsody on a cassette, singing along and start to headbang at the same time? Be-el-ze-bub has a devil put aside for me, for mee, for meeeee……..heads down, air guitars, air drums, oh, it’s marvellous!

Well, this is what a PAIN show is like! Yes, really! No, it is not five long haired blokes in a car listening to Queen 🙄.

It is the glorious combination of thundering sing-along songs, the delight of being amongst fellow PAINheads and the joy of those heavenly moments when everyone, band & fan alike, gets their head down to neck out the rhythm of an epic, headbangin’ tune. Wayne’s World is on repeat and you never want it to end.

But end it does, all too soon. With a bow and a wave to the cheering crowd they’re gone.

I return to the hotel immediately. Shell shocked, elated, I’m still awake at 4am, 24 hours without sleep. I look and feel like a hungover zombie having a very bad day. This is SO not good. I have to be up and out in four hours’ time to get to Berlin Hauptbahnhof whereupon I plan to board a train to Würzburg.

Combining my track record of navigational mishaps with the Hauptbahnhof’s notoriously confusing floor plan, if I’m not careful, I could end up absolutely bloody anywhere.

🎸  YouTube ‘ Pain Astra Kulturhaus’ and you’ll see ‘Monkey Business’.

🎸 YouTube ‘Wayne’s World, Bohemian Rhapsody’ 😄.