DIMMU BORGIR, PRESENTED BY DISNEY, BRING THEIR CHER ROBES TO THE PALLADIUM

Yes, I went to the Dimmu show. Mostly because I’ve never seen Enslaved and I like them but I guess a small part of me wanted to see the spectacle that is our good old Demi Moore Burger (new entry for Kuma’s? Decide what’s on it the day it comes out and change it, the very next day?). But before I get to that, I have an open letter for someone very special.

Dear Asshole Tapout-shirt Guy,

First of all, I’m sure the band thanks you for your participation, but what are you doing here? Why are you standing there in your goddamn shirt, your shaved head, stupid backwards baseball cap, and shorts? Sir, you do not fit in, and though I’m a firm believer that nobody should be excluded from anything, you do not belong here. You barrel by me, bouncing me off your gut, without even saying an “excuse me” or a simple “Get out of my way.” You are not a good audience member. I’m standing to the side, not in the walk way, not in the pit, I’m in virtually no one’s way and yet, you, yes only you, still manage to knock me over. I know it’s loud in there. It’s supposed to be. Did I not hear you? Then tap me on the shoulder and gesture curtly. I don’t care how you do it. There is no reason for you to leave a bunch of fallen bodies in your wake. Metal audiences are not small people. But somehow they manage not to take over everyone else’s personal space. You do.

But more than that little thing, I’d like to remind you that metal shows are supposed to be fun. You go, you cheer, you get drunk (I don’t because I’d rather remember what I’m seeing but that’s just me personally, I don’t care if everyone around me drinks their weight in alcohol), you sing along, and you go home. I don’t care if the guy wind-milling next to me smacks me in the face with his greasy hair. Hell, that’s supposed to happen. But you, you annoy everyone with your asinine comments, your fucking bad attitude, and your equally douchey friend. You have no manners. And yes, there are manners that come into play even if you are just there to be ironic with your bro-dude pal, though I doubt you could even define the word “irony.” You see that psycho moshing, whirling around and slapping everyone silly with his arms? Even he will stop everything and help get the kid that falls down back on his feet before resuming anything. We are supposed to look out for each other. You add nothing but grief.

You are the reason I don’t enjoy metal shows as much anymore. You are slowly turning the audience into walking shit bags and forcing me to go to concerts I either really want to see or I don’t have to pay for. There’s no, “Oh, so and so are playing, maybe we should stop by,” anymore. I have to weigh the band against the audience and decide if it’ll be worth it. And no, I didn’t pay for this particular show but I’d still like to be able to watch it without your aggravation. What’s the point of you even coming!  You just got in a fight and got kicked out. Thanks for that though, I cheered.

I’m pretty easy-going. I can put up with a lot. Even the fifteen-year-olds making out in front of me don’t bother me as much as you (stop that right now. You are children. Does your mother know where you are?! Oh for crying out loud, borrow mom’s car for another hour and get your kicks out there, not on top of the poor big guy next to you. You’re making him sad). They just gross me out, but you set my teeth on edge. Please just do us all a favor and go catch the game at some bar across the street, brah.

Love and bunnies,

Me

Now, on to the show. It was the first night of the tour at the Palladium in Worcester, MA. Yes, hello again Palladium. How are your dick employees? Oh, still the same? You’re still a pain in my ass to get to, Palladium, and yet here we are, another Friday night together. And since you’re in the middle of nowhere and there’s nary a decent food place around, I will have to wait until I get back to Boston at 1 am to eat. And it’ll have to be Chinatown because that’s the only place open and so I’ll sit across from a table filled with dressed up older gentlemen and hope a triad war doesn’t break out before my crab Rangoon comes.

Moving on though, Enslaved were great. They are wonderful to watch. I always judge a band by their banter and they knew their beer-swilling New England audience really well. The music was so tight, so crisp, it was just a pleasure to stand and listen to. Plus, I always get happy when I watch Norwegians play metal. They not only have my favorite accent, they remind me of watching old Asterix cartoons when I was little. Yes, I know Asterix wasn’t a Viking (he’s French! Fun fact of the day. Well, more accurately Gauls.) but they all have that similar look. Blood Red Throne also opened but honestly, their sound was so messed up (which was another reason why Enslaved were so great as the second act) I sort of stopped paying attention. The crowd seemed to enjoy them though?

Ah, Dimmu Borgir. Okay, I know standing up at concerts is a pretty given thing, but this is a show. Say what you will about them, they put on a show and I parked myself right on that handy barrier behind the pit and sat to watch. Flying moshers, you’re welcome. I know you probably didn’t enjoy cracking your heads on my bony knees as you spiraled out but if I wasn’t there, it would be the sharp edge of the platform and then you’d careen right into the stairs. Dimmu’s backdrop was the original artwork (Mr. BJ Face) as I guess they didn’t have time to update it and they had their set up of weird light things that completely burned my eyes. They also had the same face/skull thing hanging on the drum set with its long, blonde pigtails.

…Yeah, it looked as dumb as it sounds. As my friend put it, the show was black metal as presented by Disney, and hey, that’s kind of the fun with Dimmu Borgir. It’s a little diet. Put it this way, I will forever associate them with the Hellboy trailer. If I had gotten into them when I was younger, though, I probably would’ve thought they were awesome. Judging by the audience, that’s sort of what was going on. You could tell they were psyched but I guess I’m a little jaded. They have plenty of songs I do enjoy though and seeing corpse painted fans made my night. They’re pretty much the black metal KISS in terms of theatrics so I was happy to see their fans coming through with patchy black and white gunk on their faces. Unfortunately I didn’t manage to get a picture of a certain guy, all painted up but with glasses, stopping mid-headbang to text. I really wish I had.

I hate to say it, but it was kind of a disappointing show. The band just seemed tired and yeah, it’s the first night so there are kinks to be worked out but it was overall rather underwhelming. And I don’t like the white outfits! Did Elton John sponsor the costumes? Come on, the keyboardist had on a shiny Dr. Evil Nehru jacket get-up and Galder’s fur stole? Dude, there is a picture of me, no joke, at age five wearing the exact same thing. I stole it from my grandmother. Shagrath, I know you think your costume change was cool. But the Elvira-like deep V-neck robe thing with flowing arms? Yeah, the guy heckling you next to me called you Cher.

I guess I just expected more. They didn’t even bother with the “evil black metal” voices. Just kind of talked like normal guys. It was a fun show; I’m sure anybody under the age of 20 had the time of their life instead of bitching about it like me, but it was my second time seeing them and the energy that made them Dimmu Borgir was just not there. I guess publicity shenanigans take more effort.

-LF