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Damage done

Yesterday I drove the crew back from Rock im Park. We waited until 1pm or so to head out, but even then we were so exhausted that I had to pull over halfway home, because I was worried about nodding off on the autobahn.

There were not many cameras present over the weekend, which was a wise decision, as the weather got suddenly shockingly bad on several occasions. We were graced with sunshine most of the weekend, so we spent our time shirtless and writing on each other, and finding broken sunglasses in the mud and trying them on.

A few highlights

It was a long weekend, but I’ll cherrypick some memories. A friend and I were on a mission to make the Opeth set, and since they got one of the larger outdoor stages (as opposed to the indoor club-style venue where most of the heavy bands were playing), we knew we had to show up early if we wanted a good spot. This meant I got to see most, if not all, of Silverstein’s set, and I must say it was a very pleasant surprise. They had a great crowd and some pretty solid tunes. I might not listen to them myself in the future, but I’ll definitely name drop with a few people.

Between Silverstein and Opeth, thunder rolled across the park complex. Wind flirted with the trees, lifting up the branches in an unbearably long arsis before the storm. When the rain came, it was absolutely torrential. Phones, cigarettes, campground maps, anything anyone might have had in their pockets was totally fucked. Those who stayed through it to wait for Opeth to come on were the hardest Opeth fans ever—but then, to be fair, there aren’t really that many people who are casual Opeth fans.

Right before the band came on, the rain turned to hail. It was only pea-sized, but since some of us (<– this guy) left our shirts back at the campsite to get soaked there, it stung like hell. Many people assumed a reverential, contemplative posture of clasped hands and downturned head, probably because they saw what hail can do to somebody’s eye if you look up at the sky while it’s coming down, like what happened to a girl next to me.

When Opeth came on stage, the place went nuts. By this point the mud was just a lake of muddy water and gravel, and the moshers starting sweepkicking to make sure everyone was not only soaked, but filthy, too.

Mikael got on the mic and said, “You guys are all fucking crazy. I? I would’ve just gone home, I think.”

Then they played, as an opener, Demon Of The Fall. Every time I’ve ever seen them, this has been the encore piece, and I think they reworked their set to reward the fans that stuck it out through the weather. Their setlist was so:

1. Demon Of The Fall
2. The Baying Of The Hounds
3. Heir Apparent
4. The Drapery Falls

There might have been a fifth song, but I don’t think there was. That’s the problem of having songs over 10 minutes: you really can’t play that many pieces live, even if you up the tempo (which they certainly did).

The fans there were freaking out, because pouring rain is the best weather to listen to Opeth to—especially anything off Blackwater Park. The acoustic bridge of The Drapery Falls was beautiful in the rain:

Spiraling to the ground below
Like autumn leaves left in the wake to fade
Waking up to your sound again
I lapse into the ways of misery

And then you headbang until you die.

Another great time was during Black Dahlia Murder’s set, when the singer gets on the mic between songs and says:

This song is about… putting your dick in the dead.

I was very near the front on that one, and looked over to one of my shirtless buddies, and we both pointed with our thumbs to the pit forming behind us. That was an awesome pit, which for some reason also had insanely hot girls in it, girls that would fuck you up if you went easy on them. I found that out the hard way. I saw several people land on the back of their head and have to be carried out. Staying up was definitely a bitch, because the floor of the indoor venue was slick with sweat and beer.

My shoes died that weekend in the pits. The soles are barely attached any longer, the shoelaces got ripped, and the holes for them to be fed through along with, holes in the bottom for rocks to get in… I need new shoes. The best part? I wear a size 50 here and I’ve never, ever been able to find a pair that big. I’ve asked all my German friends and they just tell me to go back to freak country where shoes that big are sold.

I guess I only have a week left anyway.

There are thousands of more tales, but I’m short on time this morning. Pretty much all the other stories need massive amounts of gesticulations and crucial comedic timing. Perhaps I shall videoblog some of the more palatable ones in the future.

For now, though, I post.