Screaming out enough evil to confuse one’s adjectives, this is the nicest smelling Watain set I have laid eyes upon.
A miffed Eric Danielsson proceeds onto the stage following his band mates, they need to play in daylight, but has deliberately delayed his entrance for the setting sun. Like a Black Metal King Canute he susserates his order to the horizon: “We are Watain and we will bring down the sun.” The power of their decimating set has begun.
If you brought along sausages and marshmallows for dinner, this is the place to cook them. Watain let us know that there will be barbeques in hell when we all get there. An explosive set of pure hatred, Malfeitor introduces the band who are indeed begotten of the virgin whore. Security have waterproofed themselves to ward off the blood that will spray from Eric’s venomous buccal orifice, but their anoraks risk being melted by the fire surging upwards to melt the entire structure of the RJD stage. Because we can all sing-along to the waltzing ‘Sworn to the Dark’, well singe my soul (!), we have moved from evil to a black metal campfire: marshmallows to the ready!
Joking aside, the organisers of Bloodstock have played a blinder pairing Watain with Behemoth, and this performance will only increase their following and swell the Black Metal hoards even more. Burning a hole in ‘Reaping Death’, and finishing with ‘Stellavore’ and the ‘Waters of Ain’, holy upside-down crosses, Batman! This is certainly what I came for. Immense…. simply superlative and it is clear that these Swedes can lay any stage to waste at any time of day. The sun has been brought down to humble submission.
I think I have pissed myself with fear. Oh my fucking God… Behemoth are the pinnacle of the entire festival.
Striding into a blood-reddened light on the mainstage, Adam ‘Nergal’ Darski takes on a priestly stature belting out ‘Ov Fire and the Void’ as a vast Polish flag spreads over the audience. We are receiving a lesson in Gnostic and syncretistic theology. With ‘Demigod’ ushering flamed inverted crosses, demonstrate with foreboding that the terms Black Metal paired with ‘spectacle’ is not oxymoronic. If, like Behemoth does, you are going to have bare breasted women in your videos and a series of headdress changes in collusion with the milliner from hell, then I guess you can’t complain if the balance is righted and a fan strips off and waves his ginger pubed willy at you in the darkness: he must have been rather drunk or had no fear. He disappears into the crowd again on fear of being the next victim castrated by the full force of ‘Christians to the Lions’.
When Nergal proclaims that ‘It is good to Be Alive!’ the meaning of this spine chilling declaration is greeted with complete assent from the pulsing throng of fans, which must have multiplied in number that night.
The closing ‘Lucifer’ in an explosion of tongue in cheek glitter leaves a chill across the darkness as the black mass ends in an eerie mysterious silence. Behemoth have certified themselves as a headline act to equal no other.