20.+22.10.2009 Markthalle Hamburg, GER, Z7 Pratteln, CH
Into Darkness Festival in Switzerland, Pratteln, so it´s clear what to be expected, dark creatures, sinister music and Electro-Techno beats. Definitely not a boring evening with all those glittery make-upped Boys on stage and those stylish colour-lensed guys & gals of Goth. The opener of this evening are
Dope Stars Inc.
Rocking riffs with Techno beats are the signiture of those Amore boys, some like it, some don´t. For some it´s the right sound to dance to, for the others it´s just pain. Also the audience cannot quite decide, some are waving their hands in the air, others prefer to spend their time outside and to wait for the next band. Despite that the band gives a good show, at it seems they had the best sound that evening. Finally Darin´s bass is lifted up, where VITTU is written on in huge letters since last Mama Trash Fest . As nobody here knows what they should make of it, there are no reactions.
When I had seen them the last time they were with their old singer Christopher Schmid, and to me it seems impossible to equal or top this guy. Therefore I might be a bit too critical here with the new guy Rob Vitacca. He is good and has a deep original voice, but he clearly displays that Ville Valo is his biggest idol: the movements on stage, the clothes, gestures, body language – it´s a pity that his inspiration is too obvious. More of his own personality would make this one a remarkable act – but with or without Christopher it´s destroying the overall impression.
Diary of Dreams
They don´t fit to this tour, in my opinion, this extremely Goth-like repertoire takes away the atmosphere built up by the first two bands. Some appear to have come to the show just because of this band, but for me it was just boring music with boring lyrics that are repeated over and over. Not my cup of tea, therefore I better don´t say anything more.
After the major part of the audience has already left, the hall is filled with dry ice smoke, the intro begins as well as the screeching. What is it that those guys make the girls fall apart… one even missed the beginning because she had to be carried out before that. The fog is so intense, you can only see the silhouettes of the band. No change to get a good photo under such circumstances. Well, at least you hope to get a good concert with a good sound, unfortunately in vain.
Mr. Whiplasher could hardly be seen and heard, and the rest wasn´t such a hit either. When you´re in the concert hall and can hardly see anything of the band, you could rather have stayed at home and listen to their CD. At least the last 2 songs came fog-free and you could spot the naked upper bodies of Misters Skinny, Cat and Whiplasher. Too bad for the band that this was no good gig, their energy was OK, but they should reconsider their show effects! (Sandy Mahrer)
Photos: Andreas Torneberg, Sandy Mahrer
„I want to love-hate you! I smash your heads that blood squirts over your blond hair! Is this okay for you?” Yeeaah! The girls in front of the stage would love to be raped by the singer of the Deathstars, Whiplasher Bernadotte. But before this can happen first the Dope Stars Inc. from Rome have hard work to build up the heat as they are the opener of the fiesta.
Punctually at 7 p.m. the Romans charge the stage. In the last time there was a lot of promotion for this Italian combo so that’s why the hall already is pretty full of guests. Victor Love with big sun-glasses screams out his soul, and his troop helps him fiercely to make the stars glitter and to spin the breathless party rock into the celebrating audience. They rock it wildly half an hour without any break to relax, and the guitars are more distinctly in the foreground than on the record. But 30 minutes full-speed show that they could try to create some space in between the all time stamping rhythm and the attacks of the roaring strings for more variety and to give contrast and depth.
To this effect the following Lacrimas Profundere means an enhancement. Even they call the poses and wild show the mother of performance, too. The band looks back on a lot of experience and knows how to slaughter 45 minutes not only to present satisfaction and fun to their fans but even to convince somebody, who isn’t primarily interested into their music. They do it really well and strong. The heat in the hall rises. After the show a phase of rebuild: the festivals banners get changed to new ones for the forthcoming headliner – the Deathstars.
Most seem to have waited for them. Suddenly the hall is crowded. And – you might love or hate them – live the Swedish Stars of Death are killers. They have one hour, and in this time they rock the stage as if it would be the last time in their life. The singer interrupts from time to time the boiling bowl with dark, sonorous tales that give some rest to his band and holes of silence so the bursting music even sounds more tremendous. They are able to build up a bow of excitement from the beginning on to the foaming end and shoot more than enough adrenalin into the people. Not to take it so much seriously, but therefore a very entertaining show. Hammer.
After this the Diary Of Dreams, who are – as is well known – more in quiet zones at home, could have a difficult position to finish the festival. In fact, many guests already leave the room; it becomes calmer. Instead of raging show-rockers the gloomy sound of Adrian Hates starts to float, who lonesome just accompanied by guitarist Gaun:A stays under the limelight; in the background nearly unseen drummer and keyboard-player. An enormous difference compared with the spectacle before, but just because of this so effective! In the beginning especially reserved he tries to pull the Deathstars-hypnotized audience into his own world – and it works. The dark intensity lures the guests; the hall gets filled again. After some tracks from his new album Adrian unstraps his guitar, because now he offers the more driving, electronic songs which blow away the melancholy and push movement into the people, who start to dance again, to cheer and to ask for several encores. Andreas Torneberg