Dynamo '97 Featuring Slo Burn
Friday
The sun is out, Dynamo awaits proceedings to begin, and the Terrorizer crew undergo the first crisis of the weekend (don't ask). Diverting our attention, Sundown (Tiamat relatives by way of bassist Johnny Hagel, the former ironically closing DOA 97) prove adept Paradise Lost wannabees, and provide a pleasant, undemanding start to proceedings [RO]. Following rapidly on, and continuing the Goff Metull theme, local boys-and-girl Within Temptation offer up their own homage to the festival headliners Tiamat, mixing this in with a frontwoman who can only be described as a petulant Rapunzel, headbanging and hair-twirling while wearing a wedding dress. Cynical wits have already named the Dutch sextet Without Imagination way before the end of the set. Keaton we collectively manage to miss (it happens), while Totenmond's label owe us money (as also happens), so we can't say nuffink there. Skinlab, meanwhile, you know about, we've told you about, and they rock their stuff, even with drummer Paul hobbling about with a sprained tendon and a pair of crutches.
For all their similarities, Coal Chamber prove a far more interesting act than Korn. Dez compels as a frontman, Rayna's rag-doll thrashings marks her out as a disconnected enigma, and the fact that guitarist Meegs must tiptoe to reach his mic raises a chuckle, almost at the exense of spotting those somewhat Monster Magnet guitar licks. Behind them, Mike Cox turns in fautless drumming, delivered with the power of a steamhammer. A little unready for a stage this size, and an unkind sound doing little to help, this won't go down as their finest hour. Days later in London, they impress far more; but maybe, up against the cream of the European crop, they are just another reasonable proposition [RO].
Finland's Sentenced, as some of you may remember from back in issue 36, gave all sorts of stick to Da Ed because he didn't quite cotton to the idea of getting drunk with them at 10 a.m. Tonight, both him and myself are more than making up for such lightweight behaviour, and all because Sentenced did their Retro-Riff-Metal thing with such groove and enthusiasm that it was impossible not to get sucked in. Vocalist Ville Laihalla bounces around the stage like a human jumping bean, and guitarist Miika Tenkula matches him while churning out the riffs. These guys could challenge Stuck Mojo for stage athleticism honors, which is downright amazing when you consider their alcohol intake.
You'd think that a cover of 'The Trooper' would be unthinkable and unworkable today. Wrong. It just makes the crowd go even more nuts. Oh, by the way, Da Ed was wrecked by the end of the set too, having been fed beer after beer by the also-tanked Rhys Fulber. It got a bit hazy after this... [AC]
A storm subsides above Eindhoven, and the tent fills. The unbridled anticipation is almost discernible in the heavy, moisy night air. Striding on, clad in rubber suit and mask, figurehead Vorph begins by leading Samael through 'Son Of Earth' and an apt 'Rain', while struggling with all manner of technical problems. The Swiss band ride out this particular storm, and soon slip into their refined splendour.
As the tribal beat of 'Jupiterian Vibe' takes a grip, Vorph caresses the air and sways in time with the music, in his own ecstasy. Displaying a sublime poise and control, he is the archetypal dictator, dripping charisma, adeptly holding a public transfixed in awe. The composure and assurance extends throughout the band, so much so that once locked into their ritual manifest, their faces do not re-appear until the end. The quartet march on relentlessly with purpose and totality, taking in the trance-Metal crush of 'The Ones', and the haunting, selfish, unrepentant tones of their art, before Vorph bows in gratitude and leaves the stage. With Laibach's hauteur and their very own sheer majesty, Samael have married Industrial, Black Metal and the avantgarde in a glorious union. They're approaching a critical mass: be part of the meltdown [RO].
After what has gone before, Therion provide an altogether more lighthearted contrast. They also get full marks for full audacity. Metal and Opera probably weren't meant to go together, but Therion have tried it and made it work to a point. The tenors, sopranos, folk guitars and opera create an almost surreal, and pleasant enough experience, but one can't help but feel aggrieved that Tool didn't take the stage afterwards, like they were meant to [RO].
Saturday
Opening acts at festivals rarely get much of a response (unless it's Stuck Mojo last year at this exact same time), and Limp Bizkit do their damndest to belie this, and their name, with their LA-style crunch-rock-HipHop, but unfortunately, the sun has returned, and about all that they belie is their name. Slo Burn, however, are the perfect band to play out in front of a crowd whose brains are rapidly becoming sun-dried. While this is no 'Spaceship Landing' yet, it will soon become a thing of awe [NT].
From the shady confines of the main stage, Entombed blast off from the 'Star Wars' intro tape into 'Out of Hand', issuing a loud wakeup call to anyone who hadn't been previously roused by Slo Burn. Entombed are a classic Dynamo band, being Metal, Metal, and more Metal, making their announcement that this is their first appearance at Dynamo all the more strange. The older material mixes nicely with the new stuff from 'To Ride...', Death Metal and Death 'n' Roll walking side by side, bulletbelt with beer gut. Only the oppressive heat keeps it from being even more enjoyable.
Amorphis benefited greatly from the momentum churned up by Entombed. Opening with 'In the Beginning', the set was almost evenly split between material from '...Thousand Lakes' and 'Elegy', with one highlight their cover of Hawkwind's 'Levitation', a band that actually has a substantial influence on this Finnish sextet.The material from 'Elegy' was much heavier live, as the keyboards weren't as high in the mix and the guitars had a bit more distortion that usual, but ask if it sounds better than the CD and the answer would be six of one and half dozen of the other. A definite highlight of the weekend. Amorphis rule [AC].
Moonspell are up against it. They desperately strugfgle to bring anything more than a rudimentary vitality to the elaborate, intricate qualities of their songs, and it is a painful sight. With their grandeur completely lost, and hit a hint of dusk approaching, their litanies of erotica and faith fail miserably today. However, each time Moonspell sets have deceived, their albums have never failed to restore faith. Talking of albums, when 'Another Lesson In Violence' arrived, the first thing I did was seek out my old, gnarled, vinyl copy of 'Bonded By Blood'. And after that, it was three days of Exodus, Testament, Sacred Reich, Sabbat and Nuclear Assault. A mighty fine pleasure. Gary Holt and co. have a set of grins that tell their own story, and they ream off a stream of classics for our delectation, all done with panache. If not for Paul Baloff's vocals, which grate now as they did then, and his buffonlike, insipid banter, it'd all have been even greater. But this performance amounted to a single, continuous adrenaline rush, and who cares how long this incarnation lasts for? [RO]
Never ones to refuse a gig, Karma To Burn decided to take the 9pm slot on the skate stage, despite their slot on the main stage tomorrow afternoon. But since it wasn't a planned gig, they decided to use the time to indulge themselves (and us) a bit by doing some public jamming with the man who almost became their singer, Slo Burn's John Garcia. The only downside to this was having to walk out on Sick of it All after 10 minutes. Damn.
They took the stage to a crowd of maybe 150 people, most of whom were found backstage a little while ago. Somehow no public announcement about this had been made, and that was a lot of people's loss. KTB spent 35 minutes ripping through instrumental versions (the way the band meant them to be heard) of unreleased material, playing only two songs from the album. Garcia was finally summoned to the mike, and improvised lyrics to two more unreleased songs, wailing away as only he can, and the set closed with the song formerly known as 'Waltz of the Playboy Pallbearers', now a completely different song with Garcia's vocals and phrasing. Another high point of the weekend, to the point where I was distracted and unable to focus completely on Machine Head's set [AC].
Back in the main arena, it's now time for Type O Negative, and time for an almighty crush to exit from backstage into the swollen crowd. It's maybe unfortunate that we've been way, way too overexposed to the band, and that club shows have presented a static four-piece with little in the way of visual interest. When they played in 1995, I couldn't see jackshit for the smoke and lighting. This year, I can't see jackshit because I can't get past the scrum. No matter. It sounded amazing [NT].
Black Metal Stage
Ensconsced in the tent once more, it's my misfortune to miss Entombed and Amorphis, not to mention a nonappearing Dissection, whose bassplayer chose to leave a week previous and thus prevents the Swedes from blowing us all away. This also causes running order problems, meaning that two Dutch bands, Goddess Of Desire and Occult, face off against two Norwegian crews, Dimmu Borgir and Satyricon. The less said about Goddess of Desire, the better. They are not True and they are not much cop. Occult, drafted in at the last minute, do better, with their twin male/female vocal assault, and their essentially Death Metal kick. But then, they are not True, either, even if they remain one of the more intriguing European underground names.
Dimmu Borgir have also lost a member, albeit temporarily, as their keyboard player (along with his ridiculous top hat) got stuck on the ferry from Norway, and this immediately removes half of the band's considerable melodic talent from the live picture. But my suspicions are confirmed: Dimmu are potentially immensely powerful live. Shagrath, foot on monitor, blood streaming down his face and chest, spiked hedgehog armbands clutched close around the mike, is the kind of frontman who'll have audiences eating out of his palm before too long, while the band have a heaviness and fluidity which belies the clichéd image of Black Metal as nothing more than a blur. When they come over as guests of Cradle Of Filth this autumn, be sure to be there.
Whether or not Satyricon ever make it over to Britain, I can now say that I probably wouldn't be there myself. Though the massed Germans complete Satyr's words as he announces 'Mother North', and though 'Nemesis Divina' is rightly highly regarded as one of the better Black Metal albums of last year, I just don't get it. Each component part is, to be frank, weaker than those of other bands - Abigor have a better drummer, Emperor better guitarists, Cradle better keyboards - and it's highly debatable as to whether it really, True-ly coalesces. There is an aura of sorts here, but me, I'm not captivated. And in that respect, Satyricon's set is much like the whole stage's efforts: just nowhere near as impressive as it ought to have been [NT].
Sunday
Unfortunately for Laberinto, it's raining. And thus their Salsa-Metal party vibe just does not work today, their Slayer-meets-Sao Paulo carnival failing to ignite. They remain an arresting diversion, but... another time. Karma To Burn appear once more, this time in front of around one hundred times more people than their previous night's secret set. But hey! You know what we think of Karma.
Cradle Of Filth follow on and just about survive the muddy sound and the audience in the increasingly muddy field, who later on are to take to hurling mud-bombs stage left, right and centre. And, it has to be said, daylight suits them,. bringing out their intrinsic Metalness, as Gian and Stuart go heads-down and all-out, the guitars preventing any repeat of the disasters of yesterday's Black Metal stage [NT].
Following yesterday's Exodus set, the Bay Area makes another reapperence with Testament, who make their return to Europe with a rejuvenated attiude and a far more agressive vocal attack from Chuck Billy, who uses a lower-piched Death Metal growl for the new material on the just-released 'Demonic'. But since that album was still four weeks away, they did a mere two songs from the new release. Instead, the set stuck to the two-guitar-led, tried and true classics. No bullshit and tons of conviction make Testament a band to check out when they make their UK return [AC].
When Helmet played at Reading in 1994, they seemed a particularly uninspiring outfit to watch at a festival. This time around, there's the contrast of a London show a few days later, where they devastate the LA2, those commanding, mighty riffs of brute simplicity erupting from the speakers, bouncing and recoiling around the four walls of the packed club. There's an irrepressible grind about Helmet's minimalism, and when it works, it's almost serene in its beauty. But it just doesn't work in a field [RO].
"You can't even aim straight! You keep missing!" A mud pie sails that very instant, and lands square on Marilyn Manson's forehead. A brief tantrum later, a superbly antagonistic performance is resumed. The band may be over-hyped, over here and overly lightweight in their sound, but to watch Marilyn Manson live is to take in a consummate bunch of showmen (or, rather, showtransvestites). Shame, then, that they seem afraid to rock any harder, the Nine Inch Nails connections corrupting a sound which could have been as cool as Jane's Addiction once were. But alas, there is nothing musically shocking here, and a collection of screaming marionettes is all they remain. By contrast, Korn look shit and play quite well, when they can be bothered to remember that we were all interested in the first album because it was lead-heavy, and not in the noodly Funk/HipHop nonsense they have decided to inflict on us these days. As it stands, Rage Against The Machine are actually more extreme than Korn seem to be at the moment. Take time off, now, or you will die as a band [NT].
Three days, some sun, a lot of rain and a total of 46 bands later, we've come to the end of another Dynamo. Tiamat are preparing to close the festival, and it'll be their first performance since releasing 'A Deeper Kind Of Slumber'. They can either live up to their billing, or fall flat on their faces. The pressure is on.
Setting the tone for an atmospheric set, Tiamat usher themselves in under a sea of lights, and their bodies licked with the glowing embers of paint. 'Only In My Tears It Lasts' and 'Wildhoney' are unveiled early on, and both are dealt a very poor hand by the soundman, as kaleidescopic images appear on the backdrop. 'Phantasma De Luxe' picks the set up off the floor, before 'The Desolate One' and 'Cold Seed' herald an upturn which see's Edlund's silken delivery begin to perform, and the band find their stride without looking back.
Tonight, they do enough. There's talk of supporting Depeche Mode; a meeting once more, in say six months, would see them do a whole lot more. They encore with 'Do You Dream Of Me?', before Four Leary Biscuits serves as the perfect aimless wander, enticing matters to a close [RO].
Words by Terrorizer