Du hast tickets

On Wednesday, July 18th, Rammstein played at the Hammerstein Ballroom, and >Conny and I were there.

I haven't gone to a concert with general admission before. The show was scheduled to start at 8 p.m. Assuming the worst, and wanting a good seat, we left for the show around 7. The concert hall is only a few blocks away, perhaps a 10 minute walk. We're heading out the door, and Conny is holding a sweater.

"You're not going to need that." It's July, after all.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Of course. When have you ever been cold at a concert?"

She concurs, and leaves the sweater behind.

We head to the elevator. "If you are cold during this concert, I'll eat my hat."

The walk to the Hammerstein Ballroom is short and sweet. It's a perfect summer evening, really. The humidity is low, the air is warm, and there's a slight breeze. As we get closer to the concert venue, the amount of people dressed in black begins to increase. We, of course, are dressed likewise.

I have to collect my tickets from the "Will-call" desk since I got them at the last minute. Because of this, I manage to avoid getting patted down. Too bad I left my camera, my bottle of vodka and my gun at home.

Our tickets are for the balcony, not the floor. This turns out to be a good thing for this old man and his date, since the Hammerstein Ballroom has no seats on the floor. Seats, you see, would interfere in moshing. The view from the balcony is also really good, and due to our early arrival, we get excellent seats.

"It's kind of cold in here," Conny says.

She's right, actually. The air conditioning is pretty heavy. No worries, I tell her, I'm sure it will warm up. Once the show is underway and all those bodies down below are moving en masse, I bet it gets toasty. They are probably just trying to prepare for the inevitable surge of body heat.

It occurs to us that there may be an opening act, but the ticket stub yields no clues. Sure enough, at 8PM, the house lights go down, and a bunch of guys in black outfits with fluorescent blinking tubes come on stage. We now understand why weirdo massive black lights were up there.

Neither of us have seen Rammstein before. I don't even know how many guys are in the band, though Conny tells me she thinks there are six guys. So, we're not sure if this is them or not. We're pretty sure it's not them. The sound quality is pretty poor, so we can't even tell if the guy is singing in English or German.

Half way through the first song, it's pretty clear this has got to be an opening band. After the first song, when the lead signer starts talking, there's no doubt. It also explains the pretty lukewarm reception from the audience. Though, in fairness, the people on the floor seem to be moving rather vigorously to the music.

It turns out this is Crossbreed. It also turns out the lead singers favorite word is "fucking," as in "during this next fucking song I want all you fucking people in the fucking pit to fucking throw yourselves at each other as hard as you fucking can." I'm sure the lyrics of their songs are almost as poetic.

The band squeezed out pretty standard issue hardcore head banging type of music during their set. From our vantage point we can see the activity on the floor really well. Moshing, when seen from above and at a distance, looks like brawling. A lot like brawling. In the middle of this mass of people a circle has opened up, and within it, people are throwing themselves at each other. There's lots of pushing and arms being flailed around. Two years ago, I wouldn't have understood the appeal. Now, I get it. I'm still glad I'm in the balcony, though. While I might appreciate those who enjoy moshing, I'm content to observe from a safe distance. I am an old man, after all. I don't want to break a hip or anything.

And then there's the crowd surfing. Every now and then, a body is somehow launched above the other people on the floor, and this person coasts around on the packed people below. Inevitably, they are directed towards the stage. This explains the presence of a line of huge security guys buffering the stage from the crowd. Every time one of the surfers gets near the front, the security guy wades in and singlehandedly grabs the surfer and pulls him down. The ex-surfer is firmly escorted away from the stage, over to the side, to reenter the crowd at the floor.

I cannot understate how massive these guys were. Each one was about 3 times the size of a normal person. Seeing one person of this magnitude is impressive, but seeing a line of ten of them leaves a lasting impression.

After 45 minutes, the warm up band left the stage, having failed to actually warm up the air. If anything, it had actually gotten colder. We sat huddled for warmth in our seats as they got the stage ready for Rammstein.

"I thought you said it would be warm," Conny says. At this point, I'm glad I actually don't own a hat, although I'd be warmer if I was wearing one.

At 9PM, promptly, like a good punctual German band should, the lights went down. Moody sound was pumped into the darkness, building up what was sure to be a dramatic entrance. Rammstein is well known for outrageous shows, with fire and explosions playing a large role.

Spot lights come up, revealing three people on stage, and they kick off the first song. The sound is better than the first act, but the lead singer's microphone isn't mixed well. You can't hear him.

"Is this them?" I ask Conny.

She has a dubious look. "I don't know. Doesn't sound like them."

Could there be two opening acts?

Finally, the lead singer gets louder. Louder, and he's singing in English.

"This is English!" Conny says. After another two songs, both in English, Conny is looking discouraged and confused.

"Maybe the new album is in English?" I ask, naively.

"I heard some of the new songs, they were not in English," she says.

It takes us another 45 minutes to get our answer for sure. It is another opening act. It's the band Godhead. When the lights come up, after they clear the stage, we are relieved. Relieved, but cold as hell.

It is getting colder. A lot colder.

With the house lights up, I look around us. The air conditioning is so strong in the balcony that people's hair is blowing. I don't mean moving a little bit, I mean blowing wildly. I hold up a stiff advertising postcard in this frosty indoor gale, and it bends, almost in half. There are people around us bundled up in jackets and sweaters, their arms wrapped around them.

It takes awhile for them to set the stage up for Rammstein. During this, I'm trying to teach Conny how to do isometric exercises to keep warm. She's not buying it.

"I'm fucking freezing!" Conny says. Unfortunately, I have to agree with her. It's really, really uncomfortable. Maybe they are trying to sell sweatshirts at the concession stand, or perhaps there's an overstock on official Rammstein concert down jackets. At this point, I'm looking around for kindling to start a fire.

I tell her to watch our seats, as I go look for a thermostat to destroy, or at least a person to complain to. At the bottom of the steps of the balcony, which is about 5 flights down, I encounter someone who must work there, because she tells me I have to stay upstairs (the show allows no re-entry.)

"I don't have a problem with staying upstairs, but someone is trying to kill everyone up there by freezing them to death. I thought you should know, because you are going to need to get ambulances here to treat dozens of people for frostbite."

At first, she finds this a bit amusing.

"I'm serious. I have never been so uncomfortable at a concert in my life. People are huddled together for warmth. The air conditioning is blowing a gale force. It's ridiculous. It's so bad we may be forced to leave, because we cannot enjoy the show. Go upstairs and look at how miserable people are. I think it's actually starting to snow up there."

She informs me that while it may be cold upstairs, on the floor, it's very hot. Like people who are moshing are going to be put out by perspiring.

"At least those people can sweat. Our only option on the balcony is to build a fire. You decide which is the lesser of two evils. I'm going back upstairs now, because my girlfriend has my lighter."

I return upstairs, at least having said my peace. Conny and I commiserate with our fellow thermal refugees sitting around us. We hold each other as best we can, and try to fight off the unconsciousness that comes before hypothermia takes hold.

And then a miracle happened. The air conditioning stopped.

I kid you not, everyone in the balcony applauded and cheered. I'm sure the people on the floor were confused by the sudden outburst from the people above, since nothing was taking place on stage other than roadies setting things up. I guess enough people complained/threatened violence/suggested litigation that the management realized that enough was enough.

To top it off, the lights went down, and Rammstein finally came on stage. From that point forward, the show was a complete and utter delight. Rammstein lived up to their reputation. Lots of shit blowing up, people on fire, spraying fire, microphones on fire, and guitars shooting jets of fire. The lighting effects were great, and the sound was loud, powerful and clear, without being overwhelming. Never mind that the music itself is tons of head banging fun, and Rammstein's stage presence was amazing. The folks on the floor were jumping around, throwing themselves into each other and generally going berzerk. I've enjoyed a lot of concerts, but I had a shit load of fun at this one.

During "Du Hast", every time the choir sound was played, six giant gas jets behind the band would emit these 15 foot tall flames. From all the way in our balcony seats, 5 stories high and at the back of the hall, we could feel the heat. And let me tell you, the heat felt good.
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