Cradle of Filth came to Hamburg on the 16th of April to entertain the fish-heads; accompanied by Moonspell, Turisas and Akrival they were to rock our shorts off. Naturally one or two things went a bit wrong. The tour bus managed to arrive on time, but the bus with instruments got stuck at the French border, resulting in a 5-hour delay. This, in turn resulted in the gig being one hour late; one band less performed, and the others had to shorten their playlist. However, the gig was still great.
Akrival suffered the worst blow with their entire act being cancelled. Turisas, however, preformed with their customary vigour and worked the crowd into a half-insane stupor. The thing with bands like Turisas is that their music speaks to the innermost barbarian of us all and gets huge reactions from the crowd. This, accompanied with their live playing prowess, produces great gigs. Being able to have the audience come up with their own beer song is a feat in itself. On the other hand, their fellow tourband members may feel slightly annoyed with hearing “ra-ra-Rasputin” almost every day.
Moonspell was a nice experience too. The nature of the bands performance differed from Turisas´. There where Turisas´ music is simpler –though their band incorporates a larger variety of instruments- Moonspell is more technical. All of the songs were preformed as skilfully as one would expect and the show itself was great.
There where Turisas was all about the feeling and Moonspell about the music, Cradle was a performance. A gimp-suited creature in the background was seemingly intent on trying to set some of the band members on fire with a spark-throwing gadget attached to its arm. The audience were treated some nice oldies, like “Dusk and her Embrace” and “Cruelty Brought Thee Orchids” and some songs from the new album. Just about all of the new tracks, like “The 13th Caesar” worked particularly well live. Furthermore, the new drummer, Martin Skaroupka had no problems with his first international tour and the appearance of their old guitarist, James McIlroy, felt like he had never left.
At 30 euros, the tickets may have seemed slightly expensive by Hamburg´s standards, but only a total twat could complain about what he got for his money.