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Witnessed
Tuska Open Air Metal Festival 2010, Finland: Day 1
24/09/10 || MikzorTheFirst
Who: Me… and a bunch of bands, but most importantly me. Also, a coffee loving alien.
Where: Hell’s Sink, which is not in Hell’s Kitchen.
When: July 2, 2010.
I woke up at 11:03. I know this because my eyes were open, I was aware of my surroundings and the clock in my cell phone revealed that the time was 11:03. There’s nothing worthy of mentioning about that. What is it with people and time anyway? I pondered over this matter for a while, until I had reached several wholly agreeable conclusions. High on the joys of discovery, I presented my various theories to a friend, one who would join me for the upcoming merriment. After going through the details and a few healthy arguments I realized I still had to travel to the train station to actually meet this particular friend. I had a good chuckle at the hilarious misunderstanding, wrote a great script for a sit-com about it and stepped on the road. In reality I stepped on a bus. Let’s not get carried away by that. In that bus, I was surprised to see an old friend of mine and sat down with him. Motherfucker hadn’t aged a day since kindergarten. I was jealous. I had a marvelous chat with Steve Irwin too.
By the time I met up with said friend (the one at the train station), I was getting psyched. The awareness of what I was so pumped about was a bit on/off in nature, but nevertheless I was looking forward to it. I was also starting to see sounds and hear shapes, which was a bit disorientating at first. However, slowly but surely the sleepy gray matter my partner-in-crime was spewing at me started to make more and more sense. Apparently I was an hour late. He also wondered how it came to be that he had had a lovely, although frustratingly unhelpful conversation with an elderly Eskimo lady in Alaska, when trying to reach me through my cell phone. I wasn’t entirely sure. Until now, I had also neglected him from the moment of my arrival some ten minutes ago. I heard the palm of his hand approaching my face long before the shockingly bright flash of red/white sprouted out of my chin as it connected.
Sooner or later we’d have to attend the actual event, so this story
can pick up, right? Well, with great effort, “later” finally arrived,
and we were inside the festival area. “Sooner” left to buy cigarettes
once when I was a kid and never came back.
My friend told me we we’re going to see Testament first. He spoke in
bright, sanguine red now, so evidently he was in a more bonhomous mood.
We strolled towards the big stage, pressing on through the masses of
longhaired old-schoolers sweating through their jeans jackets in the
summer heat. Navigating the seas of the sun, which would be a great pun
had we been seeing Dickinson, which we weren’t, so… Testament is a band
I’ve always meant to check on in more detail. I know that singer dude
fell ill, but ended up kicking uncle Morty in the nards, successfully
skipping the last family photo and returning to the stage hoping for
another ride on the ultimate tour bus to hell. I know they’ve rocked
through decades that I remember only from other people’s descriptive
conversations and went through a comeback-period during the more current
decade (that I also mostly remember from other people’s descriptive
conversations). I also know they rocked at Tuska, which I happen to
remember without the help of other people’s descriptive conversations.
The music was a blinding, hot white, scorching flame licking the appreciative faces of the gathered thrash-folks. Fast riff after riff assaulted my vicinity and mangled all doubters into a terminal state of feeling-like-a-stupid-jerk. Now and again a crystalline solo would burst off, soaring into the sky, overpowering the very sun as they went on into the universe to terrorize the great unknown. The seniors beamed, as I could hear the eager happiness to be on stage from their faces. Their smiles sounded in the midday air, like trumpets of war and the gleaming swords being drawn in an animated fantasy epic. I could hear or see my bones creaking and cracking in the massive moshpit, but my mind was too busy enjoying the inferno. I abruptly told my body to mind its own business for now. It mucked about for a bit, murmuring through its teeth something about a lawsuit.
Testament: 8/10
Next up was Insomnium. I soon realized that In- was gone and only the last three syllables were present, because their set was fatally sleepy. The songs were good and all, but I couldn’t feel the energy. Admittedly, had any stimuli been coming my way it would have soared me by, as I had at this point gotten profoundly confused as to which way it was supposed to go in and what to do with it once it was in proper place. All I could think of was pillows and hot chicks fighting with them. After a while I was astounded to see that their faces had turned into those of my mother. Why? I’d ask my therapist, but she won’t return my calls these days. These Freudian revelations startled me quite a bit and woke me up from my slumber, which got me all confuzzled about a number of things. How long had I been gone? Had I dreamed all of the above? Maybe all my life? I abruptly wandered off into shade of what I decided was a nearby Bodhi Tree and started a new religion.
Insomnium: 5/10
Beer.
This is also the part where I decided to get all of the rudimentary
festival-boning done with. It took a little longer than expected as I
went on to double my former record. Of course I can’t verify that these
objects of my raging libido were pretty, neither in fact if they were
animate objects to begin with.
My friend showed genuine concern and wondered where I had been. My
recalls were few and vague. The only clues I had were my lost underwear
and sense of self-worth. Before you duly note that I never had either,
I’ll have you know that I once gave myself a pep-talk, although I may
have sensed a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
I need to stop doing that.
Christ! How long is this thing going to be anyway? We went to see Swallow the Sun next. Their album “Hope” is an excellent exercise in what is the musical equivalent of a pair of big, round, soft, sweaty, heaving and perfectly natural testicl- boobs! I had however not caught up with their latest effort, and since the set mostly consisted of that material, things became less memorable. The band overcame that fact by simply being intense and providing us with an excellent show. How’s that for a proper show-coverage?
Swallow the Sun: 7,5/10
Now I was going to see Devin Townsend.
Let me rephrase that…
Now I was going to cum enough to raise the global sea-level.
Let’s make one thing clear from the get-go; when it comes to this
particular Canadian baldie, my bias is erect and growing for every day I
walk this supercomputer-disguised-as-planet’s surface and I’m going to
be about as subtle about it as a giant spaceship made of science and
evolution bombing the Vatican with aborted babies.
They played through the Ziltoid-album, and it was beautiful. The people were silenced, then aroused into a massive roar. The birds and the animals gathered around to marvel at the spectacle. The city of Helsinki fell into a trance. The oceans settled, the winds of the world were stilled. The universe itself shifted its weight as it lent its cosmic ears, and let out a long sight of approval. Holy men had culture-defining epiphanies and prophecies came true in trillions upon trillions of planets, galaxies and dimensions. There were fart-jokes.
I will Shredavada your ass until you Tripitaka! AUM for me motherfuckers!
I became one with my surroundings, the people, the wildlife, the
city, the oceans and the wind, the universe and the aforementioned
fart-jokes.
I became one with Devin and his band. No, really! I noticed at one point
that I couldn’t see him anymore. In fact, I couldn’t see any of the
stage’s occupants whatsoever, just a massive sea of eerily familiar
faces watching me. To my surprise, my hands weren’t in my pants anymore.
They were still very much busy, just as before, it’s just that they
were playing a guitar now. Also, there was a microphone that I was, more
or less, singing into.
I am unsure as to how I actually got up there, but sure enough that was the reality of things.
Devin Townsend: 10/10
After a rather foggy few undetermined points in time and space, I found myself on top of an immensely bulky hippo, lumbering forward at a moderate to astronomical pace. This part is especially puzzling, considering the fact that the festival is located in the middle of Helsinki, which is not known for its savannas. Riding the beast was a noble-looking tribesman, sitting silently, watching the road ahead. As a seasoned traveler of the world I immediately brought my attention to the blue war paint covering the entirety of his body, trying to determine his allegiance, which I interestingly enough couldn’t. He was looking pretty menacing and was obviously armed, so I thought it prudent to make it clear that I meant no harm. I offered my pipe as a token of our mutual understanding of the importance of nature in the workings of the universe, as well as my gratitude for the awesome hippo-ride. I smiled at him as he eagerly welcomed my offering. I found it surprising and honestly quite rude that he never gave it back, though.
