The highly anticipated Stuka Squadron turned out to be more like Del Torro/Hogan’s ‘The Strain’ then I ever could have imagined.
Actually, due to tfl’s baffling decision to undertake ‘engineering works’ at London’s busiest times, it was exactly like reading The Strain because as Stuka Squadron goose stepped on stage, I was stuck underground attempting to calm my tube rage with said blood sucking literature.
Still, on the bright side, I most probably avoided a Blade style violent vampire takeover.
I met Mark at the station, and when we finally arrived at venue, Camden’s Underworld, I decided that a calming rum and diet coke was in order.
‘Erm… can I see your ID, please’
I have a wager with my mate Simon – who can be the oldest and still be asked for ID. As he is a year older, and was asked for ID a couple of weeks ago in Tesco - actually, by a man who then went on to emphasise that he definitely wouldn’t question my age, as I’m clearly an old boot – he is still winning.
It wasn’t hard to see why the bar man mistook me for a spritely seventeen year old, the average age of the Nighlord revellers was at least double mine. We approached the stage just in time to see second support, Hysterica, an all girl Swedish metal band.
I watched in awe as the singer swung their hair, pausing occasionally to roar. The keyboardist, who looked suspiciously like a character from Star Wars, dangerously flailed behind her instrument.
That could be your mum on bass. Mark said.
I considered the possibility that my mother may have finally fled Newcastle to realise her lifelong dream of joining a Swedish metal band, and hoped that if she did, she’d wear something a little more respectable than a PVC crop top.
A short break followed Hysterica, giving the crowd an opportunity to have a nice sit down.
The peace was broken by the ringing out of the Imperial March. I hoped that this was because my earlier assumptions were correct, and that Luke Skywalker’s foes were no longer residing in various intergalactic locations, but had pulled together to fight to the death in a Nightlord moshpit.
Turns out it was just the cue for Nightlord to take the stage.
‘Peter Sutcliffe, Sweeny Todd, Harold Shipman …’ began the singer
-I wonder where this is going-
‘…they all have one thing in common that helped them get to where they are today…
…and that is what this song is about…
For a more life experienced crowd, they were still pretty energetic; we’d chosen a spot slightly behind the rowdier part of the floor. This, however, would not be enough to protect me from enthusiastic classic metallers.
As I toe tapped along, minding my own business, I was shocked by a sharp jab to my side.
I looked to my left to see what kind of ruthless heathen would assault an innocent lady.
There stood a very apologetic looking man on crutches.
‘I’m so sorry, did I hit you? I’m really am sorry, I just get all over excited see…’
He punched the air with his crutch.
‘…that’s why I’m not allowed to go to these things anymore!’
I laughed and assured him that I was fine.
All in all, it was an eventful one. I was disappointed to miss the vampiric Stuka Squadron but the ‘walking aid’ assault and the constant fear of light sabre attack was quite enough terror for my Saturday evening.
Thanks, Del Toro, Hogan, Nightlord, Hysterica and Ents 24!