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NME 19-Feb-05 : Brixton Review

Venue: Brixton Carling Academy
Date: Thursday, February 3

Flamethrowers, huge vaginas and lederhosen - welcome to the greatest live show in the world.

What happens.
Want to know what it's like at a Rammstein gig. Well, the photographers shooting the show tonight are required to sign a disclaimer stating that any injury sustained from exposure to the stage show is not the band's responsibility. Every so often a roadie, standing in the pit at the front of the stage, guides the snappers a couple of feet back, as flames explode into the air and out into the crowd. Even so, NME's snapper ends the evening with a bright red face that's mildly burnt and totally lacking eyebrows.

The stage set tonight looks like an alien landscape. The drum riser stands 20 feet from the floor and rests on a platform that's actually an image of a vagina. The band themselves are lowered from the top of the stage to the bottom on mechanical lifts (only one of which breaks). Rammstein appear before us in a semi-naked state; some of the members are covered with the kind of body paint that gives the impression that they are fully naked. Every so often they will don flamethrowers and toss fire all over the shop. On two occasions vocalist Till Lindemann wears a face mask that blows fire over the heads of the crowd, and still manages to sing at the same time. The effect would be even more remarkable if he didn't look so much like Spandau Ballet's Tony Hadley.

How cool, how ridiculous, does this all sound? Well it is, but it's also more. Rammstein - an outfit who grew up on the wrong side of the Berlin Wall - have taken the heavy metal experience and made something smart and knowing out of it. Just about the only words sung in English this evening are 'we all live in America, Coca Cola, Wonderbra', which does little to alleviate the sense of mystique that crowds this band. Their audience - a true cross section of the gig-going public, by the way - are totally enthralled throughout. It doesn't matter that the ticket price is £25. Rammstein are playing here for three nights, each of which is sold out.

The best part of a remarkable evening comes during 'Mein Tell', a song based on the true story of a Berliner who ate another Berliner he met through the internet (after advertising for 'a victim'). Here we see Lindemann throwing flames at a giant cooking pot - with a man in it, by the way - and singing through a mic shaped like a knife. It sounds too daft to laugh at, until you consider the English translation of the lyrics. About how the narrator is looking for 'a well-built 18 to 30-year- old to slaughter', and how he'll 'drink wine' with his meal because, after all, 'you've got to have some culture'
And you've got to have some class too. Luckily, Rammstein have both.

What this means.
Whatever you want it to mean. Rammstein can be a great night out or simply so much dumb metal schlock. But the beauty of this left-leaning, proletarian collective is that they work on all manner of levels, the best of which don't leap immediately to mind.
Ian Winwood.

© 2005 Sue Lindemann