Meat fiesta in Antwerpen (report).

Winter. This cycle of annual motion and evolution affects all living cells of this planet. Cuddly and playful snow which was initially so much looked for is gradually becoming tragically sorrowful stimulus of elegiac nostalgia. Nothing changes as if the time has frozen, wherever you glance to you see the same movie starring the snow… Monotony of the surroundings affects the direction of thoughts by leading them into far-reaching obscure memories while the ever-increasing sorrow swallows the last hope.

Back at the end of December my hearing receptors were more and more surprised by calm melodies. In the middle of January almost all covers of extreme electronic CDs were covered with dust of oblivion. While covers of Gregorian chorals, “dark ambient”, and “industrial” albums have shook off their dust.

Having chanced upon the promotion of the festival a strange long-lost feeling arouse – a firm knowing that I will be there. Over a month was remaining before the COLD MEAT INDUSTRY festival, and during this period the unbearable depression was trespassing deeper into my soul. Three days before the festival I managed to book a hotel, two days before the festival I quit my job and one day to the festival I was on a bus. “Concert starts at 16 o’clock in Antwerp, if everything goes well I will be at 11”, - I thought calmly and  indifferently looking at gray strip of the road running outside window having crossed the LT/PL border, and my thoughts drifted with winds of the book I was reading.

We entered Germany with dawn. Same calm thought that everything is going well and according to the schedule visited my overslept consciousness and I doze off again. When I again opened my eyes, we still were in Germany. We entered Belgium in a couple of hours. The moments I had once experienced there surfaced my imagination.

With 80 km remaining to Antwerp it was already 12 o’clock. Although we were late, I felt calm and keeping up with schedule. As I was drinking coffee and chatting with stewardess, the bus was stopped by the Belgian police. I was sitting behind the curtain of the driver’s cabin. Listening to the “700-euros-fine” monologue of the policeman and seeing that the doggone Belgian didn’t allow to say the word I decided to intervene.

The policeman was speechless when I introduced myself as a lawyer of “Eurolines” (whose legal knowledge ran no further than the test on basics of law taken last winter semester). Getting back his grip he started explaining his old demands that were far away from truth. When I asked to show the badge I was immediately handcuffed. There is no need describing what happened next, but the fact is that a certain amount of time was wasted. At 16:30 I was in Antwerp, the hotel was in the center thus after a several-minute running distance I was at the registration desk. As the desk officer was doing the paperwork I was surveying the hotel’s interior and suddenly I found information about CMI and an elaborate explanation of getting there. “Have you also come for the concert? There is a lot of your kind in the hotel today”, - commented he giving me the card with room code. I asked to call taxi in half an hour.

On my way I knew that I missed proiekt hat, and filled with hatred of the aplombish policeman I was hoping to get on time for the protagonist.

As I entered the theatre all the events of today disappeared. I was suddenly griped with a feeling of a fairy tale which unlike many other fairy tales was not going to have a happy and bright ending. In the lounge I was greeted by two pleasant knight-like lads, one of whom places an azure bracelet of the festival, while the other sees me to the coat check attentively where representatives of CMI organization are selling CDs and vinyls. All present there are smiling for some reason which gives an inner dissonance (we haven’t gathered here to celebrate Christmas, have we?). I was only hearing mystic sounds coming from somewhere, which were predominated by the immortal classics which was smoothly merging with “dark ambient”. Old and modern, sorrowful and hosanna music was coming from above. I started running and was only not hearing but also not seeing the people around me. The bell of dark memories echoing from the ancient past. As I ran up the stairs I saw an installation. It must have been scenes from another vampire movie created after Nosferatu, which were in perfect harmony then and there. The installation ends, love scene lingers on after which only an unbearable longing remains. Magnus Sundstrom The Protagonist.

Upon switching on the blinding light as if entering the field covered by snow, the eyes are closed automatically. However, the reluctance to open them was beyond my will, so I stayed with my eyes shut. As I had woken up as if I was sleeping for a hundred years, I saw that the hall was nearly empty. Those who remain sitting were either unable to come into senses or unwilling to loose their comfortable seats. These violet seats triggered the sneaking dismay. The number of sitting places was around 700, maybe 1000. Although the hall was large and high-ceiling, still there was a lack of space. Totally used to the light I get up and went down to the hall. Chaotic environment, people buzzing like bees in a hive were tumbling around and smiling again weirdly. I discovered another new stairs leading down to the bar. Having one cold beer emptied I felt even more sober. As the first warning bell had rung, I caught the last breath of fresh air. Going upstairs to the acting hall I met Peter Anderson – the true smile flashed for the first time over these days. Lina Baby Doll – Deutsch Nepal – emerged on the stage. Then the true smile brightened my face for the second and the last time during this evening. Hard and hypnotic industrial music overwhelmed the entire hall. Having the beer sipped Lina began to sing quietly. When listening to such paranoid lyrics, you can easily pass the moment of hurricane rising in the music, the storm inflaming the physical desire. Then Lina’s voice – no longer silent. Deutsch Nepal becomes a tranquility and (or) storm. The last words of the last song – “tonight you will die” – exposed the choice to everybody: to run away (from truth) or to stay.

Same chaos in the hall as if nothing had changed. During the break, I was studying the CDs on sale.

Familiar killing “ambient” atmosphere of Raison D’etre, the sounds of hard (severe) impacts. Background – the rusted ship. Massive and spacious, old and magnificent ship, being voiceless, says everything it is aware of. And the music shocking the mind for its tranquility seemed even harder than the brutal “power” – perhaps (I haven’t analysed that as I wasn’t simply aimed at such examination).

Brighter Death Now. Three men appeared on the stage: Lina, Roger and Jacobs. When Jacobs had turned on the music, the atmospheric crudity, ferocity and pressure diffused through the hall. Roger, acting as a doctor, forced Lina to lie on surgery board (experimental). Though being without his pants, Lina succeeded to escape. Destructive, cruel “noise” complemented by Lina using the aggressive (rebellious) sounds of electro guitar. Brutal installations were filtering the reality. Third or even half of the audience ran away – they couldn’t afford to hold such hard music combined with information conveyed by the savage war scenes. I won’t report on the subsequent performance of BDN. Still the argument made by Lashisha (see, the review of Heilige Feuer 5) on the show, the success of which is determined by the factor of acting, was proved out. BDN performance was the highlight in this festival, which forced us, being shocked, to hustle up for some beer.

(Actually, during the entire performance, I was annoyed for only sitting places were mounted for the audience, giving an opportunity for them to sit comfortably and to observe the performance. As it was the festival you need to be involved in, but not simply follow with the judging glances (nearly lying on these seats). That was the main atmospheric barrier. It was noticeable that all performers were annoyed and bothered of it).

It was Shinjuku Thief’s turn. Perhaps at that moment I was unable to perceive nothing, but I wasn’t fascinated, wondered or overcome by some other feeling about this project. Audio and video art seemed too modern for me as if certain stereotyped computer game. Although upon the end of performance, screwy crowd had thrown themselves at the CDs for sale like the pack of starveling wolves.

The last honourable quest of this evening – Coph Nia. As I lived to see the new fans of Shinjuku Thief had purchased the desirable albums, I step up to the CDs. I was tracing them for a long time and I didn’t hear the bell was ringing. Still I hadn’t made any decision yet – I wanted all of them. Suddenly, as I had spotted the “Natural selection” of CONTROL I even exclaimed by dragging this CD close to my hart. Other saleable CDs tallied with the style of the latter. Coph Nia! – one more hail and psychopathic rush upstairs. I had to admit, I didn’t expect such an effective performance. Several times I was listening to the “Holly war” of Coph Nia, but now their live “industrial”, being grotesque and tragic, which sounded much harder accompanied by the lyrics yelled by Coph Nia, now whispered, now sung by the girl and concentrated on the historical mistakes of humankind, gradually reincarnated to the “ritual industrial”.

I spend another day at the hotel. As the night had fallen, I went to the city feeling like a vampire fearful of the day-light. There was nothing I was attracted to. I felt neither rapture, nor disappointment…– Nothing at all. In the morning, my friend Nicholas suggested to visit Brussels. Formerly deeply beloved, now it was just a grey city.

Still I could not manage to formulate the last sentence outlining the main point of this article (composed for the COLD MEAT INDUSTRY festival). Perhaps, for the words are too vain to outline this point. Or perhaps, for there is no point or sense. I leave it to your judgment.

Written by: Geli, 12-03-05 translated by Ruta Muller