Your Last Concert
Out of context: Reply #767
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Agriculture, sweaty pot-boiler Ideal Bar / VEGA Copehnagen
'...this is a song about the ocean.'
Tawdry Oirish folk bores, Lankum, were playing next door on the big boy stage at the same time so the scene outside Vega was a mix of oatmeal linen ghouls comparing Birkenstocks and happy-go-lucky metal fans dressed in faded hardcore shirts comparing battle vests.
And by the end of the evening, we won.
As more people filled the small room the heat began to rise, simply shifting weight from one foot to another was enough to start pouring sweat and feel the bite of stomach cramps from not eating anything since 6am. Only the occasional puff of fresh air from the front door kept me upright.
First up were Nake. Local boys I believe, who come on wearing corpse paint and dressed as bandits from a Leone film. As good a start as you could possibly imagine. They piled into their brand of desert fuzz rock, via Escape-era John Carpenter synths and a mutant blend of ZZ Top and Sabbath. Check them out, they're great.
An interlude while Nake load out and people make for the exit to remind themselves what breathing used to feel like, then the giddy wait for Agriculture. They walk on, smile and thank everyone for being there, check their gear and...
ZANG!
Fire, fury, joy, and delight. A drummer almost dying from the heat, a guitarist who broke nearly all his strings from playing so hard, a singer that careened between lullabies and screaming rage, jokes about French hotdogs, and a set that was as breathless as the room itself.
A single song encore and it was over.
Both this and the Lankum show ended at the same time and the same people met again outside. The oatmeal army didn't know and would never know but the 100-or-so sweat-drenched champions, who were there for our love of the spiritual sound of ecstatic black metal by the band Agriculture, won.