A Chinese Canadian Metalhead's Experience in Russia (part 2)

Here we are (rock you like a hurricane...).

In a previous post about my time in Bergen, I expressed the sentiment that "home" could be anywhere for me, as long as there is a metal community. I find it interesting that Saint Petersburg is the place where this view is further validated.

After all, what could possibly be better than a damp, cold, cloudy city in a post-Soviet country with a bloody history and a dying belief in a "separate path" (Sonderweg much?) divorced from both Europe and Asia?

The answer, of course, is all of that plus 100% unadulterated, bone-crushing, face-melting, ear-splitting, soul-stirring metal music. Ask your physician before trying. Side effects may include inordinate happiness, excessive headbanging, outrageous levels of beer consumption, and encyclopedic knowledge of serial killers and Nazis (and nuclear apocalypses, and obscure historical battles, and the works of the great J.R.R.) bordering on unhealthy obsession. Not to mention an obnoxious tendency to inject the topic of metal into even the most tangentially related conversations.

Abandon thine eardrums, ye who enter here. (Yes, it's "thine", not "thy", because the immediately following word begins with a vowel.).

You've been warned.

How the Russian Metal was Tempered

As the esteemed and perspicacious reader may note, this section's title is a reference to a well-known socialist novel by Nikolai Ostrovsky. I didn't read it, there's no deep connection to that book, I just wanted to make a lame joke. You're welcome.

Anyway, before diving into an examination of my personal experiences so far with the metal subculture in St. P, a brief introduction to what I knew about Russian rock and metal before coming here can help to contextualize the information to follow.

To my eternal shame, my knowledge of Russian metal was quite lacking. Like many fans of folk metal, I first found my way to Arkona/Аркона. "От Сердца к Небу" ("From the Heart to the Sky") and "Одна" ("Alone") are badass songs that speak to the pagan Slav in all of us, and I still blast them regularly. This is the kind of music that makes you want to put a wreath on your head and dance around a fire to the sweet sound of a калюка into the wee hours of the night. With this band, every night can be Иван-Купала.

Beyond that, I was also infatuated with Russian atmospheric black metal, particularly the transcendental music of Elderwind. I can't adequately express, in any language I know, just how sublime it feels to lie down in a gloomy room and listen to the tranquil sound of mother nature's intrinsic darkness. This is the kind of music that drags you thousands of kilometers away from the trappings of civilization, gently lays you down in a snowy clearing in the vast Siberian forest, and speaks directly to the most primal parts of mind, body, heart, and soul.

Then, of course, we have national socialist black metal (henceforth NSBM). Russia is home to many of the world's neo-Nazis, and this has certainly been reflected in the metal subculture. If you can learn to divorce the lyrics from the music (which isn't hard since most people are too lazy to even try to understand metal lyrics anyway), Russian NSBM is actually quite good for what black metal is meant to be. Dissonant, torturous, grim, extreme. This is the kind of music that should make you want to slaughter communists and inferior races to protect white purity, but if you only listen to the music and not the lyrics, you'll probably just want to kill everybody indiscriminately. Not going to link any NSBM bands for reasons that should be obvious, but if you're that curious, feel free to listen to some Wolfkrieg.

Russia's avant-garde metal scene is also a wildly fascinating topic. The band Shrezzers (previously Shredding Brazzers) is best described as a progressive metal band that features clean singing that you would find in emo bands or alternative rock as well as a metalcore growl (for the less cultured crowd, this is "that Satanic shit with the screaming"). This is layered on top of guitar riffs and solos engineered expressly for the purpose of melting your face off, and - get this - a saxophone used very tastefully to add a sexy groove to it all. This is the kind of music that - well, I don't actually have a description for this one yet, but I aim to find one. They're based in St. Petersburg.

The purpose of this section has been to highlight the fact that Russia loves metal and is home to some amazing music that should be remembered and celebrated alongside the likes of Rachmaninoff, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, and Kalinnikov. Unfortunately, electronic music (grime in the UK, hardbass here in Russia, dubstep or the utter drivel they play at raves seemingly everywhere else) is king nowadays. Stravinsky is turning in his grave.

My Personal Experiences

So far, I've attended three metal concerts in St. P (yeah I know, those are rookie numbers, but the best is yet to come). Unfortunately they were all foreign bands, so I haven't gained any insight into differences, if any, between them and local bands. But I've had plenty of interaction with the Russian metalhead clan, and this is what interested me in the first place.

First was Necrophobic, the blackened death metal maestros from Sweden. Of course, this type of music attracts a very specific crowd everywhere it goes, and Russia is no exception. Most of the guys at this show looked like the type of person whose daily schedule consists of goat sacrifices in the morning, a nutritious brunch of human entrails, followed by leisurely church burnings in the afternoon and a relaxing evening devoted to musically worshipping our Lord and Saviour, Belial. I jest, of course. Partially.

What is important to note, however, is that I definitely found that sense of camaraderie I had missed so much. It seems that learning Russian is not the only way to overcome the language barrier. The number of fist-bumps, handshakes, and glances and grunts of approval from my Russian metalhead brothers and sisters finally made me feel at home. Even the blackest sheep in a family of black sheep is still...a black sheep. Sorry, no clever play on words here.

Necrophobic, Feb. 15, 2019 @ MOD Club. I'm in there somewhere.

Then, there was Tankard, the thrash metal veterans from Germany who have been writing songs about beer for 38 years. Yes, 38 years. The 90s failed to kill them with grunge (sorry, Kurt). The 2000s failed to kill them with emo pseudo-rock. The 2010s failed to kill them with pop punk and alt rock. Long may they reign. And drink.

As a sidenote, I have yet to see a German band who didn't blow me away. Scorpions, Blind Guardian, Kreator, and now Tankard - very different bands playing wildly different music, but all with a live presence that puts any new band from the last 10 years to shame. Must be that Teutonic blood that brought Rome to its knees.

Anyway, the Tankard show is where I had the most fun. The mosh pit was brutal and beautiful, and the beer flowed like there was a direct line to the Biergärten in München. At one point, I stopped moshing for a few minutes, and one Russian metalhead pulled me back into the madness as a brotherly gesture. Towards the end, I ended up in a line of very drunk and tired metalheads who grabbed each others' shoulders for support as we headbanged in unison. Pure magic.

The thrash metal breed is naturally an altogether different beast than Necrophobic fans. Lots of long, unkempt hair, lots of tattoos, lots of battle jackets covered in patches, lots of spikes, lots of swearing. In other words, the most blyatiful individuals to be found in Russia.

Tankard, Mar. 1, 2019 @ MOD Club. This was one for the history books.

I learned from some German friends that the name "Kevin" has certain connotations, specifically that they're uneducated and hopeless dregs of society. This is hilarious, because to me, a Canadian, Kevin is perhaps the nerdiest name possible. A German Kevin would be the bully to a Canadian Kevin's victim in a primary school playground. What was the point of this tangent? Well, basically, Tankard fans are the Kevins of the metal world. Both kinds. Because only an absolute child would be simple enough to associate long hair, tattoos, and a dirty mouth with intellectual deficiency.

After my body had sufficiently recovered (it wasn't easy), the next show was Amaranthe. I had seen them already in Bergen, and I remember being impressed at how well their simple gimmick worked. One female vocalist with a pop orientation, one male vocalist with power metal undertones, and another male vocalist with impressive growls, all spread over rather generic, but tight guitar, bass, and drum work. To be honest, I wasn't as impressed this time around. The music took a turn for the worse, with too much focus on Elize's soft vocals and not enough on Henrik's booming growls from the bowls of Hell. Too much Katy Perry, not enough Satan.

Amaranthe fans are again a completely different story than Necrophobic and Tankard fans. For one thing, at least half of the audience was female. Clothing was more casual. Nobody had battle jackets. Some had Amaranthe shirts. The guys had short hair. In other words, these were the metalheads that would be mistaken for a normal person if they walked down the street. Which would be a mistake, because there was nothing normal about the amount of energy they brought to this show.

Amaranthe, Mar. 12, 2019 @ ZAL.

The Verdict

Russian metalheads certainly know how to have a good time. 11/10, would headbang with them again. In fact, I most certainly will. Powerwolf, In Flames, Amorphis, and more are all coming.

The goal now is to find some local Russian metalheads, but they've remained elusive. I need to actually make friends with a Russian metalhead, and for that I have to improve my Russian.