Rammstein thrills with tawdry brutality
THE scent of sulfur hung heavily in the air, the room cologned in the acrid tang of spent explosives.
Before the stage curtain even fell at T-mobile Arena on Saturday, the first pyro blasts were detonated.
Shortly thereafter, a refrigeratorsized German fellow issued a somewhat ominous command to the packed house: “Bück dich, America,” Rammstein frontman Till Lindeman sang in his native tongue, his words translating to “Bend over.”
“Gott weiß, ich will kein Engel sein,” (“God knows I don’t want to be an angel”), he added shortly thereafter.
Well, that last part wasn’t entirely true (he did sport a pair of firespewing cherub wings later in the show), but you get the gist: Like fellow hard-hitting, industrial-tinged acts such as Nine Inch Nails and Skinny Puppy, Rammstein’s catalog is frequently posited on themes of dominance and submission, pleasure and pain, and the thin line that separates them all.
The difference with Rammstein is they do so with a pronounced, knowing wink. Their sense of humor is as robust as Lindeman himself, whose stout physical bearing is akin to a couple of flesh-covered beer kegs stacked atop one another and whose lumbering, yet slapstick stage moves seem inspired by repeated viewings of “Abbott and Costello
Meet Frankenstein.”
Everything about this bunch is meant to overwhelm: sonically, they’re loud even by the cochleashriveling standards of the most overamped of metal bands. Guitarists Richard Z. Kruspe and Paul Landers enable Rammstein to plow through any language barriers with batteringram riffs, while Lindeman’s basso profoundo bellow and tongue-rolling lasciviousness add still more aplomb to songs that are simultaneously carnal and concussive.
Visually, the band is just as Visually, the band is just as ostentatious, their stage show powered by a phalanx of lighting rigs and increasingly inventive ways to test local fire codes.
ostentatious, their stage show powered by a phalanx of lighting rigs and increasingly inventive ways to test local fire codes. Guitars equipped with flame throwers? Check. Firespewing masks that looked as if they were purchased at an S&M shop catering to arsonists? Check. An explosives-laden vest that Lindeman detonated on his chest? OK, time to stop with the rhetorical questions already.
All this being said, Rammstein’s stage show was actually a bit toned down from some past tours. Maybe they wanted the capacity crowd to focus on the songs more. Fair enough: Rammstein’s repertoire packs plenty of bombast, but isn’t wholly defined by it. Keyboardist