cradle OF Filth resurrect the classic Cruelty And The Beast.
LONDON PALLADIUM, LONDON
Suffolk’s gothic libertines get down and dirty with a classic album
a grade ii-listed theatre in the centre of London might not seem the most obvious venue for extreme metal. But once you enter the lavish, neoclassical doors of the Palladium (or, as it’s dubbed tonight, the Pallademonium) to witness the sea of goths clad in Victoriana mourning attire it seems perfectly fitting for hosting the UK’S biggest black metal export. Playing Cruelty And The Beast, their bloodcurdling ode to the fabled vampiric countess Elizabeth Bathory, in its entirety, cradle of FILTH have gone all-out with the theatrics. After an intro from a corpsepainted commentator (who shouts “Jesus is a…” at the crowd, cue the profanity) the band kick straight into the revered record, equipped with fire galore and some dramatic help from a robe-cladden ‘Bathory’ before the intermission.
As a mainstay of every 90s-to-early00s teen goth’s CD collection, the first half is well received by the sold-out crowd. Unfortunately, keyboardist and vocalist Lindsay Schoolcraft is off-key, and this doesn’t improve in the second half of the show, where their setlist kicks into Cradle’s biggest goth metal anthems. One dad is forced to cover his young son’s eyes during Nymphetamine
due to the pantomime-like addition of two ‘slutty nuns’ and the whole thing turning a little pornographic. The unconvincing women of God burn their bible, remove their skimpy habits (revealing inverted cross nipple pasties), mock-penetrate themselves with plastic crucifies and smear what can only be mistaken for menstrual blood all over their bare breasts. But it’s all what we’ve come to expect from a band whose approach to Satan is no more serious than a whoopee cushion, and the transition from red light district to magical snow globe for the opening lyrics to Saffron’s Curse quickly brings the show back into PG territory. Dani Filth’s puppy dog yelps and barked addresses to the crowd only add to the histrionics of an utterly entertaining – if not a little farcical – Satanic romp of a show.
ALICE PATTILLO