Playing in Europe for the first time is like losing your virginity. You get nervous with anticipation. You imagine it vividly, but no matter what you do, nothing can fully prepare you for it. Eventually, when that moment arrives, you just have to overcome your fears and do it. Such was the case when we flew to Eindhoven in 1987 to perform in front of 30,000 metalheads at the annual Dynamo Open Air Festival.
I'd been to Europe seven years earlier with my family. But here I was, eighteen, out of the house and no longer the little boy under the watchful eye of mom and dad.
As the van shuttled us in from Amsterdam International Airport, I looked out upon the peaceful serenity of The Netherlands, better known by it's unofficial nickname "Holland." It was a lot like I'd remembered it: life size gingerbread houses, rolling green hills, windmills, tiny cars and people on bicycles. Could this fairy tale like country really be into metal?
All doubts were quickly cast aside when, the night before the festival, we performed a warm up gig at the Dynamo Club to hundreds of sweaty fans. The intensity of the mosh pits and stage diving rivaled that of any crowd we'd scene before.
Already, it felt like we'd reached a new level. We weren't playing for the local metal scene back home. These were total strangers across the ocean who who spoke a different language and asked us for our autographs. Tonight there were hundreds, tomorrow there would be thousands.
After the warm up show, several of our new fans became gracious hosts, buying us drinks and showing us around the town.
With it's endless array of nightclubs, sex shops and hashish houses, Eindhoven was like an adult playground. We bounced from bar to bar in a beer and hash induced haze. Soon it was 3am and the bars were still open. I'm not sure how I got back to the hotel, but I made it. Eventually everyone else did as well.
At around noon the next day, we were driven to the festival site, a giant airfield with a stage and PA system. The crowd was a sea of leather and denim. Everywhere you looked there were people with band logos on their patches and t-shirts. "Motorhead," "Venom,""Iron Maiden," "Slayer" etc... I'd never known this many metal fans existed let alone seen them in one place.
Headlining the festival was Stryper, a Christian rock band from LA, who had developed a big presence on American radio and MTV. They wore black and yellow stripes, had huge eighties hair and sang commercial hard rock songs for Jesus.
We didn't know Stryper, and had nothing against them, but it seemed especially weird to have us and them on the same bill, for several reasons:
1. Our music was fast, intense speed metal. Theirs was 'easy listening' by comparison.
2. Our songs were about darkness and violence. Theirs were about the virtues of Christianity.
3. We indulged in alcohol and other vices. They indulged in the Holy Bible.
How ironic that the name of our band was "Testament."
In keeping with their pious lifestyle, Stryper had imposed three rules for backstage etiquette:
No drinking, no smoking and no cursing.
All the other bands were instructed to observe these rules while in their presence.
When the time came for us to walk out and perform, the guys from Stryper were just arriving backstage. Our vocalist, Chuck, decided to greet them by letting them know just what he thought of their rules.
"Where's my pot?" he yelled. "Let's smoke some pot! I cant go on without my god damn pot!"
The members of Stryper turned their heads and looked perplexed. They didn't know what to say. Chuck looked straight at them and didn't miss a beat.
"You guys got any fucking beer?" he asked.
We all started giggling like naughty school children and headed outside into the damp cloudy air to take the stage.
The show was a total rush. It was cold out there. My hands felt frozen. It started raining. The sound onstage was terrible. But we were pulling it off.
The crowd went wild. For the first time, we were playing in front of thousands of people. And in the blink of an eye, it was done. I don't remember much else except that it was followed by a lot of celebrating and another night on the town in Eindhoven.
The next day, as we were driven back across the Dutch landscape towards the Amsterdam airport, we awaited our flight back home to the USA. Mixed in with our hangovers was an overwhelming sensatiion of relief that it was over. We had done our first big European gig.
Like a first time sexual encounter, it was far from perfect, but with repeated experience, it would get better. For now, we had done it. We had lost our virginity and were no longer a "local" band. We had just stepped out of the Bay Area and onto the world stage.
Posted by Alex S at 7:42 PM
![Kickass :kickass: :kickass:](/data/assets/smilies/rock2.gif)
![Kickass :kickass: :kickass:](/data/assets/smilies/rock2.gif)
![Kickass :kickass: :kickass:](/data/assets/smilies/rock2.gif)