Tonight, I took Kristen to see Danzig on the Blackest of the Black tour for her birthday (which is tomorrow, or, you know, today, or whatever, November 11, fuck off). We met up with Jen, who was very much into one of the opening bands, a Norwegian black metal band called Dimmu Borgir – who I had never heard of before.

I kick myself for not having heard Dimmu Borgir before because they put on one of the best shows I’ve seen in a long, long time. It was an awesome theatrical spectacle. A+++ WOULD WATCH AGAIN.

Even better, I would have called them a band that was parodying Dethklok if it were not that Dimmu Borgir has been around since 1996 or so. They had the face makeup, and the spiked boots, and the lead singer was decked out in satanic armor replete with pentacles and a kind of chainmail skirt. Long hair, swirling around in circles. Smoke, lasers, tempos: at one point, KBK leaned over to me and said, “I fully expect to see an army of Mordhaus goons come to the stage.”

I swear to fucking $DEITY, the lead singer said, literally, “Good Evenings, Sans Fransciscos! We ares the Blackest of the the Blacks!” Only it was the Nathan Explosion voice speaking like Skwisgar. (And none of that makes any sense unless you know fuck all about Dethklok).

I could go on for a while about how awesome the Dimmu Borgir (which means “Dark Cities”) gig was. They were a very, very tight band. They were tight musically, they were tight thematically, and their light show was just . . . well. I never really pay much attention to lights. And this time, I did.

(We skipped the first three bands. There were five: Danzig, Dimmu Borgir, Something, Something, Something. We missed Something[cubed], opting for burgers and beers instead.)

Then we were treated to a wonderful diatribe from a roadie about how if anyone took any photo of any kind with any kind of device, camera, phone, or otherwise, it would be confiscated and we would be kicked out and probably beaten.

And I said, “Because it’s going to be ‘pudgy’ Glenn.”

And Lo! I was not far off. More like “Old Glenn”.

Lemme give the dude props: he’s in his fifties. And, despite some pudge, he’s still pretty stocky. His hair is thinning, but it still swings when he headbangs.

Honestly, the Danzig set was . . . not very tight. I’m being kind there. It was “sloppy”. When he sang lines, maybe only half the words made it into the microphone. But this show wasn’t about that: it was about nostalgia – especially for KBK, who is a huge Misfits fan and I know that Danzig was one of the first shows she’d ever been to.

And, in that regard, he pulled it off. He was one of the most enthusiastic performers I’d seen in a long time. He was very much engaged in the crowd – not only them, but also his crew (musicians and roadies). This may be because it was the last show of the tour (and the roadies were doing all sorts of weird shit, like bringing pizzas around the stage while the band was playing). Doesn’t matter. They were having a lot of fun, and it infected the crowd.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and I hope KBK is pleased with her birthday present.