THE SET WAS INTENSE. I threw myself into it, starting a thrash session that saw some of the younger crowd stagger back away from the front line, dizzy and looking for air. The older regulars took their place, relishing a chance to cut loose and push the limits. After the first few songs, jackets and shirts were discarded, leaving a wall of hair and tattoos with the odd set of colours here and there. The band rose to the challenge, Dirk and Sven pushing the rhythm section so that the guitars had to race to keep up. And keep up they did. Riff after riff. Hook after hook. Verse. Chorus. Solo. Repeat. It became a sweating, panting, screaming animal with 50 heads, all thrashing in time to the thunder that poured from the stage.
And the beast would not die. When it was over, we yelled for more.
