For many of you readers, Bastard Bar needs no introduction. Most may know it as a good place to lay back and have a cold one, or as a place to see some Tuesday night open mic sessions – but would you believe this little bar has a monster of an attitude whenever a hardcore band happens to grace its vast halls with live music? Oh yes, beware!
Text: George Stoica
This Saturday, April 2nd, the Bastards of Strandgata 22 hosted a double concert, torn asunder by two bands – “Die A Legend” and “Ondt Blot”. I say double concert because it didn’t feel like either of the bands opened or closed for the other, and it certainly didn’t seem to matter for the public. This was a case of two powerful bands on equal footing, giving it their all. My initial misgivings with regard to concert crowds in Tromsø were completely put to rest. It was a non-stop pile of dancing, moshing, jumping and whatever else you can do by throwing your body around like a sack of ripe potatoes.
The bands were at the top of their game. I just couldn’t believe how meaty and perfectly aggressive Die A Legend sounded in a space so enclosed and so small. The tightness of their playing and the perfectly balanced sound made it look like a show three times larger than it was. Someone else might be able to entertain you with discussions about their style and lyrical themes; I’m just going to say that they absolutely ripped themselves (and us) to shreds. I can’t wait to see them again.
Ondt Blot, another band that needs no introduction, also managed to pull off something special. After seeing them in Driv some while ago, I was surprised to see how effortlessly they adapt to various live settings. We’re talking no compromises here. They sound just as good in a tiny little basement bar as they did on the Isbjørn Scene. That speaks volumes about both their professionalism and the people working the soundboard.
All in all, there isn’t much more that needs to be said. You had to be there. The crowd was a complete freak-out right until the end. Beer was flying through the air, people were jumping off tables (though when the ceiling is only about a metre higher than the table you can’t really call it a “jump” as much as an “airborne ballistic charge”), and the noise, oh the sweet noise and loudness of it all! With the exception of the posers in the back taking pictures of each other, I don’t think anyone walked out of there without a huge sweat stain on their shirt. Besides, when the concert was over – lo and behold – we had one hell of an aurora to guide us home. TROMSØ HARDCORE!