By: Tasja Nielsen
Cover photo from: Bag Nummeret
Date: 17 April '15
Venue: VEGA Enghavevej 2, CPH
Event: Suspekt concert
I truly love music. I love how it can bring me on so many inner journeys, how it can affect my mood, the way a well-composed beat can enslave my entire being, and blur out everything around me.
In the case of the Suspekt concert, the factors I listed above, were in full effect. But the journey I was brought into, the story I was dancing to, was more someone’s twisted horror story. A highly horny horror story, that is.
My alcohol consumption that particular day, would make a hardened Russian say ”Oh oh oh, slow down little one!” but as the custom demands, a Suspekt concert has to go down in the not-giving-a-fuck state of mind that this specific beverage provides.
So yeah, I was off my ass, and loving it.
My best friend and I came to the concert together and we were all over the place, the venue was packed and the audience was so ready to party! We were dancing, jumping, yelling, shaking everything that could be shaken and basically just letting the steam out. At one point some dude spilled a very sticky drink all over me. When I confronted him, he looked at me with a smile that could tear the panties off Angela Merkel, and said, “Well, it's not a real Suspekt concert, if you DON'T get a drink spilled on you, is it?” Touché man!
From that point on, with me being dirty, sticky and drunk, everything just escalated.
The band entered the stage and the place literally exploded, all chanting ”Su-Su-Suspekt”, bouncing around like mad! One of the band members was inviting the female audience up on the stage, while he was wearing nothing but a robe and underpants. Present on the stage were a lot of leather, a lot of skin, smoke, drinks, I even recall a whip up there at some point.
These guys have played together for over a decade now. A decade they've used developing a text universe unlike any other Danish rap-groups. They glorify all that is extreme, everything obscure and over the top. And I think it's why I love them so much. Anal penetration, peeping through windows, deathly sex-games and systematic use of the term ”dripping”, creates the arena on which these men perform.
At a concert like this, your inner whore (she's there, don't deny her) is brought out. She's brought out and she's celebrated like a depraved goddess.
Celebrated by yourself, by the band, by the men, and at a point even the girls present, were celebrating one another’s sweaty, dancing, horny bodies. The wave of sex flowing from the stage was undeniable, and the effect it had on the audience was so awesome. We were all just flowing in this river of sexual indecency, lusting, pulsating and getting our brains properly soaked in booze and heavy beats.
After a night like that my entire shell was exhausted. Exhausted but still very remarkably reloaded.
I don't ”whore around” in my regular daily life, but after this concert my mind wandered. From time to time it wandered out in the gloomy night, to a dark and filthy backyard, with me wearing nothing but a coat and stilettos, meeting that special, nasty, someone.