Happy little boozers: Korpiklaani in Detroit with DC-in-Detroit

DC is a longtime contributor to the MCB.

She can be reached at DC.in.Detroit [at] gmail.com

Korpiklaani
18 September 2012
Harpos, Detroit

I like to make things. You know that about me, right? A good concert will give me not only motivation to make something wearable, but often a theme as well. For Korpiklaani — "Wilderness Clan" — I needed a good pair of horns. But for Harpos, I wanted something they'd let me in with. No deadly-antlered weapons.

I got to spend all day Tuesday at home experimenting with felt and faux fur. Sometimes life is tough, eh? The result was adorable. That's appropriate for metal shows, right? Adorableness? 

My fuzz-covered workspace.

Funny enough, this is actually the second horn-hat I've made, but the other one utilized real deer antlers. That was for le Marche du Nain Rouge in 2011. (I'd have busted 'em out for the Marche again this year, but I was out of town — but I'll be running that little bastard out of town in spring 2013.)

It had been a few years since my last trip to Harpos — the bands that play there don't tend to be the kinds of bands I want to see. One of my workmates turned me on to Korpiklaani a couple of years ago, though, and I'd been excited about seeing them from the first time I heard them. With MCB's Punitor riding shotgun, we rolled out with the sun still shining and parked the tank right on Harpos, steps from the front door. Good for parking, but maybe not so good for the expected crowd.

Even though I remembered the metal detector at the door, I just stomped right into the lobby. Security dude laughed at it bleeping and said, "Yeah, sure, just plow right through there —" then got serious "— or, uh, give me your metal stuff and do it again." Derp. He had a job to do, but like I said, we were a bit adorable to be taken as a threat. See, I go through the trouble of making a furry-horn-hat and Punitor? She just shows up in one. I walked up to the ticket window to claim my press credentials, and was greeted, "Are you here to take me to Valhalla?"

I winked and responded, "We'll talk after the show."

MCB's Punitor. Would you let this woman in without searching her?

 Once inside, ahhh yes, Harpos. Nothing quite like it, eh? What a cavern. There were very few people there, but it was still early. I was expecting two openers, and tried to miss the first one. Since the place was quiet when we arrived, I figured the timing was perfect. What I didn't know was there were a total of three opening bands, and I probably missed the most interesting one. (That, evidently, was Metsatöll.) I understand rock, but man, it's hard for me to get excited by three guitars and a drum kit. Over and over. Evidently the first band included some sort of flute. Sorry I missed that.

Naturally, first stop was the bar. The one bar that was open that night, with the one staffer. All night.

"We'll have a couple Jager and Red Bulls."
"We don't have any Red Bull."
Looking up at the two massive Monster energy drink ads behind the bar, I try, "Jager and Monster then."
"We don't have any Jager."
"How do you not have any— okay, two vodka tonics."
We got vodka and soda. At least they had vodka. (And apparently one brand of beer. Most house parties are better-stocked. Shit MY house is currently better-stocked.)

*crickets*

The previously-mentioned former workmate was already there and had claimed a table next to the Disco Dance Floor™. I didn't know how this was going to go. We'd worked together for a few years, and got along well, but had never socialized. You know when you leave a job and everyone lies about how you'll stay in touch? This guy is one of the only ones who I actually planned on keeping up with. "Look for the two behorned girls," I txted him. I could have easily have said, "Look for the only girls."

We had a couple of minutes to chat before the second opener came out. Oh boy, guitars and drums. And a shirtless Scandinavian. (I approve of that part.) That would be Tyr, and I don't have much to say about them. They seemed, you know, serviceable, and the metal-heads liked them. Let the hair-helicoptering commence!

 

Moonsorrow (more guitars and drums) were the last thing between us and Korpiklaani, and my experience of this band was completely ruined by said former coworker pointing out the kerning problems on their banner. Oh NOW how am I going to be able to take them seriously!

Man, you could drive a truck through that kern.

Really, a good portion of the still-small audience seemed to be there for Moonsorrow, or were at least very familiar with them. I sat up on my little perch and watched the two kinds of metal dudes — the hair flingers, and the tinmen, the guys who stand stock still with one hand on a beer and the other in a jeans pocket.

Typical tinmen.

Scanning the room, as I do, I noticed an impressive silvery goatee on one such lone tinman — in shorts and flipflops no less — and recognized him as the bassist for Korpiklaani. Normally, I wouldn't have, but he looked like a forest-man version of yet another former coworker. I sprang up and said hello, shook his hand, asked him how he liked the venue. He shook my hand civilly, but hadn't much else to say; now, I don't know if it's because he was in pre-show mode, if he just isn't very friendly, or if he had no freakin idea what I had just said. I held up my little snapshot camera though and asked if he minded having a pic taken with my friend. Still not smiling, he gestured for my friend to come over. So we had our little fan moment.

Finally, it was folk-metal time.

This is everyone. I don't mind a light crowd, I just hope it means they won't skip Detroit next time.

One of the problems with seeing shows at Harpos, aside from them having no fucking Jagermeister what the fuck is wrong with them, is that the stage is SO HIGH. When I'm close enough to the stage to see what's going on, I'm basically looking up at about weiner level. (Again, I do not necessarily disapprove.) But I really wanted to watch the guy on the accordion.

Best view I could get of squeezebox and fiddle.

The sparse crowd on the main floor was joyous but relatively mellow, which allowed me to cut loose a little more and really move my ass. Best of all worlds.

Claiming, as I have, repeatedly, that I'm not a metal fan, let me tell you why Korpiklaani is so great. Yes, they holler and growl, but the singer still is recognizably in tune. Yes, they shred on their instruments, but those include an accordion and a fiddle. It's happy, dancy, celebratory music, that hasn't once pissed me off or offended me. Bands of this calibre prove that you can still rock your face off without being shot through with so much poisonous anger. (Granted, I don't understand a good portion of the lyrics, but I'm happy remaining under the assumption that none of it is about gory deaths or screwing bitches.)

Punitor offers, "I can best describe the event as 'joyful.' The band brings you back to your roots and inspires a child-like sense of playfulness and camaraderie. Or maybe it was the vodka. Or the 'happy little boozer' mantra took hold subliminally."

Or maybe not so subliminally.

 

You know those mornings where you wake up and parts of you are sore, and you can't really tell whether it was from dancing or laughing or getting kicked in the ribs? And maybe there are a couple extra people in the house, and you're thinking, "Is today Wednesday or Thursday?"

Yeah, vodka.