The last Tinitus festival

This weekend marked the end of an era. Tinitus, Stockholm’s long-running industrial and electronic festival, held its final edition after ten years. To make the farewell count, the organizers expanded it to two days and assembled a lineup worthy of the occasion.

Outside, Stockholm was enjoying one of those bright spring weekends that tempt sensible people into cafés and parks. We chose a different path, descending into the concrete depths of Münchenbryggeriet, where daylight gave way to smoke machines, strobe lights and a sea of black clothing. Exactly where we belonged.

Andy LaPlegua, Combichrist.

It was my third time seeing Suicide Commando, although this performance never quite reached the intensity of the previous ones. Johan Van Roy mixed newer material into the set, but by the time they took the stage it was approaching 3 AM in the morning and the audience had started to fade. Even so, hearing “Dein Herz, Meine Gier” at full volume almost made the late hour irrelevant.

If Suicide Commando struggled against the clock, Combichrist certainly didn’t. Andy LaPlegua stormed onto the stage with his usual grin, backed by his relentlessly pounding drummers, and within minutes the audience had transformed into a single moving mass. Even someone my size decided it was wiser to retreat a few steps than become an unwilling participant in the front-row crush. It didn’t quite surpass their unforgettable Arvikafestivalen performance the previous summer, but few bands generate that much raw energy without detonating the building.

And One delivered exactly what everyone expected. Steve Naghavi was as playful as ever, comfortably commanding the crowd. Northborne never really managed to grab my attention. Spectra Paris battled sound problems throughout their set, but earned plenty of goodwill with an unexpected cover of Mad World by Tears for Fears, accompanied by visuals from A Clockwork Orange, a combination strange enough to work surprisingly well.

Dirk Ivens, The Klinik.

The second day belonged to The Klinik. As pioneers of the Belgian industrial scene since 1985, they hardly needed an introduction. Dirk Ivens walked onstage wearing the trademark mask, projecting the kind of effortless cool that most musicians spend entire careers trying to manufacture. The performance was dark, mechanical and hypnotic. The perfect closing chapter for the final Tinitus.

With both SAMA and now Tinitus gone, the Swedish alternative scene suddenly feels a little smaller. Festivals and clubs disappear far more easily than they’re created, and every farewell leaves another empty space on the calendar.

Fortunately, festival season isn’t over just yet. Arvikafestivalen is waiting around the corner, with Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode and Røyksopp leading a formidable lineup. See you there.