Amphi Festival in Cologne

Cologne in July. Most people come for the cathedral, the river cruises, maybe a Kölsch or two. Me? I came for the darkness and industrial noise at Amphi Festival, the annual pilgrimage of the black-clad faithful, where leather is a second skin and daylight is considered an occupational hazard.

Post punk survivors in leather jackets and neon goths in superfluous hair extensions come crawling out of the shadows and into the glaring sun at Tanzbrunnen next to the Rhine. An ironic setting, considering most of us would combust under prolonged UV exposure. The festival plays out like a Tim Burton daydream fused with the mechanical heartbeat of a malfunctional android. You don’t stumble into Amphi by accident — you choose it. Like a favorite boot.

Unter den Svampen.

16 000 visitors dressed in black gather at the scorching area, but I hear nobody complaining at all while sweating it out in PVC and velvet, moving to the deafening pulse of bands with names that sound like post-apocalyptic viruses.

There’s beer. There’s Spießbratenbrötchen. And yes, there’s the guy dressed as a steampunk plague doctor buying an ice cream cone. Welcome to Amphi.

Combichrist at Staatenhaus.

Some of the favorite concerts were DAF, Project Pitchfork, Combichrist, SITD, Seabound and Spetsnaz. Unfortunately Front Line Assembly canceled their planned gig to work on the upcoming album, but instead we got former member Rhys Fulber with his side project Conjure One.

I also had a look at Sisters of Mercy, Apoptygma Berzerk, Camouflage, The Crüxshadows, Corvus Corax, Nachtmahr, Eisbrecher, Coppelius, Mind In A Box, Blutengel and more.

By nightfall, the lights hit harder, the music gets louder, and reality (whatever that is) fades out. We’re left in a sea of bodies, pulsating with industrial rhythms, lost somewhere between the present and a dystopian disco that never quite ends.

Frank Spinath, Seabound.

To rest my ears for a while, I walked across the beautiful Hohenzollern Bridge, crossing the Rhine river. It is the most heavily used railway bridge in Germany, and also one of the most important bridges during World War II until destroyed by German engineers during the Allied assault in 1945.

Hohenzollern Bridge.

Outside the venue, Cologne tries to carry on with its sunny disposition. Families with strollers glance sideways at people who look like they crawled out of a haunted Berlin subway. But no one bats an eye for long, this is Germany after all, and they know how to let their freak flag fly. Keep calm, drink Kölsch and carry on.

Cologne might have its Roman roots and Gothic spires, but for a few days in July, it belongs to the night creatures. And frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.