Information
Date: October 5, 2001
City: Oklahoma City, OK, USA
Author: Jay Young
Review
My name is Jay Young, and I am a 20 year-old student at The University of Oklahoma. On Friday, October 5th, 2001, I had the privelage of witnessing Rammstein live in concert--a dream I have had for a very long time. Living near Tulsa, Oklahoma, you can imagine how the odds of a Germany-based group coming to the middle of Oklahoma seem. I originally intended on the remote but possible prospect of going to Germany to see them. I have been a fan of Rammstein since roughly in early 1999 when a friend of mine first played Du Hast for me. He had been to their Oklahoma concert at the Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa during Rammstein's first visit.
To convince this friend of mine to attend the Pledge of Allegiance concert, for which he lacked the money, I had to pay part of his ticket price, my grand total coming to over $50. I didn't care. I still don't care. I didn't even stay to see System of a Down or Slipknot, and the show was still all I had ever dreamed about and more. Rammstein played only seven of their songs, mostly from the Mutter album. I was able to see Till engulfed in flames with the laser eye, and the head-mounted flame thrower. They did not, however, perform Bück Dich. Not nearly as wild as the crowds in Tulsa, this Oklahoma City crowd primarily seemed astonished at the visual effects Rammstein brought to bear, not surprisingly.
After their appearance on stage, my friend and I were given the unique opportunity to go back stage and see the band after purchasing the Mutter album (the second time for me, the third for him) for 23 dollars--a 23 dollars well spent. First in a line of perhaps forty or more, we were led backstage where we waited against a wall. Finally, through some double doors in front of me in what looked to be a warehouse area, there was a loud crash and a tumbling of boxes to the floor. The band appeared just after that, speaking german to one another, dressed in average clothing--blue jeans and long-sleeved shirts, and half of them, including Till, wearing knit caps. One of Rammstein's associates, a huge man with blonde hair in a pony tail, directed us forward. I had gone across the street before we went backstage and bought a disposable camera from a hotel lobby for $16. Standing in the middle of the table, while my Mutter album jacket was being signed, I asked if I could take their picture. Oliver looked up at me, grabbed my camera, pointed it at me and took my picture instead. He and Paul laughed, then he gave the camera back to me, nodded his head and said yes. I leaned on the table while my friend took the picture. I moved down the table and while Till was signing my album, I asked why they had not performed Bück Dich. When I said "bück dich", Till and Flake both looked up at me as if those were the only words they had understood. Gesturing with his hands to ensure I understood, and with a thick german accent, Flake told me that their time slot was too short. Before I left, I asked Mr. Lindemann if I could shake his hand. Coming from such a large man, it was no surprise to me that it was very firm. All of this happened in the span of a few short minutes, being hustled along by Rammstein's massive side-hand.
I feel almost as if I have reached the pinnacle of my existance, having shaken the immortal hand of Till Lindemann. Despite their criticism from the world, which they, like most other bands, have made it their duty to promote, Rammstein has proven themselves worthy of my respect, loyalty, and admiration. Their attention to their fans does not go unnoticed and speaks a volume louder than their stage speakers could ever hope to rival. I continue to look forward to the prospect of seeing them in Germany, but I will no doubt have to brush up on my German before that dream ever has a chance of becoming reality.