I know it’s easy to mock Bullet For My Valentine. But standing there in front of the stage, watching their singer emerge in a leather jacket and V-neck as if he were on his way to audition for a Twilight remake, I had to surrender to it: there is a special kind of cringe that is so convinced of its own toughness that it becomes entertaining.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
The Copenhell crowd is not easy to fool. You can feel it straight away. Either you have something to say — or you’re just standing there in your backstage-branded merch, sweating and trying to fake it. Bullet For My Valentine land somewhere in between. Their biggest sin is probably not that they’re bad — they aren’t — but that they think they’re playing metal when they really ought to be on The Voice’s high school tour in 2009.
They open with “Your Betrayal,” and the whole stage is wrapped in smoke machines, fire and guitars that look more dangerous than the music sounds. Singer Matt Tuck tries out hard stares and bursts of anger, but it feels pasted on. It’s not rage, it’s rage cosplay. And when you call something “a fucking banger” on stage, only for it to turn out to be “Tears Don’t Fall,” a song that sounds like a Nickelback ballad with eyeliner — well, then you start looking for the exit.
But here’s the interesting part: it still works. The crowd — especially the younger fans — sing along, throw their hands in the air and jump as if they’d bought tickets to Bring Me The Horizon at Royal Arena. Bullet still have fans. Plenty of them. And they know how to play their part, even if it’s with the same conviction as a man in a Batman costume on Strøget.
The band sounds tight, and they’re skilled. That can’t be taken away from them. They know their audience and deliver what’s expected. The problem is that what they deliver feels more like a Matas gift box than the raw metal Copenhell usually guarantees. There’s no nerve. No oddness. No… all the things that make metal dangerous and alive.
Mostly, it feels like a metal band that wants to make stadium pop but still be invited into the cool club. And even though they technically hammer away with plenty of confidence, it feels as if they’re playing for a mirror, not for a crowd.
Let’s put it like this…
Bullet For My Valentine are like a can of Red Bull at a whisky tasting. It fizzes, it makes noise, and it gives you a quick kick. But by the time the party really gets going, they’re already on their way home, makeup running and a slightly hollow look in their eyes.
