There are dark November evenings, and then there are evenings when darkness doesn’t just fall — it gets systematized. The kind where everything suddenly smells a little of incense, latex, and anticipation.
One star
Two stars
Three stars
Four stars
Five stars
Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
Cradle of Filth came through Amager Bio with two support bands in tow, and even before Dani Filth appeared, the atmosphere was already well and truly soaked in genres, subgenres, and the usual metal doubling-up of names that almost sound like parody when you say them out loud.
Mélancolia – and the involuntary charm of genre poetry
The Australian band Mélancolia opened the night — “melodic blackened deathcore with influences from industrial goth and nu-metal.” That is a real genre description, and honestly: it’s almost beautiful how far you can stretch a label before it collapses under its own weight. But that is also part of metal’s involuntary charm. The extreme in the specific.
They were energetic, committed, and visually in sync: white clothing, makeup from “I haven’t slept in 14 years,” and a frontman in something that looked like a straitjacket crop top designed by a goth teenager on drugs. The drummer wore a half-mask — because if you play darker nu-metal and you’re not in KoЯn, then at least one person in the band has to wear a mask. That’s just how the rules work.
There was ambition in their performance. A little forced in places, as if they really wanted to sell “ferocity” and were just missing that final layer of ease. But the energy was real, and even when their calls for circle pits died in silence, they carried on undeterred. The closing line — “Love us or hate us, as long as you don’t forget us” — summed them up perfectly. It was so apt, in fact, that I’m happy to pass the message on.
Suffocation – too big for support, but they did it anyway
Suffocation came on after that and felt, more than anything, like a band that should really have had double the stage time. Intense, tight death metal, delivered by people who no longer need to prove anything. The crowd woke up, circle pits appeared, and the energy level rose considerably.
If Mélancolia were the eccentric prelude, Suffocation were the steady hand on the back saying: “All right, don’t worry, the chaos will have structure now.”
Even they, though, couldn’t quite hide the collective restlessness that had started humming after two hours of waiting. People wanted the headliner.
And then it was time for him.
“That little horny falsetto vampire goblin”
I overheard it somewhere in the middle of the room, and I choose to believe Dani Filth himself would have taken it as a compliment of sorts.
Cradle of Filth came on with large alien-like figures, a flower-covered hedge, and Dani shuffling in, hooded and theatrical, as if he were arriving at his own funeral.
They opened with “To Live Deliciously” from the new album — a fine choice of opener, with that familiar poetically Filthian lyricism: lust filtered through gothic symbolism and half-mythological threats: Embracing the playful and the slayful knife. Here, they are still supreme.
The lineup changes and the missing core
It’s impossible to ignore that Cradle of Filth have changed members as other people change phone cases. Some have given up trying to keep track. On stage, you could feel it. The new guitarist (who I assume is… new) smiled a little too warmly, a little too “friendly uncle at a confirmation party,” which didn’t quite mesh with the corpse paint and leather, and at times the dynamics felt messy — not bad, just less dangerous than they like to appear. It wasn’t Lordi-level weird mismatch, but enough to notice.
Dani Filth — still one of a kind
Dani still delivers, though. The body, the voice, the little barbs at the audience — all the things that make him such a strange blend of poet, comedian, and gothic theatre director. His falsetto disappeared a couple of times in the mix (a shame, because the lyrics actually deserve to be understood), but his presence was strong.
He joked that they were only going to play songs from one album: Cradle of Filth’s Greatest Hits.
If that were true, a few gems were missing — especially from Damnation and a Day — but the intention was nice.
Let’s put it like this: not perfect, but still Cradle of Filth
This was not Cradle of Filth at their sharpest. It was not the most coherent concert they have ever delivered. But when Suffocation had raised the bar and Mélancolia had set the scene, Cradle of Filth still became the dark centre everyone had come for.
They are still an experience. Still theatrical. Still ugly, gothic, vulgar, comic, and brilliant in the same motion.
Musically, it could have been tighter. Visually, it could have been more cohesive.
But the overall impression?
A solid, distinctive evening, where Suffocation in particular made everything feel sharper than Cradle themselves quite managed.
It was not a failure.
Just an evening where the darkness worked best in the transitions — and where Dani Filth, the vampire goblin himself, could still make the room smile through the corpse paint.
