01.webp)
I've seen Gloryhammer before. It was strange then, and it's still strange now. Their concert at Copenhell felt like a Dungeons & Dragons role-playing game that never got really dangerous -- just silly. And not in the fat way.
One star
Two stars
Three stars
Fours stars
Five stars
Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
Gloryhammer is the closest you get to a fantasy theatre piece disguised as a metal band. There are costumes, there are props, and there is a man in a glittering suit of armor who sings about unicorns and cosmic wars as if he means it. But after all, he doesn't. And that's the whole problem.
The concert starts with a bang -- not of music, but of confetti and papier-mâché fantasy. It feels like one is dumped down in the middle of a British children's TV edition of World of Warcraft. The sound side is neat enough, and the musicians play tight, but the whole thing is so cheesy and distanced that it's hard to feel anything. Their songs are about intergalactic dragons and zombies in Dundee, but there's a lack of nerve and I start to get bored before the first chorus is over.
The problem with Gloryhammer isn't that they're silly. It's that they don't go wholly all-in on their silliness. If you're going to be a joke-metal band, be it with confidence. But here they balance on a strange boundary between seriousness and parody, and that makes the experience flat. I sat with the feeling of seeing someone pretend, they're doing show -- without actually wanting it.
012.webp)
The audience seemed divided. Some stood and laughed loudly, others filmed with their phones, looking bewildered. A single man next to me sang along The Unicorn Invasion of Dundee with a sincerity that made me a little sad. Perhaps that's the most depressing thing: That Gloryhammer is best if you're an irony fan -- and who really has the energy for that anymore?
Visually, the whole thing is most reminiscent of a play for children that was never finished. They have their own universe, their own characters, and a kind of mythology that's probably fun to dive into if you're 13 and have just discovered both Iron Maiden and LEGO Castle.
But on a scene like Copenhell, otherwise oozing with sweat, intensity and genuine emotion, Gloryhammer sticks out like a cuckolded parenthesis. It's like serving juice water for a whiskey tasting. I've seen them before. I've had enough now.
In reality...
Gloryhammer is the musical answer to a theme party where the host never quite dares to wear the wig. There is a lack of depth and there is a lack of will to really be somewhat. They are entertaining for five minutes, but quickly feel like a segment from The Beating Teamthat was never cut out.
