She’s 57 and wore her bare torso like a battle-ready alien. At one point, a broad-shouldered security guard had to help Skin up out of the mosh pit, and when she was back on stage, she pointed down at him and said: “If you wanna have sex later, I’m in.” That was when I knew this wasn’t going to be some sexless nostalgia gig.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
There’s something powerful about musicians who don’t try to be younger than they are. Skin stood on stage as exactly what she is: a legend, a freak, a voice with splinters in it. She hurled her microphone into the crowd, jumped in herself, was lifted back up by a broad-shouldered helper (who got a lot of attention from the stage afterwards), and said things that didn’t sound like tired tour clichés. It didn’t feel rehearsed. And that alone made an impression.
But still. It’s been 30 years since they peaked. And you can feel that. Not much has happened to the sound since Stoosh, and at one point during the concert I caught myself thinking: good grief, this could just as well have been 1996. Not necessarily as praise. More as a recognition that Skunk Anansie still sound like Skunk Anansie — and then you have to decide for yourself whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Personally, I liked Weak, even if it wasn’t the song that made the crowd explode. It was the harder tracks — and fair enough, we’re at Copenhell. Not many people have come here to feel vulnerable. But when “Charlie Big Potato” rolled across the grounds, it really felt as if we’d been invited into a future where the ’90s still have something to say. And it felt… right.
They had a strong hold on the audience. Maybe especially because Myles Kennedy had cancelled, and people could have shown up with their arms folded. But this band cranked it up. That takes guts and nerve. And they still have both.
Reflection:
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t modern. But it was real. And sometimes that’s more than enough. Skin didn’t come to please anyone. She came to bare her teeth. And she did — with huge respect, naked skin, and decibels that felt fiercer than her age. I hope she offered Mr. Muscle a backstage beer.
