January 9 - Demon Box

To me, the most momentous musical happening of 2015 is one that I missed. July 1993, I was listening to NRK Radio's broadcast from Roskilde, and they featured a Norwegian band that I had heard of but not really listened to who, the band that would turn into a musical obsession - and a band whose inspirations really took me far in terms of exploring my own musical tastes. The band was the mighty Motorpsycho, who over the course of their 25 year long career has turned into quite the eclectic outfit - or misfit. As a matter of fact, they are so respected in Norway that there is a temporary exhibit dedicated to them at Rockheim, Norway's national museum for popular music in my hometown, Trondheim (which also is Motorpsycho's headquarters).

By October 2 that year, I had acquired all their CD releases up to that point, and I spent the evening at Studentersamfundet witnessing a tour de force of music that completely blew me away. I watched them take the audience through the poppy sounds of Nothing to Say and Giftland, completely controlling the audice, before they tested our willpower and dedication with a blistering version of Demon Box, the title track from that year's album (double vinyl but only single CD, with songs like Mountain left out). Luckily, the Mountain EP followed soon after the album, and by the time I discovered them, both were out.

I am guaranteeing that I will revisit Motorpsycho several times this year, so more will follow - but the event that I missed was an opportunity to see them play Demon Box in it's entirety. They did it four times: First at the Slottsfjell (Castle Mountain) festival in Tønsberg, Norway, in a concert that almost didn't happen at the top of the small mountain due to extreme wind. The next three times were at Rockheim as the Supersonic Scientists exhibit opened.

However, I have one Demon Box memory that no one can take away from me: The descent down Drivdalen (Driva Valley) from Oppdal toward Sunndalsøra. It was cold, and it was misty, and the song had just turned from the metal injections and the "I need you like I need gangrene" chorus to the spectacular noise mid-section. Descending into the wall of fog with the noise blaring through the speakers, all by myself, gave me chills and goosebumps that only a sensory assault of this magnitude could do. When I emerged on the other side of the fog and the song had turned into the happier territory of Babylon and Junior, I was spent. Thank you, Motorpsycho!