The Night Vienna Burned in Lindemann’s Name

The anticipation for this night had been building for months, a steady pulse in my chest, a daily reminder that something powerful was on the horizon. When I finally arrived at the Wiener Stadthalle, the air already felt different, vibrating in the frequency we had come to witness, to relive, to immerse ourselves in. Even before the doors opened, whispers spoke of 14,000 souls, ready to step through the portal into Lindemann’s universe. Being invited to see it from such an intimate angle still moves me, still gives me chills, still makes life feel worth living. It is a privilege. It is gratitude. It is the certainty that some nights change you from the inside and you never want to go back.

The lines, though long, moved with surprising order. Outside, the contrast was sharp: the night’s cold and the protests, those still feeding on lies, clinging to a narrative that refuses to acknowledge the truth. ENOUGH! INNOCENT! I have much to say on this subject, but I refuse to give hate a stage. My focus is art, music and what is real. And what was real that night? The band. The music. The devotion. The performance. Life pulsating right before our eyes.

By the time I entered, the arena was nearly full for the opening act, something I refuse to ever miss. Aesthetic Perfection didn’t merely warm the crowd: they set it ablaze. Daniel’s voice shifted from metal to electronic in seconds, commanding every body present with the precision of someone who knows exactly what they want. Mike, playing on his own ground, radiated raw power with every beat; you could feel that performing there meant far more than just another show on the tour, it wasn’t an ordinary night.

Lore illuminated the stage with an energy that defies cliché, not sweetness, but light fused with the strength of passion-filled talent. And then NOIZITH entered, and everything clicked: presence, authenticity, impact. They didn’t feel like an opening act; they felt like the first act of an opera of chaos and ecstasy. Nothing overshadowed anyone, everything shone together.

And then… Till Lindemann and his squad.

To step into his universe is to forget everything outside that stage. I resonate with every lyric, every verse. The songs coursed through me as if ancient blood were running through my veins anew. And Vienna… Vienna didn’t just respond. Vienna erupted.

The arena, packed and boiling despite the winter outside, roared every time Till stepped to the edge of the stage. The screams were raw, visceral, almost wild and utterly satisfying. The crowd was obsessed, feverish and surrendered. Till was flawless. Intense. Raw. As only he can be.

And I was on stage.

My place was next to Joey and perhaps that is why I love being there so fiercely. Watching the show from that vantage is seeing the universe meticulously constructed. Joey is a monster behind the drums and simultaneously a surgeon of rhythm. He created a new world within our beloved Lindemann universe. Witnessing his performance up close is like observing a “pagan horse” commanding the storm.

Even without a perfect view of the opposite side of the stage, it’s impossible not to feel everything: the vibrations, the synchronicity of the team, Till’s meticulous care for every single person there. He doesn’t just lead a show, he commands a world.

And the show isn’t just Till, no matter how central he is. The entire band is a living organism. Brynn Route on the keyboard, beautiful with impossible contortions, proves that the human body still holds mysteries. Krissy Kaminski arrived quietly but firmly and intense on bass. Danny Lohner, now on guitar, roams freer than ever on stage. Funny as always! Emily Ruvidich sets the guitars ablaze as always, her presence a delight. Nothing was missing there.

The most intense moment? Every moment. Nothing is slack, nothing left to chance. Even the flaws are rehearsed, absorbed, and resolved instantly. But if something strikes me most profoundly, it is seeing the backstage in motion. Having grown up behind the scenes , a dreamy ballerina from a small town in the interior of southern Brazil, witnessing a giant of this magnitude operate is like returning home but in an epic, brutal, glorious form.

Well… The dancers. Ah, the dancers. I had felt something “missing” where everything seemed complete and when I saw they were part of this universe, I shouted: YES! Finally! They elevate every song, every lyric, every metaphor. They are the living flesh of his words, translating with their bodies what he sings with soul and blood. Graceful, smiling, she captivated EVERYONE. Luisa and Andina… flawless, pure feminine energy in its most honest form. Infectious choreography of women unbound, how could one not be impressed? Simply marvelous.

And here lies the deepest part of it all: the feminine energy on that stage. It is not fantasy. It is not fetish. It is not a trick. It is freedom. It is a resounding “YES” to all of us, women who exist despite barriers, refusals, fears. There, on that stage, we are free. There, we are primordial goddesses. Ishtar, Lilith—all at once. There, we are survivors, artists, living women. Whatever your belief, my ancestry triumphed that night.

It is our safe space. Not because we asked for it but because we created it. And because Till sees us with respect, with honor, with politeness.

A special thanks to CJ, who cares in the wings for those guided by dreams they never imagined could become reality. You are truly incredible person.

People talk endlessly about costumes, comparisons to Rammstein, reinterpretations. But anyone who lived this tour knows: this isn’t recycling—it’s evolution. The raw black, the shining gold, the textures, the makeup… everything is new. It is the old transformed; it is pure gold, art honed over decades. Till, rawer and more glorious than ever, solid as the metallic black he wears.

And the songs? Pick one? Impossible. They all pierce me. They all move me. They all make me dance, scream, cry, tremble. I live each one as if my soul depends on it… and perhaps it does. My neck gives it away. Laughter.

Watching Till up close, I notice something few understand: his dedication is brutal. He gives everything. He respects his work. And he deeply respects his team, which always touches me. They are essential for every night to happen, and he knows it.

Almost 40 years of career for someone who started without knowing how to sing. It’s impossible not to admire. Impossible not to be moved seeing what this journey has become. Impossible not to feel that we are witnessing something far greater than an artist: we are witnessing a force. Without you, Till Lindemann, none of this would be possible.

And that night, all of Vienna felt it.

And I, with very few videos and photos, experienced everything with my entire being. If this is a journalistic failure, I embrace it: it was the most beautiful failure of my life.

And I regret absolutely nothing.

I left the Stadthalle in silence. Heart racing, thoughts calm. I felt alive in a new way. Even without many records, I have what matters: I lived it all intensely. Completely. Profoundly. And I wouldn’t change a single second.