The night I black-lipsticked myself back into 2000—and it was glorious.
The 69 Eyes. A band of my youth.
Alongside HIM, they basically were my youth. Blessed Be (2000) was one of my all-time favourite albums when I was fifteen—right around the same time Razorblade Romance dropped and flung me headfirst into one of the most intense, eyeliner-smeared, emotionally fraught years of my life.
With HIM’s breakthrough came a whole wave of goth rock bands, and The 69 Eyes were right there with them. Sure, they’d been around since 1989, but it wasn’t until their seventh album Paris Kills (2002) that they really hit it commercially. By that point, though, I was already in deep—fully in love with Wasting the Dawn (1999) and Blessed Be, and blissfully unaware of anything that came before or after. I somehow even missed Paris Kills entirely. I caught Lost Boys from 2004’s Devils, but beyond that? Nothing. And still, somehow, they remained one of my favourite bands of all time. Maybe it’s just what those years between 15 and 19 do to you. Some music gets branded onto your bones.
Anyway. A few weeks ago I stumbled back across The 69 Eyes while researching for the blog. On a whim, I put on their most recent album West End (2019) and was immediately psyched to hear Dani Filth’s voice. I ended up liking several songs. Then—perfect timing—the Gotta Rock European Tour 2023 was announced. And they were coming to Hamburg. A band I’d loved for decades, but never seen live? Yes. Yes, obviously. I was in.
I dug out my old necklace. Ripped-up shirt. Applied black lipstick for the first time in twenty years. I was ready.
Goths, Grown Up
Arriving at the venue, I was hit by the comforting realisation that the crowd had aged with the band. The sea of corsets, fishnet tights and theatrical makeup had mellowed. Mostly. Some brave souls were still in full gothic regalia, bless them—but the majority were dressed pretty casually, and I loved that. Like a class reunion with more hoodies.
Support came from The Other, a horror punk band from Cologne. I didn’t know them, nor did I know anything about horror punk, so I was curious. And honestly? They were great. Thirteen songs of pure energy, solid hooks, and instant sing-along moments. I was humming along by the third track, and by the end—What It’s Like to Be a Monster—I was properly hyped.
Flash, Fangs & Full-Hearted Howling
Then: lights dim. After Dark by Tito & Tarantula begins to play. My inner sixteen-year-old absolutely loses her mind.
The 69 Eyes take the stage. Jussi 69’s absurdly flashy drum kit is already doing half the talking. The man understands drama. But the moment Jyrki steps forward? That’s it. I’m done. Howling, cheering, smiling like a complete maniac. He’s still every bit the charismatic frontman I imagined he’d be, and I cannot look away—except maybe to sneak glances at Archzie and Timo-Timo, who are standing directly in front of me and giving the absolute most.
The picture of the setlist features Timo-Timo's footprints on it and is a courtesy of my new-found soul twin Ankka.
(See Editor's Note)
Teenage Dream, Reawakened
The absolute highlights, of course, were the songs I’ve carried in my bones since 2000: The Chair, Gothic Girl, Wasting the Dawn, Brandon Lee, Framed in Blood… I screamed every lyric like it was still scrawled in gel pen on my school notebook. But I was also thrilled to hear newer tracks like Cheyenna and Gotta Rock, which have been surprisingly sticky in my brain since West End.
Had they played Burn Witch Burn or Lay Down Your Arms, Girl, my soul would’ve simply exited my body.
They ended on Lost Boys, which—honestly—was perfect. I was sweaty, euphoric, and filled with this ridiculous, joyful teenage glee I hadn’t felt in years. It didn’t feel like nostalgia. It felt like resurrection.
If The 69 Eyes return to Hamburg again, I’ll be there. No question.
Thank you, boys, for bringing back my youth for a night. For making me feel happy, lighthearted, and gloriously carefree. For giving me a reason to dance— just like a gothic girl.
Editor’s Note 🖤 (04/2025)
That soul twin I mentioned? Her name’s Ankka.
She didn’t see me at the concert. She saw Chris—my husband—taking a picture of me in front of the venue while she was still sitting in her car across the street with her boyfriend.
Watched me try (and fail) to strike a decent Instagram pose. Later, when I posted the photo? She recognised me. Sent a message.
We started chatting and realised our lives had already almost collided several times before. It was weird. And a little spooky. And absolutely wonderful.
We’ve been friends ever since. We’ve already gone to another 69 Eyes show together. And this August, we’re flying to Helsinki.
Why?
For the Charon reunion.
Because sometimes life gives you eyeliner, a second chance at teenage joy, and a fellow vampire to scream lyrics with in the dark.
Wouldn’t have thought that kind of thing still happens at my age.
Turns out, it does. And it absolutely fucking rules. 🖤🖤🖤