HANK VON HELL

ULLEVI, GOTHENBURG

There’s something charming about a middle-aged man shouting “We’ve gotta fake it ’til we make it!” to 75,000 empty pouting for the camera, wiggling his hips, committing to key change no matter how pained he looks. It wouldn’t be a birthday party without guests, would it? Guernica Mancini’s vocals on Crown threaten to dwarf Hank before he one-ups her, getting on his knee and proposing: “I believe in marriage, so I do it all the time.” Then you’ve got Motörhead’s Mikkey Dee drumming during Bum Hank doesn’t propose to him – he collapses, fake blood oozing from his mouth, middle finger raised. It could’ve been longer. He could’ve done some stuff from his former band, Turbonegro. But as Hank rips through Am – the best pop-punk chorus not written by a pop-punk band – you can’t accuse him of half-arsing it.