Select An AI Action To Trigger Against This Article
Ozzy Osbourne’s voice bellowed over the sound system of the Independence of the Seas as I pressed my fork into a stack of all-you-can-eat pancakes. I sat hypnotized by calming ocean waves, while Tony Iommi’s guitar riffs on the Black Sabbath album “Sabotage” provided a head-banging soundtrack to breakfast.
This was one of the more peaceful moments aboard the 70,000 Tons of Metal cruise, a four-day heavy metal vacation that sailed roundtrip from Miami to Jamaica on a Royal Caribbean ship. If you are into chugging death metal with guttural vocals by Incantation, headbanging to vintage Swedish doom by Candlemass or surfing a mosh pit to Sepultura’s “Dead Embryonic Cells” on a pool deck, this is the cruise for you.
The first day was a disorienting rush to board the ship, which is a complex maze of hallways. In January, the 60 heavy metal bands that would play two sets each attracted more than 3,000 guests from 81 countries. Tickets started at $1,853 and could go as high as $14,306, depending on upgrades for the all-inclusive (minus alcohol) party at sea.
Pulling my roller bag up the ramp onto the ship, I met people from Belgium, Sweden and every corner of America. The passengers formed an ocean of black T-shirts covered in skulls and gothic lettering. There were spiked wristbands, chains, piercings, tattoos, fishnet stockings and battle vests — sleeveless denim jackets covered with band patches.
People who have attended the cruise call themselves “survivors,” a reference to the amount of music and long nights. Some people I met have been on nine sailings in the cruise’s 15-year history.
By 5 p.m., the first bands hit three indoor stages; the outdoor pool deck stage is under construction until the second day. The first bands I saw were Twilight Force, Sonata Arctica, Hammerfall and Kalmah, all power and melodic metal from Europe. The venues were packed, crowds screaming along.
On the second day of the cruise, guests on the pool deck were offered a free spraying of sunscreen by “pool boys and girls” employed by the cruise. The wind picked up, and anyone not holding on to their hats lost them flying off into the water. The members of Incantation were doing a meet-and-greet with fans. They agreed to have dinner with me, and the drummer sarcastically stated they would be sacrificing a goat beforehand.
I noticed guests with children, even a stroller with a 6-month-old. There was a front-row hot tub just beyond the mosh pit facing the stage, dominated daily by Germans in bikinis. The ship made a brief stop in Jamaica, but I didn’t get off. At 3 a.m., the weather rocked the ship more than usual. A skeleton crew of hardcore fans, though quite drunk, started a circle mosh pit to some band shredding riffs until the nightly closing time of 7 a.m.
On Sunday, the last day, the cruise held its annual Belly Flop Contest. I headed for some backstage time with Suffocation as they prepared to play. Lead guitarist Terrance Hobbs and bass player Derek Boyer set up their guitar pedals and amps as vocalist Ricky Myers synced a monitor. As I lifted my camera to begin photographing, I realized I had white corpse paint all over my cameras from spending time with a black metal band earlier.
Swedish metal legends Candlemass arrived and were grateful to fans that greeted them sidestage. Members of Chicago’s Trouble came back to socialize. There was zero ego here, and a lot of gratitude for having a lengthy career. When Candlemass started their set, the crowd roared to the doom guitar riff tearing through the speakers, which echoed over the Caribbean waters.
On the final night, I shadow the “skipper,” Andy Piller, a Swiss music promoter who founded the cruise. He is well-known and a beloved personality. Several guests stopped him to ask for a selfie and thanked him for his annual work on the event. Though there were several other metal cruises, this is considered the one that started it all.
On the pool deck, Sepultura took the stage for their final performance. The mosh pit struck a feverish pitch. The mass launched multiple crowd-surfers toward stage-front security, where they would be lowered and returned to the group. After the last band, the final tradition is costume night. I saw a nun, a Christmas tree and Ronald McDonald.
The next morning, faces ranged from exhausted to exhilarated. The ship docked back in Miami and guests began to disembark. Onshore, reality set in as rideshares to the airport surged to $80, nearly three times what it took to get here. The real absurdity set in on the cab’s radio: The news of the world was depressing. At the airport, any expression of individuality thinned out into a sea of normality.
At my gate, I was surrounded by people talking on their phones, screaming kids and arguing adults. So, I put on noise-canceling headphones, started blasting the new Suffocation album and felt much better.
Louie Palu is a documentary photographer and filmmaker based in Washington, D.C., whose work focuses on social-political issues such as war, human rights, and poverty. See more on his Instagram @louiepalu.