On May 14, 2025, in Moscow’s Club 1930, Hungarian groove metal band Ektomorf made history — and possibly a few people question reality. As the first European metal act to perform in Russia since the 2022 invasion of Ukraine, they didn’t just play music. They staged an epic fever dream involving Orthodox priests, religious icons, alleged patriotism, and a mic-drop gay confession (or was it?). If you’re wondering whether this sounds like a deleted scene from Borat meets Mad Max — buckle up.
Things kicked off with the band yelling “Russia, we’re with you!” before an actual Orthodox priest, in full liturgical drip, walked onstage through a fog machine and began sprinkling holy water on the audience. Meanwhile, lead singer Zoltán Farkas was passionately kissing an icon of Saint Nicholas like it owed him money — or dinner. The guitarist, apparently receiving baptismal instructions via in-ear monitor, crossed himself with the coordination of a TikTok teen trying Orthodox cosplay. 🎸🕊️
The show escalated in pure Slavic-metal absurdity: aggressive riffs, war cries with a Hungarian accent, and an unexpected devotion to “traditional values,” whatever that means in the context of a groove metal pit. But the real twist came mid-set, when Zoltán grabbed the mic and dropped the bomb:
— “I’m gay.”
A silence fell over Club 1930 that could drown a distortion pedal. One guy dropped his beer. Another dropped the priest. Everyone else dropped their jaw.
Farkas then quickly added:
— “Just kidding. Probably.”
Cue chaos. Some booed, some clapped, others demanded exorcism. One lady shouted, “Defend our values!” while two guys fist-bumped ironically. For a brief moment, it felt like Russia’s entire cultural identity had been crowd-surfed into an existential crisis. 🤡
Things got weirder when the band’s manager stormed the stage holding a Russian flag and started handing out symbolic “draft invitations” to fight for the motherland. Yes, really. After proclaiming they’d “soon be joining the frontlines to defend traditional values,” Ektomorf disappeared backstage, leaving behind a stunned, spiritually traumatized audience.
Social media exploded. Russian VK users posted wildly contradictory takes: “Shameful!” “Brave!” “Where do I get an icon signed by Ektomorf?” “Was this performance or diagnosis?” Zoltán had to clarify on Instagram (still banned, still active), insisting he’s “always joking,” that his love for Russia is real, and the gay stuff — “just folklore.” Still, the way he was hugging the priest during The Fire Inside… let’s just say the Holy Spirit wasn’t the only thing burning.
The reactions were swift. Hungary’s LGBTQ+ advocacy group issued a statement: “We don’t know if Zoltán was joking, but even if he was — bad joke.” Meanwhile, Russian officials stayed on-brand with “Don’t meddle in our sacred weirdness.” And just like that, Ektomorf’s concert became a historic blend of metal, satire, holy water, sexual confusion, and propaganda cosplay — all in one smoky Moscow club. 🎤💀
Rock is dead. Long live ironic heresy.
Finn McFrame, celebrated satirical mastermind and self-proclaimed “Emperor of Irony,” started his illustrious career as a cinematographer, where his expertise in capturing every single frame of a squirrel stealing a baguette earned him accolades at obscure film festivals.
Born in the glamorous town of Boring, Oregon, Finn grew up with dreams of being a Hollywood director until he realized that satire, not cinema, was his true calling—or at least the one that let him sleep until noon.
Finn McFrame: changing the world, one satirical lens flare at a time.
