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First Phillies baseball playoff appearance in over a decade, as well as the Sixers beginning the basketball season and a Flyers hockey game, still the Fillmore was packed, so much so that the Sabaton merch lines zig-zagged through the venue, well into Epica's opening set. The merch line was longer than the beer line! Moms & Dads with their pre-teens, plenty of Gen X and Gen Y folks too, all plunking down $45 for a t-shirt. What's truly amazing is that the Swedes have made an era, when much of the world lacked practical applications of electricity, and still using horses, for transportation, relevant to a generation raised on Xbox, cellphones and the Internet. For much of the crowd, that was the time of their great-grandparents (whom they probably never met), yet there they stand, rocking out to tales of an oft overshadowed global conflict, as the potential for another blares from the daily headlines. 

To start the evening, there's a pre-recorded appeal to have WWI memorial erected in Washington DC, flashed across the video screen behind drummer Hannes Van Dahl (who was perched atop a formidable, double barrel military vehicle). Then Sabaton charge onstage to the rousing "Ghost Division", the lone holdover from a decade ago. Well, at least in the proper (pre-encore) set. In fact, much of the material is fresh faced recruits. "Steel Commanders" (their collaboration with a video game company), a non-album track, is but a month old. Joakim Brodén, mirror sunglasses, Mohawk haircut and steel breastplate flak jacket, is a ball of energy, running from one end of the stage, to the other, then stopping to go through his weightlifting pose down routine, or demonstratively punch the air. Barbed wire is coiled across the front of the stage and there are sandbags behind the drummer's mobile arsenal, making it look like a war landscape. Sadly, the pyro and explosions that are part of the overseas experience are absent, other than a video simulation. Having seen the band since '09, what's noticeable with Sabaton 2022 is the increased presence each band member now has onstage, be it with vocal spotlights (talking about you, guitarist Tommy Johansson) or a segment of the show where Van Dahl gets a chance to talk to the crowd and introduce a song. It's no longer entirely the comedic province of Brodén. Content, as always, to sit back, survey and enjoy from afar, mastermind/bassist Pär Sundström bounces around, occasionally lifting his camouflage-painted four-string overhead.

Like the name implies "Stormtroopers" came and conquered, Johansson proving Yngwie ain't the only Swede who can blaze up and down the fretboard. It's followed by "The Red Baron", which sees all aboard, apart from the singer, who temporarily departs the stage. The video screen takes us soaring through the clouds, interspersed with overlays of the live action onstage. Brodén gets the crowd to sing along ("Higher!"), but it won't the last time tonight. Not by a long shot. In an eerie green lit haze, up to the first chorus, "The Attack Of The Dead Men" has the band playing in gas masks. A tale of chemical warfare, the singer not only sports a mask, but a twin canister backpack, spewing fog. Interesting how he sings in that contraption, although he's aided throughout by Johansson. An impromptu poll reveals most are seeing the band for the first time. As scenes of mountaintops whiz by, onscreen, they launch into "Soldier Of Heaven", from the new album, although the single was an early, post-pandemic release. The track certainly had a lot of promotional juice (especially amongst the youngsters), online, but not still not convinced of its worth, as a live cut, especially in the absences of more intense, perennial favorites/oldies like "40:1", "The Art Of War" and/or "Cliffs Of Gallipoli". 

Initially, red searchlights sweep the stage to introduce "Steel Commanders", then it goes all white. It almost feels like a video game, or at least a video come to life, as the two guitarist (Tommy and Chris Rörland) meet center stage, as the piped in choir blares from the speakers. Afterwards, the stage goes black, before the Jumbotron screen re-illuminates the hall, showing the Swedish flag. Cue: "Carolus Rex", the singer now decked out in a vintage military overcoat/outfit, similar to those used in the video. Yellow tinted "Gott Mit Unis" has Rörland begin the Swedish sung anthem. Brodén bounces in place (getting many in the crowd to likewise buy into his exercise routine) as Johansson take lead vocals for a verse, then moves to the opposite side of the stage, alongside Sundström. There's a brief respite, during the pre-recorded intro to "Night Witches", the band re-emerging under a thick coating of red lights, which quickly gives way to white strobes the speedy track warrants. When not pumping his first overhead, Brodén plays air guitar with the mic stand (song really inspires listener participation!).

Every time the stage goes black for an extended period, the "Sabaton!" chant begins in earnest. The sounds of ocean, lapping waves, and pulsating blue orbs greets the slower metered "Dreadnought". If you get sea sick easily, avert your eyes from the rolling waves on the vid screen. Once Johansson concludes his mid-song guitar interlude, the singer gets the fans to clap or thrust their fists in the air. "Shiroyama" is a return to the over-the-top exuberance (and a few old school synchronized stage moves) as a lyric video plays behind them. Chris and Tommy square off, center stage. Lots of flailing hair (well at least from Tommy and Par) for "The Last Stand", which begins with all but Brodén onstage, under chartreuse spotlights, with ancient Rome CGI images onscreen. Essentially a piano ballad, "Christmas Truce" sees the lights dim (is that an oxymoron?) and, at the bassist's behest, cell phones illuminated throughout the darkened venue. From the back of the hall (and probably also, onstage) it's a neat effect, even if the guys playing are barely visible. One of the biggest ovations of the night and just as the proper set closes.

Fear not, the boys are back for a few more songs, and a couple of oldies in the mix, kicking off with "Primo Victoria". The dark stage is broken by the appearance of a TV set, showing about a minute of Allied bombing, D-Day invasion and other WWII footage (despite nearly no one having television in the 40s). When complete, in a plume of video flames, Sabaton literally bounds onstage, pogoing in place. When Brodén says "jump," the audience obliges, en masse. With Tommy visiting Hannes, it's Chris' moment to shine, stagefront, imploring the crowd to make more news. Speaking of audience participation, "Swedish Pagans": plenty of singing and clapping along. Johansson gets the crowd riled up, guitar solo/runs turns into the tell-tale rhythm, much to Brodén's (fake) disdain. Following a few bars of AC/DC's "Highway To Hell", courtesy of Johansson, it's time to sign off to the fans. A whistle heralds "To Hell And Back", the tale of war hero Audie Murphy. As such, the image of an American flag is repeatedly flashed behind the band (the Swedes' logo eventually emblazoned on the Stars & Stripes), a flag waving send-off to the evening. 

Come back soon. Given the troubles foreign bands are having securing a visa, to tour (and their limited duration) can almost guarantee this won't be a last stand. Bet they'll return sometime in 2023.