Middle Fingers and Caterpillars

Ok, so a whole lot of shit has happened over the past few months, to recap:

- 2013 came to an end, thank God for that.
- I decided that UNISA can go die in a corner and gave them the finger.

- I made the uninformed decision to change my degree from Communication to Psychology and attempt said degree in Potch.
- I regretted said desicion almost as soon as I arrived.
- I missed Up the Creek
- I missed the MK Awards
- I missed Lamb of God
- I missed RAMfest (not that I didn't have a ticket, I was immersed in projects and tests and literally forgot about RAMfest (what?!)

- I dyed my hair to my natural colour for my cousin's wedding (which took place on the same day as the MK Awards. Bitch.)
- I promptly dyed it back a week later.
- I miss Wolves Cafe's sweet treats

- I have not been to a live show in over two months.
- I have not listened to any new music in over two months.
- I have, on more than one occasion, found myself home alone, emptying a 1.5l Four Cousins bottle of wine and watching back to back episodes of  New Girl

- I have given up wearing shoes
- I realized that cigarettes are really expensive when you no longer have a job
- Wine too
- I have decided that I like Laurika Rauch
- I have been kicking absolute ass at Psychology
- My creative writing class has revealed that I, in fact, suck at writing
- I find myself a little sad every time I walk past the STILL UNOPENED Arcade Empire on the 'Bult'
- I love Mystic Boer. Why does Jozi not have a Mystic Boer?
- I started painting again. Mostly Chewbacca.














Annnd that's about it. Potch is horrible. But it's weird charm is starting to grow on me. I will henceforth try to go to every live show possible and maybe at some point be able to give you a little insight as to what the local music scene is like, 'cause you can't rely on PukFM for that. "Meer as net radio" WTF is that even? How are you more than radio? You are literally just radio. I'm very tempted to start a pirate radio station and just kill all their ratings. Fuck, TuksFM, I miss you bastards.

On the bright side, I met that guy from Jack Rolling Dandy with the glorious moustache. It was like a furry strokeable caterpillar.

Stay awesome. Like furry caterpillars.
xx

Darth Vader was framed

The nerd in me nearly passed out when I heard about Disney's new project, Star Wars anyone? Eeeeeek! I'm a complete hopeless puddle of comic-con fuelled desperation whenever this cultural phenomenon is mentioned. I. Love. Star Wars. I probably own every piece of Star Wars memorabilia that one could have come across in my teenage years. Even a life-size Darth Vader. Yeah, Barney Stinson ain't got nothing on me. Bow to your queen padawans.

In glorious celebration of this geekiful turn of events, I have decided to introduce you to my list of Star Wars - inspired songs. Some of them are pretty awesome. And others - a lil' bit weird (cue rapping Yoda). The shit you can find on the internet is crazy.

1. A New Hope - Blink182

2. Put Yo Hood Up - Set your Goals (I promised rapping Yoda)

3. Supernova - Chewbacca

4. Weird Al - The Saga Begins (You can't skip Weird Al)

 

 

5. Reel Big Fish - Imperial March (a little SKA)

6. Rage Against the Machine - Imperial March (boom baby)

7. Star Wars Gangsta Rap (whaaaaat?)

8. Chris Bodily - Pretty Fly for a Jedi

9. The Presidents of the United States of America - Deathstar (Live at Groningen)

10. Eddie Izzard - Death Star Canteen (Oky, so this is not a song, but hell, Eddie izzard is a comedy genius and must be included. Deal with it.)

Now I will go watch all 7 the Star Wars movies out of pure fan-based extremity. And yes, Clone Wars count too.

Now scamper off and do the same. And may the force be with you.

Our Heritage

A few years back, I helped one of my dear friends read countless essays about what makes South Africa great. We were judging an essay competition for high-schoolers in light of the 2010 Heritage Day. A few years later, very unexpectedly, I got to know one of the authors a bit, now a 21 year old psychology student with an uncanny talent for writing. I thought I might share this essay with you as it makes me all peacocky proud every time I read it. I promised her to hush about her identity, so without further ado, I present to you the very Afrikaans final high school essay of she who shall not be named:

"Waar anders op hierdie reuse aarde sal jy 'n Nasionale Braaidag teekom? Ons het springbokke wat oor die vlaktes hardloop met die goue strepe van Afrika-sonstrale wat soos skadu's hulle navolg. Ons het leeukrete in die skemer na 'n lang dag van wildritte in die Kruger Nasionale Park. Ons het laataand vuurwerke en vroegoggend Maltabella. Ons het snoek en skyfies langs die Kaapse strand. Ons het Rocking the Daisies, Oppikoppi en Aardklop. Ons het Polisiekarre, Tuin Dwergies, Chameleons en Jan Blohm. Ons het Casper de Vries, Koos Kombuis en Lisa se Klavier."

"Ons het biltong & braaivleis, rooibostee en koue bier. Ons het Kaapse wynlande, sinkdakhuise, Amazi en straatbrakke. Ons het proteas en fynbos en Knysna-woude. Ons het monumente en kastele, ons het DJ Opperman. Ons het gewelhuisies en boeremeisies en skaapboud in die oond. Ons het Carike Keuzenkamp en kaalvoet in die reen. Ons het onderrig en geselskap in al elf ons moedertale. Ons het die uniegeboue, pap en wors, sushi en kerriekos. Ons het staatteaters, staatsbeamptes en staatsgevangenisse. Ons het All Gold en Mrs Ball's Chutney, ons het die Spur en Dros. Ons het Mr Price en goedkoop klere, ons het krieket, ons het gholf. Ons het Pukke, Tukkies, Maties, Kovsies en nog."

"Ons het Bafana Bafana, ons het Loftus, ons het haaie op 'n rugbyveld. Ons het Irma Stern en Maggie Loubscher en Die Ewige Kind. Ons het Boesmans, SAUK en Trompie se Boksombende. Ons het Trits en Kwart-voor-sewe-lelies, Tsotsi en Teuns Jordaan. Ons het Sonrotse en Sambonani."

"Ons het swart, wit, pienk, pers, geel en blou. Ons het mense van elke kultuur. Ons het Johannes Dlamini's, Angelina de Wette en Precious Kingston's. Ons het groen tee en fried rice, ons het mielies en Stork Margarien. Ons het voorvaders en nageslagte, Sangomas en Doktorsgrade. Ons het trignometrie, metafore, Valpre en Shebeens. Ons het Pick n' Pay en Superspar, Coca Cola en Sandton Square. Ons het Unisa, Bronx en Balletdansers, opera, Tropica, Mzanzi Magic en Ubuntu."

"Ons het Madiba en Van Riebeeck, Cell-C en swak sein. Ons het melktert, hertzoggies en wasabi, Sasko Sam en brandewyn. Ons het warm dae in Durban en koue winters by die Gariep. Ons het plastiek skoene van Bethulie en varkore in die tuin. Ons het karoobossies en rietrotte, vyekonfyt en Sally Williams Nougat. Ons het vir jou. Ons het vir my. Ons het Suid-Afrikaners."

"Ek is Suid-Afrikaans. Ek is trots Suid-Afrikaans." 

If this is the way our high-schoolers feel about our motherland, then this place can't be half bad. I now find myself all peacocky again and craving some fish an chips from a random street cafe. Lets hope at least half of the South African population feel this way about their country, 'cause it's pretty awesome.

I hope you all have a fabulous Heritage Day and spend it reveling in the beauty of our country and it's people. 'Cause we're pretty awesome too.

Enter the Bewilderbeast

Once a year I join about 20000 of my closest friends in a frenzy of music fuelled migration over the barren lands of Southern Africa to reach, in the middle of nowhere, the sleepy town of Northam, Limpopo. They come from far and wide. Cape Town, Windhoek, Australia, England, China. We are all pulled, like magnets, to this random piece of dusty farm, just outside of town. And here we gather, all different people - one ultimate goal: Peace, love & rock n roll baby!

Pack your bags adorable bastards, it's time for our annual trek to Oppikoppi.

Now I'm not sure how many times you have to attend to be hailed an Oppi veteran, but this being my 5th year, I believe I know a teeny bit about surviving Mordor. So I have decided to compile: (To be said in movie phone voice):

The Virgin Survival Guide

10 Steps to Surviving your First Oppikoppi



Your first Oppikoppi always turns out to be a hairy one. Especially when you and your two roommates decide that you want to attend three days before the festival begins. And you're all Oppi Virgins. And you get lost on the way. And it's just so much dust. But not to worry all musically deprived noobs. Let me make things a little easier for you:


1. Wet Wipes



You may forget to pack anything else, but these trustee little companions can not be left behind. Period. Oppikoppi's landscape is temperamental, and much like your old Archie comics: Fucking Dusty. Dust everywhere. Up your nose, in your hair, under your nails. Dust. Now wait, before you get your panties in a twist, yes there are showers. But they are limited. And the lines are long. You might find your self less inclined to worry about your hygiene when the mass of flip flop wearing shower devotees are complaining all the way down the line about the little hot water available while your friends are probably having a beer with Koos Kombuis.


2. In Dust we Trust



In the midst of all this dust, it might be a good idea to take a type of make-shift gas mask. A scarf works pretty well, and serves a double duty. Or you could just pick up a few of those face masky things that Mr Henno Kruger is so elegantly modelling for us, from the hardware shop. Either way, you don't want to develop asthma that triggers at the mention of a Jeremy Loops song.


3. Bikini Weather

Not so much. Like I said, Mordor is temperamental. And a lot like the desert. So much like the desert, it's face meltingly hot in the day, and hyperthermia inducing cold at night. Pack for both seasons. Your tent & night gear need to be nice & cosy, and your day dress needs ventilation. Or you will die. Like literally. In a metaphorical way. See what I did there.


4. Embracing your inner Top Gun

As customary with hot weather, there is sun. As customary with sun, there are sunglasses. Don't be afraid to spend a little on a good pair, those randelas will not die in vain.


Your sunglasses will be your best friend at Oppi, and your eyes will thank you for it. Not only will they save your koekelookers from the blistering wrath of Ra, they also double up as nifty anti-dust-in-your-eye-saving-you-from-blindness-protector-thingys.


5. Sunblock

Dust. Sun. Desert. Come on genius.

6. These Boots were made for Walking




I can not stress this enough. Honey, your Gucci gold embellished pumps will not last two hours in Mordor. Get a pair of Oppi boots. My Oppi boots were a gift from my darling idiot brother, they lie in wait in my cupboard covered in 4 years of glorious Oppi dust.

No matter your poison, be it gumboots, ankle boots, biker boots. Get a pair of boots. Trudging through the dust & thorns can be an unpleasant activity and can be fatal to your favourite pair of loafers.

They also double up as a toe-mashing weapon of mayhem during moshpits. Peeps with cameras need to protect themselves.



7. Aqua

Amorous amounts of alcohol plus dizzying dry heat often pair up to cause dehydration. You don't want that, so have some water handy at your campsite. Inside the gates there are plenty bars who all sell bottled water, but I would recommend the H2O tent. I don't really know what it's called, but it's this cool tent where you pay once of for an official Oppikoppi water bottle and you get to refill it for free with all the water you can drink throughout the festival.


8. I want to make the whole world silky smooth




As I have explained the shortage of hot water and shower availability, dry shampoo is a girl's best friend. A hair-cleaning phenomenon that needs no water. I wish I had discovered this sooner. My first Oppikoppi I was walking around with dirty, matte hair by the second day. My second Oppikoppi I tried washing my hair at the campsite in cold water. My brain was burning. Too.fucking.cold. But no more I tell you! No more!


9. Let there be Light

Mordor is dark at night. You are either intoxicated, or high, or both. Your tent looks exactly the same as about 2000 other peoples'. You did not set up camp in Boom Straat. Don't make things harder for yourselves dears, take a flashlight.

Even though the flashlight probably won't help you find your tent, and you'll wake up the next morning next to your new best friend, Frikkie, being force fed pink marshmallows and camp coffee, it'll make your late night wandering a bit easier. So you can find friends with a vague idea of what they look like. And you can make disco lights at people who pass by. Disco disco.





10. Le Musique

 

No matter from where you brave the long, medium length or short road to Oppi, it can not be braved in silence. An Oppikoppi playlist must be made! I suggest starting with the Oppikoppi Bewilderbeast Album. It features a lot of the bands that are playing Oppi this year. You can buy it here. Any road trip must have a soundtrack. Make one. Now.


Your first Oppikoppi is always where you learn the most and, dare I say it, harvest the most unforgettable memories. So here's to the virgins, for we will never again have what they do: Our first Oppikoppi experience.

Embrace it, cherish it, lick it if you must, you'll have the time of your life.

See you in the finals xx

Tribute to the Road Dogs

My granny is one badass mofo. You cannot beat the awesomeness that is her flabby grey self, but oh, like most people in my family, she was left outside when they revealed the skill of gift-giving. I have received many questionable gifts from this fair lady. Let's have a quick flashback to the horrors that have made their way to me through pink polka dotted wrapping & bows:

- A Britney Spears CD
- Ugg Boots
- Crocs
- A "Gooi Mielies" T-Shirt that read: 'Ouma se klein Bloubul' (Whaaaaa...????)
- A Kurt Darren CD
- Tickets to Justin Bieber

Now, I love my gran, but you can understand why I was less than enthusiastic when she visited last week & brought me another polka-dot wrapped surprise. She assured me that the man at the store promised I would love it. Much like he promised I would love 'Meisie, Meisie." Who is this idiot and why is he allowed to prey on delusional grandmothers like this? Off with his head I say!

So the pink little package was to be opened while darling Granny Rose stood by in anticipation. Well, this was a surprise all right. "Al Bairre?"



Turns out this 'man at the store' was my gran's neighbor who spends all his time on soundcloud.

I knew of this Indie masterpiece that was taking the South African music scene by storm. But, sadly, I had not had a chance to experience these 'aggressively unfancy' people. Listen to my genius fair people of the land! Listening to their music is like being inside a hipster's handbag; It's a very happy place.

Al Bairre consists of 5 very talented bonnies & bastards:

-Kyle Davis
-Tom Kotze
-Tessa Johnson
-Julia Johnson
-Nick Preen

Now there's no way for me to fairly say who plays what instrument, 'cause except for drummer Tom Kotze (as drumming is kind of a full time gig, using most of your limbs and such), everyone kind of plays everything. And they do have everything. Violin. Cello. Even ukulele.
Super talented twins Tessa & Julia is what got me though. And then I read that they're from Belville. Of course they're from Belville. Nothing else would make sense.

The name of the band was, as is completely expected, gnawing at my brain. It sounded French-ish? But Google translate did not agree. So I dumped the translate and just tried Google. I came across an article on 'Gray Matter' (A blog by Gray Kotze: http://graykotze.wordpress.com) that solved the mystery for me:

 “Tessa, as usual, was late”, describes Preen. “The twins live in Belville and they were driving to Hout Bay – where we reside. We were in a panic ‘cause we had a show later that night, so we were trying to get them to rush here. Tessa was talking on the phone – while smoking whatever she was smoking – and she drove over a dog somewhere along Constantia Neck. So she pulled over to see whether the dog was O.K. – it wasn’t O.K., ‘cause it was dead. On the collar of the dog’s tag was ‘Al Bairre’ so,ja, we felt that we had to name the band that now that the dog died. I suppose we’re actually a tribute band.”

Not how most bands get their names. Keeping it interesting. 

I think I'm a little in love with this band. Mostly because there music makes you feel like summer breezes. And daisy fields. And makes all the fucktards in the world melt into an awesome bowl of chocolate custard that tastes like rainbows & magic. You're training hipsters. You do realize that right?

Just to be more awesome, here's a video:

Now I'm gonna go dream of butterflies and caramel fountains in the glitter of the moonlight.



I really need to add more metal to my playlist.
Next track: AnythingGoryInvolvingOveruseOfTheWordFuck. Don't you dare turn me soft with your hippy tunes.

PS: You go Gran!

Peacexx

Allow me to digress..

So this is a bit off topic, but I just happened upon the most beautiful poem to ever grace us with it's awesomeness in all of planet Earth & most of the moons of Endor. It's very Afrikaans so my neighbor-lady-person had to kind of take me step by step, but damn, I want to marry this man. Read it. Embrace it. French kiss it. Buy it a drink.

I give you Florauna by Andre Le Toit (who also happens to be Koos Kombuis, thus adding to its sheer awesomeness):

ek wil vir jou 'n gewelhuisie bou
in die boland van my hart
met 'n peerboom in die tuin
en vaatjies wyn in die kombuis
en 'n tuinhekkie met krulle
en boekrakke met sartre
ek wil vir jou 'n gewelhuisie bou
in my onderkaap van smart
met skepe in die hawe
en donssaad op die berg
en jy in lewende lywe
op die stoep, in jou kombers
in die winterboland van my hart.
jy kom van 'n groot glaskasteel
met kandelare en wolkatte
en toffies toegedraai in bordjies
en poedels op plaveisel
jy's gewoon aan kaapse weer
jou tekkies is geparfumeer
maar ek wil vir jou my lewe gee
in die wit afdophuisie van my hart

And this little bitch turned me into a blubbering idiot, frantically searching through my personal library for some kind of Jane Austen book.

Bow to Koos Kombuis all ye infidels, for he is the fat fucking poo.
That is all.

Something kind of epic

I recently had a fair bit of my brain give up on me. But apparently that's fairly normal after your first Metallica show.  

It's hard for me to describe my experience, 'cause all that comes out when I try to explain it is: "It's Metallica." But when you think about it, that's really all there is to say. There is no adjective powerful enough to describe the face melting sweat-stained abortion that went down in my limbic system when those crazy old fuckers descended upon the stage at the FNB stadium in Jozi.

After hours waiting in line (only to discover that we were, in fact, in the wrong one), bribing a security guard & almost knocking a few people the fuck out (YOU DON'T CUT IN LINE AT A METALLICA CONCERT, ARE YOU FUCKING MENTAL, THESE PEOPLE WILL CUT YOU), we finally made it to the pathetic golden circle bar. This was starting to be a not so fun day. 

First act: Chromium

Okay, so Chromium has always been one of those bands where I think they could be brilliant, but they never seem to quite cut it. They've got the talent, the following, the opportunities, but always seem to leave me a tad disappointed. Bummer.

Second act: Pestroy

One of my festival favorites, Pestroy always gets my panties in a twist. Somehow making it into the mainstream heads as well as keeping our underground metal scene solidly going. At this point, the whole 'no smoking' rule in the stadium was stabbed, buried, and we were dancing on its grave. So I was smrinking in my happy place with Pestroy as the soundtrack. My night turned right around.

By then you could kind of feel the atmosphere was changing, like we were those old school desert wanderers who could feel a sandstorm coming. Something big was coming. Metallica was fucking coming.

When the first sounds of their ever known intro started over the speakers, my brain kind of shut down. When the first crazed shout of 'Hit the Lights' hit my lights right the fuck out, I was lost. After Master of Puppets there was no more hope. They had taken my brain hostage, and it didn't want to be saved. The rest of the night was a sense-exploding blur of lights, smoke & the background music to my youth. The set list was predictable (if  you've watched every live Metallica DVD ever released she admitted guiltily) but awesome none the less. I remember feeling like I might just die right there and then when the thousands of kindred spirits behind me sang Enter Sandman almost louder than the band. That, dear deviants, is by far the coolest feeling ever. The set list pummeled forward as follows:

-Hit the Lights

-Master of Puppets

-Ride the Lightning

-Harvester of Sorrow

-Fade to Black

-The Memory Remains

-Cyanide

-Sad but True

-Welcome Home (Sanitarium)

-Orion

-One

-For Whom the Bell Tolls

-Blackened

-Nothing Else Matters

-Enter Sandman

-Creeping Death

-Battery

-Seek & Destroy

I must take a moment to say that their pyrotechnics were spot on as well. Every time Mr Hetfield yelled 'Fire' during Blackened the ensuing towers of fire that shot from the stage made me feel like I was witnessing some witchy sacrificial ritual. Fucking awesome.

Even though I miss the angst driven desperation I caught in their first few bootleg shows, these guys have got the art of performance down to a T. The show was spectacular, the atmosphere was electric & the band made the audience a part of the show, rather than performing at them. Well done ou balies, well fucking done.

I only realized how loud the show must have been when we were on our way home & my ears were less than co-operative. I was in such a bowled over state of mind, that I didn't even notice I left my bag with my camera & cellphone by the wash basins when we stopped for a quick wee at the Shell after the show. Upon realizing this, we turned back, only to find that, of course, someone had jacked it. But you know what, even though I felt suicidal the next morning, at that moment, I didn't care. I got to see Metallica live. And judging from Lars's hairline, that might not be a possibility for too many years to come. 

I, in turn, jacked a few pics from howzit.msn & Gallo Images so you could at least see a bit of what I experienced.

That's my eargasm face.

 

Photo by: Madelene Cronje (M&G)

Bottom Line: Dude, it's Metallica.