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.

Mundane Magic

After an especially grueling week of journalistic & studentistic rituals, I find myself in a smrinking mood as I, dear dramatic deviants, get to have a week-long holiday. So to start off this week of smrink, I decided to go look up some new songs to stock my iPod with. One cannot have a holiday without a soundtrack. T'is unheard of Gov'ner!

My darling Patrick then decided to introduce me to indie young guns,  The Johnny Divines. Now who Johnny is and why he's so divine I don't know, but these kids have got something. Allow me to introduce you to the fluffy wardens who get the very much sought after spot of being track 237 on the playlist to end all playlists: Leila's Holiday Soundtrack. 

(Pic stolen from the very talented Anne Marks, check her skills on deviantART)

The Johnny Divines is a 5-piece indie rock band that popped up in Jozi not too long ago. Their happy go lucky, roadtrip music is fun and, I shit you not, actually improves your mood.  Before I get into names and detail, let me just show you how they found their vocalist:

http://youtu.be/KkuswEISn4Q

Now that we have established that they are awesome, you may know their names.

First off, the man who got his gig through YouTube, Vince Solomons on vocals.

The girl who started it all, Amber Valentine (how cool is that name?) on guitar.

The gorgeous lad you might remember from Freddie Van Dango, Tate Sutton on drums.

From Jozi Flats & Inka Empire we have Geraint Boje on bass.

Last, but certainly not least, we have the man who started it all, Vincent Beukes on guitar.

Amber & Vincent started the band in 2010, but took their time finding musicians they wanted to work with. The current line-up was only set in mid-2012. In January 2013 their first single, Magic in the Mundane, was released in South Africa, France & the UK. Check it out: http://www.reverbnation.com/thejohnnydivines#

Aaand there's a music video: http://youtu.be/B9CSQyXNMKA

Fun fact: Four of their members are COPA-Jhb alumni: Amber, Tate, Geraint & Vincent.

Lots of talent coming from COPA the last few years, they must be doing something right. My guess is they probably stole some drinking water from Bellville and are feeding it to their students disguised as McDonald's drips. But that's just me.

Apart from inventing the 'Bellville water talent drip', the only logical thing for you to do now would be to go to Reverbnation, download Magic in the Mundane, and improve your quality of living. One cannot live without a soundtrack. T'is unheard of Gov'ner! 

Happy smrinking, live long and prosper, and any other nerdy farewells you can remember from your unfulfilled childhood. That is all.

Shane Durrant should narrate my life

MK Awards 2013. Ah yes, that time of year we've all been waiting for. If only to see how savvy our music taste is. So this year I thought I'd mix it up and actually go.

Except for spending the night with all my favorite muzos, there was also free tequila, so that kinda made up for them plastering Hyundai on my face at every turn. I mean seriously, don't you think the car on the stage was a bit much dears? But nevertheless, it faded to the background every now and then when it just could not overpower the awesomeness on stage.

And as you've probably heard from EVERYONE in the world by now: Shane Durrant is the fat fucking poo. He should just go ahead and present any and all shows in the future. This confused little hobo did his whole speech in a mondrone voice similar to that of my high school math teacher, to the absolute panty-dropping delight of the social media.
I vote he presents next year's entire awards ceremony. Those of you who do not agree: die.

Throughout this night of skinny jean glam, we were treated to a few live performances:

-Bittereinder, who was also the night's DJ

-Bouwer Bosch and Jaco van der Merwe

-ISO (formerly Isochronous) who killed it, of course. It's the lights I tell you!

-Spoegwolf

-Tailor: Okay pause. This lady you need to keep an eye on, her vocal performance is fucking mad. And she also beat the conniving shit out of a drum, which - if you believe in early glam rock - is always a plus.

- Van Coke Kartel: It's not even worth it. It's all been said. Just humbly sit in awe.

-The Black Cat Bones: This might be the greatest live band I've ever seen. And I've seen some awesome shit.

So the results were pretty predictable, which some may say is boring, but I think that just proves that all of South Africa are smart little bitches when it comes to music. We picked the obvious winners, and since we're on the subject: Can we ban Van Coke kartel from the awards in the future? No offence boys, we love you, but damn, there's just no competition when you're involved.

I know you already have all the results, but for those of you spending time under rocks in your mother's garden, here they are again:

• Best Newcomer: Gangs of Ballet - Hello Sweet World. I voted Goodnight Wembley, I gotta be honest. But nonetheless, well deserved. Keep two eyes on these boys. Better than Coldplay? Potentially...

• Best Group: Van Coke Kartel - Dis 'n land. And so it starts.

• Best Solo: Jeremy Loops - Howling. There's a good boy, now run along and take over the world.

• Best SFX/Animation: Haezer ft. Lark

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-f7K5yIKb0

• Best Dance: Johnny Neon - Hearts. It cost R15 to make this video. Epic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZcrILciHNI

• Best Rock: Van Coke Kartel - Dis 'n Land. Strike 2.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGdSyK81-U0

• Best Indie: Shortstraw - One Long Day. I think it was their RAMfest show that sealed it for me.

• Best Live Act: The Black Cat Bones. There was no competition. There could be no other.

• Best SA Music Festival: Oppikoppi 2012. Bahahaha. I told you. Idiot.

• Best Video: Van Coke Kartel - Tot die Son Uitkom. Strike three, you're out!

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_0vjii3oD4

• I would like to add an award that was somehow overlooked: Best Presenter: Shane Durrant. Yes. It had to be done.
 

So the end of the Van Coke Awards have come and gone. I had a drunken good time. Hopefully next year we'll see more of our upcoming geniuses there.

Once again I'm astonished at the amount of talent we have in our little part of the world. I'm going to quote excruciatingly talented photog, christelle Duvenage: "...gosh darnit! SA bands! You guys are tattoos on my heart!"

And end embarrassing display of affection =).

Now I'm off too Splashy, I'll inform you on my get highs and piss offs as soon as I return. Wish me luck bonnies & bastards, this weekend's gonna be a wet one!

Peace

Noodles & green beer

After an interesting Up the Creek, a mind-blowing Ramfest & a green beer induced streak across campus to cellphones pulsing Flogging Molly, I have come to the realization that my Irish heritage combined with an unhealthy obsession over South African music is the reason for my mental unruliness. It is also my (very legitimate, might I add) reason for being flat broke all the fucking time. Why, you might ask, do I endure months on end of two minute noodles? And not even Maggie two minute noodles, oh no, those are for the rich poor students. I'm talking Pick n Pay no name R1.99 two minute noodles. Which, by the fucking way, takes THREE fucking minutes to fucking microwave.

I do it for the music my dears. We all do it for the music.

So, if all of you are as obsessed as me, you're probably just as broke as I am by now. March was brutal. It's like the whole South African music industry decided hey, lets make a bunch of unmissable festivals & shows, price them all into the sky, put them all in the same month & see how many packets of noodles Leila is willing to eat. For the music my babe. For the music.

I guess i'm being a bit dramatic, 'cause despite all the starch, I got to do some awesome things. I got to bask in the glory of Bring me the Horizon. I got to scream my lungs out with Rise Against. I got to park on the grass next to Tamara Dey at RiseShineFest. I got to enjoy Park Acoustics many a time. I, for the first time ever, was quick enough to score an earlybird ticket for Oppikoppi. I get to go to Splashy. I get to go to the MK Awards. I, dear adorable bastards, get to do a shitload of things just because I'm willing to live off noodles.

Except for all the obviously awesome things that did and are happening this month, allow me to inform you of a few you most probably didn't even know of (shame on you):

Bri6ge, that quite awesome band I keep telling you about, have confirmed the rumors floating about that they will be recording their debut album in the next few months. Well well, looks like the new manager have these kids on the fast track. Well done, have some noodles.

Buckshot, a Durban-based band I have yet to actually hear (I have only heard of), played their first gig at Harlequins on the Bluff on 18 March. I would love to hear some feedback, cause all my 'source' can say is that the frontman had the voice of a drunken angel. I think she has a little crush. So she is stricken from the record. I need an objective opinion. Any takers? I'll give you some noodles.

And now skanks and pervs, the main event: You remember a while back I posted a lil' something about a defunct band called Old Brown and the Sherries? Well, joined by Chris Kennedy and Matt van Damme, the vocalist, Hugene Kokemoer and guitarist, Sias Olckers have now reemerged in a new outfit called The Barking Trees.


(I stole the pic from atonal magazine, I'm sure Faf won't mind.)

Sexy bitches aren't they?
And this is why you MUST get your unpolished asses to the Boh on 22nd March.. I'll be the drunken loud one being restrained by the popo. I will be forced to hate you if you don't show. Now don't expect to find Old Brown in there, this sound is very different. It's still got Hugene's teenage angst vocals, but the boys seem to have calmed down a bit. Or am I rudely mistaken? Well, we'll see on Friday now won't we. So come have a gander at my fave lil' pub and decide for yourselves. Maybe u likey, maybe you don't. Maybe you'll only come to enjoy the sight of that undeniably shaggable Sias, I really can't judge. Wink.


I bet you all three these bands have lived off no-name brand noodles at some point in their lives. Hell, I bet Metallica lived of noodles once upon a time. See? I'm right on track to becoming immortal. Bow before me infidels.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's 3:48 in the morning, and I have some fucking bad-ass noodles to make.

Plastic, and things of that nature

I need you to sit down. Close your eyes. Think of your middle school librarian: grey pencil suits, tight bunned up hair, thin-rimmed spectacles, and - what can only be reffered to as - puke brown 80's type loafers with a miserable excuse of a square, flat-ass heel.

I'd like to introduce you to my confused sister, Chora.

Now that this picture was painted, you can imagine my surprise and utter disconfuckulation when she called me last night and this played out:

Me: Why is the nunnery calling?
Chor: I'm at Mercury with Jared, and..
-Pause-
Jared is Chora's accountant fiance, who thinks that John Mayer is the best thing that's ever happened to music, so this statement started my confusion.
-Play-
Me: The planet? (The only answer that could possibly make sense at that moment)
Chor: No you idiot. Mercury Live.
-Cue the short circuit in my brain as I'm trying to connect the dots-
Me: Are you lost?
Chor (Wisely dedciding to ignore my question): Do you know The Plastics?
Me: Like tupperware and things of that nature?
Chor: The band, idiot.
Me: You know idiot is not a term of endearment, right?
Chor: Do you know them?
Me: I know of them.
Chor: You should know more, they're really good. For your kind of music, anyway.
Me: I must investigate this phenomenon! What be this that is pulling stick from sister's arse? I...
-Beep beep beep-
Me: The bitch hung up on me.
Ringo: Woof!

So I jumped on to google straight away as my brain just could not concieve what brillaince this band must be to get Mother Superior out of her Stepford House and into Mercury.

The brilliance was a four piece disco-ish partypunk poprock indie outfit from Cape town. Completely dissapointed in myself that I have not actually heard this band until Conan the Librarian informed me, I went all Chuck Norris on their asses and googled the shit out of them.



The muzos that make up this ensemble are Karl Rohloff (bass), Arjuna Kohlstock (lead guitar), Sasha Rhigini (drums) and Pascal Rhigini (vocals/guitar). Is it just me, or do their names sound vaguely like it should belong to members of some Russian lizard-alien resistance in Mass Effect or Star Wars?

They rose up from the ashes of the now defunkt punk band Hoax in 2007. How did I miss that? I'm loosing my touch it would seem. Smrinking to much? Impossible.

The Plastics have a huge cult following and have already released two EP's, two full length albums and a small annex full of singles and music videos. All without my knowledge. Bad Leila.
Now that I've discovered them however, I hear them everywhere. Occasional Lies on 5FM, Stereo Kids on Patrick's IPod and everything else I could find on soundcloud. I love Those Three Words & Underwater Kite.

Give these russian aliens a follow on Twitter: @ThePlastics
Or, just have a listen on SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/theplastics/occasional-lies

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a rooiwynsondag to duefully attack with my witty sobriety and a sister to hide from when she discovers my new nicknames for her.