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