Friday, November 13, 2015


Look Ma! No hands...

It's been a while...

You may ask yourself, in your best David Byrne impression, what the fuck I've been up to? And the truth, as much as it'll set you free after pissing you off, is rather less exciting than I would normally have you believe.

I've been working.
I've been suffering from an extreme lack of giving enough of a shit to entertain you.

Ok, let's rewrite that...

I've been working... extremely hard at getting an album ready for your listening pleasure.
I've been suffering for my art and now the time has come to share the results of this labour of love, blood, sweat and tears. Myself, Matt Daemon, Catcher In The Ry and our own intrepid producer who shall remain nameless for security reasons as well as not wanting to be part of anyone's lives in any way, have been slaving over this so that we may entertain you.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to take this opportunity to capitalise on my return from the online wastelands to announce the imminent release of SUBVERS's debut album, appropriately (if a little self-indulgently) named 'BLOODSTAINED EULOGIES'. Catchy, innit?

We have been working feverishly for, well, forever on this and the results are in! It's magnificent!

But don't trust my clearly very biased opinion on the matter. You are invited to decide for your very discerning self! Marking the occasion of the album's official birth, in a manner not unlike Mufasa holding Simba aloft like a proud parent finally showing off his progeny to the world, we, SUBVERS, will be performing the album in its entirety on Saturday the 21st of November at our favourite haunt, Mercury Live in Cape Town. But wait! There's more! If you click on the event NOW we'll throw in some extra surprises and even - if you've been extra good this year - a new song. Nothing but the best for our adoring fans! And to sweeten the pot a little - as if that's even needed - our friends ZERO STROKE will do us the honour of sharing the stage with us!

And speaking of honour, it is my distinct privilege to wish the indefatigably inspirational Neal Goldwyer a glorious, grandiose HAPPY BIRTHDAY! May your wishes - no matter how lurid - all come true.

Spread The Love. Lube Up For Some SUBVERSion...

Tuesday, September 8, 2015


Daphne had the most annoying tartar build up...
  1. Eagles Nest - used to be the best thing since rainbow parties. I have been there time and time again since I was fortunate enough to discover this tucked away gem in the Constantia winelands. I've made a point to bring just about everyone who has ever visited me from out of town, and even some locals. I have had the best times there and enjoyed sterling service along with some wonderful wines. Then they put in extra benches and doubled their prices. And now... apparently you're not worth bothering over if you're not dressed in the latest fashion from the men's section of Queenspark and schmoozing about like you're a founding member of the Sunday Morning Stodels fraternity. It most certainly needs to be pointed out that the shocking service and attitude our very large table received on Sunday morning was unforgivable. If they had ANY idea of the spending power they collectively pissed off, they'd have choked on their own haughty indifference. Thanks a lot. Although I'm sure my business won't be missed, you've lost a life long devotee. 
  2. The new ETV jingle - if you've heard the abomination that is the revamped channel jingle, you'll understand.
  3. Life getting in the way of me getting to make music with my maatjies. Between meetings, deadlines and irritable bowel syndrome, I was denied my heavy hearted enjoyment of all things DOOMY last night.
  4. Not being able to post as often as I used to...
  5. The winter weather prohibiting me from doing my outdoor exercise.
  6. Little shits breaking car windows out of spite.
  7. Vacuum cleaners. Especially vacuum cleaners used early on weekend mornings by the kid next door obsessively cleaning his car.

The list is like my disgust for humankind. Eternal.

But today is actually NOT about things that suck.
Today is a glorious day! Filled with candyfloss clouds, rivers of booze, mountains made from the finest, softest boobs, and - at least in metaphysical ideal - the never ending blowjob. Things have gone full circle. You never go full circle! Hmmmmm...


Happy birthday, you wandering, wonderful gypsy!

May the universe smile down on you with as much warmth, grace, joy and love as you bring to those of us lucky enough to have you as a friend! Also, wine.

Spread The Love. Suck It. Wine Through A Straw.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015


When you first decided to try and learn to play an instrument, what drove that desire?
Are you still beholden to those original feelings, or has it all become a little jaded?
Do you remember the first time you heard something so overwhelming, so emotive, so engaging that it awakened in you an urgency to create a sound of your own...?
Did you for one second think to yourself that it would end up as a continuous stream of begging for clicks, begging for attention, begging just to be heard...?
Do you make music purely for the love of collaborating and creating that which is pleasing to your ear? And heart?
Does that mean you have given up?
Does the refusal to participate in "the game" indicate resolve or laziness?

Never has there been a more apt name for a game than "musical chairs", a game built on the premise that there is an ever diminishing platform for all the arsehole participants every time the music stops.
We live in that very real game of musical chairs, my friends.
More and more arseholes, less and less chairs.
The music has stopped.
But is it for the last time?

Sure, we now have an almost infinite market, but no one gives a fuck. And as for giving dollars, well we all know the answer to that! Music no longer holds any value because what is deemed to be music by the general public today has no value. At least not musically. I'm not saying the Sex Pistols were misunderstood geniuses - far from it - but at least they stirred the souls of a generation.

What brought on this early morning mood? Well, for one thing I have been rediscovering the joy of making music at its most basic level (I don't have much above the very basic to start with...) and last night was one of those "shit-eating grin" sessions. As for all the negativity, well, that's the kind of stuff permanently on my mind.

Come watch my shit-eating grin threaten the material integrity of the top of my head on Saturday.

Spread The Love. Putting The "EAR" Back Into "HEART"

Tuesday, August 25, 2015


Yesterday was murder. Except for the dinner-and-a-show part right at the end.
Yesterday was corporate hell. I stood naked before the world, no piercings with which myself to defend.

Contrived, I know, but I have been concentrating on things other than my prosaic droppings for some time now. As I'm sure you've noticed. Most people say the rather more uninspiring "work's been hectic hey!" but I feel I owe you a little more than that, my dear genteel reader.

Let's see, what happened to me over the last while... I maked a cake again. Part III! The Hot Girlfriend was over the moon! No dogs were allowed to lick anything in the commission of this master piece and the only dish / spoon shenanigans were restricted to the inside of the dishwasher. The rest of the birthday celebrations involved me slaving over a hot stove or a hot braai - a lot. There may or may not have been some wine involved...

Ooooh! Ja! SUBVERS also played their first house party! As reported in my last post, we decided to get back to basics and break out the party tunes. Having set up our PA system and after undergoing the time consuming face painting make up ritual (it was a horror themed party), we mightily bestrode the corner of the lounge and rocked out like so many garage bands before us. If you don't know what I'm talking about, see just about any American college movie ever made. And now imagine us doing that!
It was wonderful! We pumped that place so full of smoke, you'd have sworn blind you were at a Sisters gig in the mid 80s! And of course we topped this particular cake with the cherry that is "Scotty Doesn't Know!", the ultimate house party classic. We may even have duped a few individuals into enjoying themselves...

But wait. That's not all! If you go down to the woods today, that means you'll have Saturday free. What! Did I say "Saturday"? And "free"? In the same sentence?
Yes, my fellatio-owed followers! Saturday SUBVERS once more soil the stage at Mercury with their particularly lewd and lurid style! And with the return of THE DAMNED CROWS, who join us on the night to celebrate a milestone with our good friend Captain Awesome, shit is gonna get torn up good and proper. So put on your party hat, pop on a discreet adult diaper, smear on some lipschtick and drag your gloriously gaggin' arse down to the one and only Mercury for a night of heavy breathing, heaving bosoms, and heavenly noise terrorism!

It's FREE!

Read that again.


In keeping up with the Kardashians, and the rest of the world as it devalues music and everything else, including even the most modestly veiled morals, fuck it! Captain Awesome brings you this extravaganza of excess at no cost to your good self. And the bands are performing for him, for you, and for free!


And speaking of crazy, I have a damn panti-gram to complete... hullo! Make with the little black g-strings!

On decks all night is the one, the only, the inimitable DJ Reanimator, spinning your choons of choice and keeping your booty bopping until the wee hours. And by wee I don't mean "incontinently drunk". Although I'm sure that is most certainly not ruled out...

 Spread The Love. Buy The Birthday Boy A Drink.

Thursday, July 23, 2015


Pretend you're in your bedroom. Or Arties. And now pretend you're hearing James Hetfield bark out "I've got something to say!... " And now pretend that I indeed DO have something to say. And now imagine that the rest of this post isn't as awful as I anticipate it will be. Like St. Anger. Only without the insightful lyric.

It occurs to me that the older one gets, the more boring ones life. It's as if things finally come to a grinding semi-halt as we settle into a holding pattern of mind numbing boredom and merely trudge through the endless days until we are allowed to dull our affronted senses with the only socially sanctioned drug abuse on Earth. Booze it up while you clean the kitchen or do a load of laundry. Wake up feeling like you'd rather not, rinse, repeat. Adulthood. When did I become so wrung out?

At least, unlike so many of you, I have sufficient distractions in my life to convince myself that I still enjoy this dreadful existence. I get to use the horrible ennui as inspiration. And since I have no captive audience to satisfy, I can be as frustratingly obscure as I feel like. Which brings me to a lovely new ditty we're working on. You'll love it. It has it all! But you'll have to wait...

And speaking of things you missed out on, SUBVERS performed a secret surprise show on Saturday at a house party. Yes, thanks to the second half of the year's bookings disappearing in a puff of smoke, we decided to go completely old school! Oh what fun we had! Some of the guests even bobbed their heads and got into it. Whilst certainly not a stand out show in terms of grandeur or prestige, it was a highlight in terms of fun. And since it isn't likely to be repeated it was decided to include that ultimate of house party songs as the final number. Yup! You guessed it! SCOTTY DOESN'T KNOW! The goth metal version! One day we may be bribed with enough money/alcohol/projectile panties to release the video.

Anyway, I just thought I'd pop in and say hi. I'm sure you've missed me as I have missed dishing up the drivel. Problem is, I have no effing motivation and sweet fuck all on which to opine. It really is quite grown up of me.

Spread The Love. So What So What You Boring Little ****!

Wednesday, July 15, 2015


There's a remarkable difference between "getting ahead" in life and "being obsessed with getting blowjobs" throughout your existence...

Apologies for neglecting you, my avid, rabid readership. I have been partaking in the former, although remain steadfastly committed to the latter. You see, work has been hectic. One of these days I may even start wearing kerkskoene. No! What blasphemy is that...

Anyway, as befits my advanced years, the powers that be have finally seen fit to grant me some responsibility and such, which means I now have to work my poor little fingers to the bone (I don't know how you mortals have put up with this day-in-day-out for so long) in grand anticipation of my big bump up the corporate ladder. It would be soul destroying if it didn't come with the added benefit of a much larger booze budget. Still, no excuse for being so absent.
Truth be told, I haven't had anything exciting to talk about. And ranting about the sorry state of our world or the despicable behaviour of our leaders is becoming a well worn path towards a sore arm next to a rotting horse corpse in the sun.

I could tell you that I had a lot of fun band rehearsals, but then you already knew that.
I could tell you about all the wonderful culinary delights and alcohol fueled antic, but that, like my cowboy head wear that once served time in a stripper's on-stage performance, is becoming "old hat".
I'm pleased to announce that my focused attempt at fitness is going well, but I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I didn't admit to doing it for the sole purpose of allowing myself leeway to drink as much as I want to.

So I have been gone with the wind and no one seems to give a... oh no! I'm not falling for that one again! It's just such a pity I can't tell you about the incredibly awesome thing that's coming up. Not unlike The Kraken, only with less suckers attached. Although...

What am I on about, you ask. Oh nothing. Like tonight I think I'll rush home through the mire of unending traffic so I can spend all my time throwing money into the bottomless pit of my self indulgent "creative outlet". One day I may even find some appreciation. Who am I kidding. My arse looks nothing like the SS Kardashian so I don't stand a chance. Perhaps one day, with art being as fleetingly cyclic as it is, someone somewhere will click on the "pay $1" button and my life's ambition and selfless sacrifice will have meant something. Were my parents right after all? Nope. Fuck all o' ye's! My assault on your conscience and eardrums will continue unabated. Well, now that I have to return to the drawing board after Mercury's closure you may have to wait a while, but interesting plans are afoot, fear not. I mean, it's not as if I started a life of musical crime just to get the odd blowjob...

And on that rather offensively obscure note, just like that, he disappeared...

NDGD: (And boy, how I have missed his insightful wisdom) Get rich or die trying. Or run up massive debts and declare bankruptcy. More proof that rap is the Greece of music.

I missed you!

Spread The Love. Bring Me Wine.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015


This is not an indication that I am currently in any sort of turbulently troubled situation without the necessary means of propulsion with which to extricate myself. It simply refers to the fact that the office cat is away for a few weeks. For the first time in a long time I don't have to deal with shit first thing in the morning every morning.
And it's glorious.

I also had this wonderful tie-in that dealt with varying levels of something very important, but like so many inspiring ideas, stories, lyrics and passages of music, all is lost the minute one wakes up completely. The best invention ever would be a fully recoverable dream recorder. Imagine the porn!

This may have happened some time during last night's load-shedding nap. There you go with the inappropriate analogies again. Oh no! I said analogies! That's like Koos du Plessis's deluxe triple cd box set which he decided to call 'Trilogie'. My friends and I at the CD store found that hysterical. Which is misogynistic in itself.

I had this whole schtick planned, I promise. But now I'm sitting here with my thumb lodged in my arse, the metaphorical equivalent of an unhappy guest of Kathy Bates. I suppose it could be worse. Luckily I work inside in a nice warm comfortable office. Spare a thought for the poor bastards having to deal with the brunt of this weather.

Also, I've been listening to Anathema and Ministry all afternoon. How kak is that?
So after my nice post-work nap yesterday courtesy of Eskom, I set about rewiring my studio. I probably shouldn't have. Now I have the DoomTroops coming in and half the gear is festooned over half the house...

Wow. For the first time in my life I really have nothing to say. Don't you feel a little uncomfortable? Aren't you overcome with an ominous feeling of foreboding and dread? This is like the penultimate scene in a particularly gruesome horror film. Uneasy before the final killfest. Squirm, squirm...

Don't look behind you...

Spread The Love. Stalkers Need It Too...