Thursday, October 25, 2012


It is here! I know I said it yesterday, but I'm going to keep repeating it until someone gets it.

I am, of course, referring to a blog. Posted by Tarty Farty Tequila Party. In which she explores the paranormal and doesn't make a single reference to Supernatural, and for that we are all infinitely grateful. Her coverage of a weekend away deep in the heart of the Karoo and a bunch of ghosts is riveting. I had been invited, but I'd have been useless. Firstly, it's very difficult to out run beings that can drift through walls, especially with trousers filled to the brim with pooh, and secondly, ectoplasm wreaks havoc with my hair.

So I chose the relative comfort of civilisation, where at least you know what's doing you violent harm, and she tottered off to experience a series of "pinch it off mid stream" moments...

We're glad to have her back, unscathed.

I have often made assertions about being Martha Stewart incarnate, but I have never told you how kleinserig I am. Last night, whilst making a uniquely healthy and unhealthy in equal parts meal, I went one culinary step beyond and sliced a piece of thumb carpaccio into the green salad. Obviously. I have a show coming up and will probably need to be able to hold a plectrum during rehearsals and the actual show.

This, unlike all the spooky nonsense happening in Matjiesfontein, is historically accurate. The day before Grämlich's very first proper recording date, myself, TDB and JDP found ourselves at a faculty braai for the jewellery designers at our institute of higher learning. It was at the beach. I was of course Mister Popular, having been overheard remarking that all the girls definitely looked like porn stars, but went nonetheless. It was all fun and games until someone lost an eye - proverbially. As I recall we were larking about flinging seaweed at each other (as you do) when out of the periphery of my vision a large slab of damp ocean flora came hurtling towards my temple. Involuntarily I ducked, fell over and grabbed TDB in one graceful movement, propelling him downwards onto the barnacled rocks with a thud. He tried to break our fall with his outstretched hands, leaving him with deeply lacerated palms and me deeply apologising to little avail. The next day he bled for our art. My mother doesn't call it art.

A few months later and the band was gathering momentum, and lo and behold, we get another opportunity to record. We're out celebrating. Celebrating at that stage of our lives constituted solely of drinking enough cheap shit to get as drunk and possible, permanently opining over our lack of sexual activity, and dancing like a pissed off Schalk Burger one flying tackle away from the sin bin. I was happily minding my own business, standing there throwing the hair around, no doubt attempting to impress whichever vision had made an impression on me, when I was suddenly the one making an impression. With my thumb "knuckle". On the stone wall in front of me. After having been flung with some force towards said wall. After TDB decided to leave his own shoulder shaped impression on me. Out of the blue. Hand in traction for 6 weeks. Never mind being able to play guitar successfully. Masturbation was a serious challenge! Forget what people say about "it feels like someone else"...

Don't get me started on the time I lacerated my finger almost clean off hours before sound check and had to play a show doped up and taped up, thankfully spraying plectrums and not blood, but having lost enough to be woozy for days. The tequila storm after the show had nothing, I repeat NOTHING, to do with nose diving down 2 flights of stairs or peeing in a chest of drawers...

But as musicians who take what they do seriously - even if no one else does - we soldier on and fight through the pain. Let's hope I can manage the next rehearsal or 2 without crying in front of my friends.

Which brings us conveniently to tonight. I will be revisiting the award winning potjie I made last year for Tarty Farty Tequila Party's birthday. Only this time it will be for Dinner Club. Hallah-lube-jizz!

NGDG: "Bring champagne on Monday. We'll need to celebrate if this gets signed off!" Lady, this shit is the reason I drink NOW!

Spread The Love. Hold The Ectoplasm.

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