Wednesday, November 14, 2012


Sycophant? Just another failed musician? Or a self important prick trying to effect positive change from inside the machine? Take your pick. I probably wouldn't care which you prefer. But know this. Every so often you are going to hear me singing (pray not in real life) the praises of another local musician or group. As you are by now probably all too acutely aware, Shannon Hope and Lucy Kruger are among my all time personal favourites, as are Fetish and a host of others. New on the radar are very much the muscle-car engine-revving energy of Th'DamnedCrows and the sinister, prison-style hard-time rock of Dead Lucky. I tend to wax lyrical about acts that I find worthwhile, intriguing or extraordinary, even if they do not fall into the category of my own personal influences. I lie like a fly. Pretty much everything can be cited as an influence - it's just that I happen to have more My Dying Bride cds in my collection than Mazzy Star.

Today's victim, or as it were, next lady for a shave, is the blues/country/folk singer/song writer, Mr Gerald Clark. Imagine my surprise when I had the Twisted Sister and the Brother-In-Awe around the other night and excitedly presented this great artist I'd discovered for myself, only to be told that he was already a firm favourite of theirs. Perhaps removing my thumb from my arse and placing it more accurately on the pulse of the music industry is called for.

Anyway, Gerald Clark. A bluesy, gritty, demon on a guitar and a deep-down, smokey, Southern crooner behind a mic, he delivers songs of dirty integrity and harrowing honesty - enough to draw any amount of comparisons to the roots of the blues themselves. I can easily see him waiting patiently at a sweltering, windswept crossroads...
That was the album I got my hands on. Now it seems he has changed approach slightly and gone for a more bittersweet polish. Check out a new title called "It's not that easy" from the rooftop at the Deck. There is no substitute for astute song writing and undeniable ability. Fuck the nay sayers, South Africa is ripe with talent. Now if only the rest of the industry would climb aboard the "MTV culture is stupid" train...

Oh well, that's it I suppose. I know I'm preaching to the choir, but can someone please tell the unwashed masses that perpetuating the crimes against humanity that are constantly play listed on national and regional radio is their own stupid fault. Supply and demand. The radio stations need to keep the numbers up and keep the revenue from advertisers coming. Too often they are thought of as vehicles through which music lovers can get their jollies. This is not the case. Broadcasters are not run by music lovers for music lovers. They are large corporate entities that exploit a product. Change the demand and they will follow suit.

In other news: I have a new dining room cabinet - after much arthritic huffing and puffing! I'm getting too old for this shit.
Also, if you want to experience some steaming sonic fare of the far more aggressive variety, why don't you pop on down to Zula Sound Bar on Friday night for FRONTLINE? You know you're going to be in the area. And you know you want to have your regular dose of adrenalin administered at ear-splitting, bone-crushing volumes. Not to mention being able to see me trying valiantly to hide my ineptitude with the smoke and mirrors of long hair and flashy guitars. Come one, you know you want it... The battle for Long Street is apparently on. Catering to all extreme tastes, from the twisted thrash of Wargrave and the guttural groove of Suiderbees, to the tumultuous torment of Wildernessking and the mechanized madness of Axxon, there will be something for everyone. Be there, if only to satisfy your curiosity. And see how the other half do it. Don't be scared. The internet says we have cookies...

NGDG: Draw a pretty rainbow. There's a dead leprechaun and a big pot of "Sorry - not a winner" at the end.

Spread The Love. Even If It Isn't That Easy.

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