Monday, March 31, 2014


You'll never GUESS what the subject of today's post is going to be! Come on! Guess!

Give in yet? Ok, I'll give you a clue...

It's about how fucking awesome and incredible and amazing The Awakening is. Without even gushing, I can honestly say that I was humbled this weekend. Not only by Ashton Nyte's extraordinary talent, but by the man's humility, grace and generosity. His buddies in the band aren't too kak either! On Friday night's performance alone, tomes could be written - each more complimentary than the next - but it was best summed up by one of local music's fiercest critics, when he simply commented "Flawless" and went on to claim it the single best live performance he had ever witnessed. Strong words, Bryn Diesel...

Allow me to back them up. The Awakening is quite simply the most experienced and exceptional of any local underground act still active. I still think of them as local in the same way that I consider Fetish to be local. Whatever, bands shouldn't be judged on their geographical origin. Ashton Nyte is the brains behind the band and the songwriter and singer. Therein lies the success and longevity of this act. He is not only a supremely gifted song writer, but as enigmatic and engaging a front man as you are ever likely to encounter. Friday night's entrancing performance was due to many, many years of diligent work, a wealth of hard earned experience and much blood, sweat and tears. And no small helping of natural ability.

I feel honoured to have been included in the proceedings - obviously. SUBVERS started things off in a pretty packed Mercury and I hope we made some new friends and fans. I can tell you I played my little heart out and was absolutely knackered afterwards. It was good seeing all the faces in front of me enjoying themselves so much!
Next up were our great mates Terminatryx, who were also launching their new album "Shadow". It was a triumph of a show, the crowd went nuts - the band were on fire! The new single is that good it was stuck in my head the next day!
And then of course, the main course. Striding onto the stage alongside guitarist Jeremy, bassist Damian and drummer Sevven, Ashton proceeded to woo the crowd into near cardiac-arrested rapture. He crooned - they swooned! He swayed - they bayed! And when they unleashed their more upbeat stompers, EVERYONE went fucking berserk! It was a delight to behold such unadulterated enjoyment - a sight rarely seen in Cape Town's dour underground.

Saturday morning provided its own challenges...

But by Saturday evening it was show time again, albeit a little less intense. SUBVERS joined The Awakening for an evening of acoustic enchantment at Aandklas in picturesque Stellenbosch. Grandpa's guitars were dusted off and bar stools found their way onto the stage as we took a seat and launched into "SUBVERS SUBDUED" before The Awakening once again delivered a perfect set to the delirious appreciation of another enthralled capacity crowd. What an evening!

From me, I'd like to thank Gert and Sabbath Events, Ashton and the lads of The Awakening, our good friends Terminatryx, all the kind people at Mercury, the crew who did an outstanding job as usual, everyone at Aandklas, Bryn Diesel and Infinite Focus Photography, Herr Grun for the continued support and videography, Laura McCullagh for photographs, TDB for his help with the gear, everyone who came out to support the bands and get blown away. And - most importantly - to my band mates; Likkle Spoon Daemon, LordDoom and Double Deebs - fuck, that was epic!

Spread The Love. With Conviction.

Thursday, March 27, 2014


Step 1. Make sure you're wearing these.
Step 2. Remove them.
Step 3. Take careful aim and launch them at the stage.

It seems everywhere you look, people are in the market for a new arse. Never happy with what the Good Lord saw fit to provide them, the world is clamouring for improved derrieres. Crossfit, diets and mindless, self-inflicted torture be damned! Allow the proto-proctologists of SUBVERS to rip you a new one! All you need is a beer in your hand and a favourable spot on the dancefloor tomorrow night at Mercury! But wait! That's not all! If you order now, we'll throw in "An Incredible Performance For Your Pleasure" and "The Best, Most Awesome Goth Rock Ever Made"! Call 1-800-782-8377 right now! Or maybe webticket. Ja, try webticket...

Yes folks, yet another reminder of The Show Of The Year! Tomorrow night SUBVERS has, along with good friends Terminatryx, the honour of opening for legendary South African goth band The Awakening, as they finish up the Anthology XV Tour in the Motherless City. And since we're the first act on, and can therefore enjoy both the following acts and a nice refreshing beverage, you had better be there on time.

Doors open 9pm.
SUBVERS starts off the evening's proceedings at 9:30!

Don't be that guy who walks in as the final strains of our brilliant set die away and then harasses everyone, trying to find out what sonic majesty you just missed, as everyone returns - drooling and in post coital bliss - to the bar.

Anybody up for a tantalizing little taster?
SUBVERS - Flatline
Terminatryx - Shadow
The Awakening - Carnival Of Souls

Clicky, clicky, eargasms!

NGDG: If the drunk douche from Unit 19 knocks at my door again I will stab him in the face with that really sharp but cheap Chinese knife held together with electrical tape. And I'm putting this here so I don't actually go through with it. And as a reminder that I really should get some new kitchen knives.

Spread The Love. Chuck Them Knickers!

Tuesday, March 25, 2014


Congratulations to those brave souls who exposed themselves on social media sans war paint. It probably took a lot of guts. (I'm guessing, since for most of you it's too early to be drunk.) It's commendable and for a good cause. Raising awareness is important no matter how many people cry "Slacktivist!" I'm sure that people all over TheRealFaceBook, as it's known today, have (quite literally) been shocked from their reverie. And to those who felt a little too naked without their inch thick armour, thanks to you too. There's probably a reason. Actually, I am being a total bastard, there are some truly beautiful people out there, despite Mar1lyn Man5on's interpretation. Now there's someone you wouldn't want to see in the plain light of day...

It's funny how the lyrical thrust of the latest song I'm working on is all about the exact opposite. Pretty painted vacuous vessels. Bless their black little hearts.

Well, as you can probably guess, I'm irritable and tired. I have no life and I'm focused solely on the weekend's upcoming gigs. I could tell you about my weekend... It involved football with a bunch of sweaty old geezers and resulted in near fatal paralysis. And that was just me. I could tell you about the hours spent cleaning in my home in anticipation of the post-football braai, but then I'd have to tell you about how even those best laid plans got ditched in favour of the Mitchells taps at Villa Tavern. At least I no longer live in squalor. I could regale you with tales of being forced to choose between a long, long list of "ground up meat in a wrap" (yes, I went to a Mexican restaurant), but then I'd have to tell you about the Tequila hangover and Tarty would get upset because she wasn't there.

Oh yes! The other thing on TheRealFaceBook today! People were sharing their "most important albums in my life" lists with each other. Other than it being a bit of a dick swinging contest, it serves only to frustrate. I tried. I failed miserably. I can't even identify a Top 50, never mind a Top 12. It's an exercise in futility. And as someone who spent the majority of his life judging people purely on their music tastes, it does nothing to enhance anyone's reputation. Also, I very much doubt everyone was entirely honest, instead posting the 12 coolest albums they could think of. Mandy Smith was HUGELY influential in the formation of my tastes. My sister bought me the album. Samantha Fox as well. And Madonna. And everything from Pet Shop Boys to Public Enemy. Beatles to Bolt Thrower. Lisa Gerrard to London After Midnight. Dead Kennedys to Disincarnate. INXS to Immolation. I could go on... My list of 12 was just a hollow Musica version of the real thing. So I politely decline on the grounds of sheer scale of impossibility.

I can tell you what I would have on my Most Hated List...

  1. All "Hail! Hail! Chainmail! Fail!" metal, except Manowar's 'Triumph Of Steel'.
  2. All hip-hop after the mid nineties.
  3. Boo!
  4. The entire Iron Maiden discography.
  5. Die Antwoord.
  6. Jack Parow.
  7. Every single chord, note and miserable fucking syllable for which Dave Mustaine has EVER been responsible, except his noteworthy contribution to 'Kill 'Em All'.
  8. Anything formed on the basis of a reality TV talent search.
  9. Tom Fucking Jones.
  10. Very surprisingly, Nick Cave.
  11. Anything that falls under the heading "massive nostalgic hit that turns otherwise intelligent people into drunken Kevin Bacons at weddings and other such celebratory gatherings".
  12. Post 'Joshua Tree' U2.

Now that I think of it, there's a lot more to this list as well. Rage Against The Machine, post 'Black' album Metallica, all of Eddie Vedder's whining... but that's all too predictable and easy.

NGDG: Our waitress is called Lovelace. After enthusiastically singing her namesake's praises I discover it's after an African handcream, not a teenage pornstar. My food is totally getting spat on.

Spread The Love. Linda Showed You The Way.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014


Children of the night!
And everyone else too!

You are hereby cordially (you have to imagine all of this delivered in a manner somewhere between Gary Oldman's Dracula and classic Rocky Horror) invited to join us for a night of dark desire and shadowy shenanigans.
Or if forbidden fun is more your taste in nocturnal mischief, then we have just the thing for everyone!

Ladies and gentlemen! The Awakening make their long overdue return to the shores of their birth so that they might entertain and entrance you one last time. Their whirlwind countrywide tour culminates in a weekend of wicked delight right here in the Mother City. A show the likes of which has not been seen in many moons is being hosted by Mercury on Friday 28th of March. Featuring the awesome Awakening ably supported by the industrial intensity of Terminatryx and the gritty goth-rock of SUBVERS, this is a night you will not want to miss.

The Awakening, for those of you who remain blissfully unaware, are legends of the local Goth/Underground scene, having released 8 full length studio albums, 2 "Best Of"s, 3 EPs, not to mention many, many inclusions on compilations. They have played to more people than just about any other alternative outfit, relentlessly touring their releases up and down the country and abroad, before Ashton Nyte (the singer/song writer behind the band) relocated to the USA 7 years ago. Regarded by many as one of our greatest exports, you are in for a treat with their triumphant return to the stage.

The Awakening - live and loud!

I've heard the new Terminatryx album. I got a sneak preview. I know people. It's being released on the night and it is a knock out! Having tirelessly performed and recorded for the last 13 years, they have many, many accolades under their generously buckled belts. They will stomp you a new one with their industrial boots! You'll be blown away! If there is anything left of you to blow away after we're done with you...

Terminatryx - album artwork 'Shadow'.

Which brings me to SUBVERS. Relatively new to the public, SUBVERS has been quietly bubbling away for a long time, brewing up a crafty concoction of gripping, sinister grooves that will leave you breathless and begging for more. But don't take my word for it. If you haven't already, please go and check out 'Flatline', the first demo - available for free download - to get a glimpse of what you're in for.

SUBVERS - handsome devils or ...?

And that's just the Friday night!

On Saturday the 29th, SUBVERS will join The Awakening for their final show of the tour at Aandklas in Stellenbosch for a very unique acoustic show. This promises to be a very special performance, so don't miss out. Even if only to see me perched there with my grandpa's guitars and my tongue lolling out in abject concentration. We're changing our name for the occasion to 'The Koeksisters Of Mercy'...

So come out, come out, wherever you are!

NGDG: The opposite of melon is whatever is elvish for enemy. I've made a few but at least the gate to Moria is closed. The foulness unearthed by men cannot enter by moonlight. (For those who don't care for LOTR, suffice it to say that security is restored and long may the quibbling fall silent. (For the rest of you, thanks for reading this far.))

Spread The Love. Even "In The Temple Of..."

Tuesday, March 18, 2014


So yesterday it was the turn of the leprechaun. A day celebrated for Saint Patrick getting rid of snakes or something. I bet Samuel L Jackson could have done with some of that on that plane. And the rest of the world takes it upon themselves to vajazzle themselves in green and pretend they looooove Guinness. In throngs. In hordes! Luckily, in Cape Town there are a grand total of 4 watering holes that have the black stuff on tap and they are FULL on St Paddy's Day.

Enter Tardy Fardy Tequila Pardy. A few swift keyboard strokes and a click later the event "Make mine a Guinness" became a reality on Faeceboobs, and therefore real life. After waiting patiently for the only parking bay in creation to become available as a family of revellers left the establishment, I was greeted by the one thing I had been dreading. I can queue at a bar. I can wait for my drink. I don't mind being jostled in bustling establishments. But walking towards the doors of O'Driscoll's and being exposed to the plaintive wailing of a 'Wedding Singer' style cover duo belting out U2 was almost too much to bear. I might add that I was certainly the only grumpy git in the place as everyone else seems still enthralled with the poor man's Bob Geldoff. The term "sham rock" was born. Damn cheesy wedding classics cover artists.
Anyway, my mood was instantly uplifted as soon as I had my grubby paws wrapped around the delicious dark beverage. The band continued their best to try my patience, but I was in that all too familiar (and comfortable) place where I secretly just stand and judge everyone around me and dismiss their horrifyingly unsophisticated music taste with a cheery grin. What is it about The Proclaimers that make evidently educated people lose their shit? There were a number of contenders for "I'm getting fired tomorrow"...

Nevertheless, it was a fantastically fun night out. Tina Sex, Slappy, The Succubus, Tardy Fardy, The Hot Girlfriend and I had a great time. I drew the line at singing along to the equivalent of "Who the fuck is Alice?!?!" as it paints one in a particularly uncomplimentary hue. The bloke with the tie around his head certainly didn't care. Guinness, truly an elixir of every sort. And FOR every sort.

Which reminds me, TDB and I invented a shooter which we dubbed a 'Leprechaun' back in our misspent youth. Equal measures creme de menthe (cause we're men's men), Jameson Irish Whisky and Sambuca Gold, drizzled in layers of descending viscosity and voila! It never really took off, but we liked the fact that our drink was actually served (or at least on the shooter menu) at Comic Strip. It was the only other reason we kept going back there...

Ah, memories...

NGDG: Jimmy Buffett, you owe us a fortnight's worth of Pina Coladas, bitch.

Spread The Love. Help Put An End To The Bono.

Monday, March 17, 2014


She's not local. Maar fokkit, sy's lekker.

What a wonderful weekend of local lekkerness. Lekkerness is a word. I can vouch for its authenticity. Or as any local newscaster in South Africa would say, its "authenticness". Among myriad other such atrocities I was unfortunate enough to witness this weekend. Delights of such jaw-dropping proportions that my brain was forced to file them under "permanent amnesia".

But back to how incredible my weekend was. In all its local brilliantness. Because "brilliance" is so pre-textual. Friday night was the usual. Play footie at African Brothers. Have Tarty Farty Tequila Party pop over for a glass or two of wine and watch the Proteas wilt in the face of another Australian summer bush fire.
Saturday it was time to rehearse for our Big Gig Weekend in 2 weeks. Don't miss the return of South Africa's prodigious and prodigal son, Ashton Nyte, as he brings the night critters out for a last dance. Followed by that most South African tradition, the humble braai. Hooking up with old friends for a night of kakpraat en suip around a fire is a birth right. It's patriotic! Nice to see some of the old faces and had an epic kuier.

But here's where it gets gets super Proudly South African. Sunday was lazy-in-bed day with The Hot Girlfriend. Later on we watched Trevor Noah and the tears rolled down our cheeks as we laughed and laughed. But it's the first thing we watched I'd like to take a moment to reflect upon.
'Punk In Africa' is one of the most touching, moving and incredible documentaries ever made. I hadn't seen it before and always kind of assumed it wasn't really my cup of tea, but WOW! What a movie! I even got to see my good mate, ol' Az 33 minutes and 40 seconds in. It tells the riveting tale of how punk - in all its splendorous incarnations - actually had a social impact on South Africa during the apartheid era and also how it was the voice and conscience that, to a degree, assisted in shaping the vibrant new nation - a beacon of hope and democracy. It starts with the seminal Suck destroying shit in Johannesburg's Town Hall with an axe, moves through the various Clash and Kennedys influenced bands who pushed the boundaries and actively pushed for real change in a draconian state. It tells the story of young people seriously disillusioned with an unfair, oppressive system rebelling against the archaic rules imposed on them, expressing themselves through anarchic music and actions of acceptance. Later on, after the regime capitulates, it shows how the youth is still pissed off and has something to say, once again music being used as the vehicle to vocalise the feelings of a generation. Like one commentator so beautifully put it: "What comes after irony? Fuck you!"

I have to admit something ugly right now. I have an illegal digital copy. This is being remedied as we speak and I will soon have in my grateful little mits a hard copy to treasure and call my own. If you'd like to download yours, I believe you can do so on iTunes, Netflix and Amazon. And while you're at it and you have your credit card out, go and order 'Vick-Tory For The Underdog' as well. You'll thank me, this I promise.

See? Local, as the saying goes, is LEKKER!

Enjoy celebrating an Irish holiday today. Guinness is, after all, still a fuck sight better than Castle Milk Stout. Also, happy 2 and a half year anniversary to the gorgeous love of my life!

NGDG: I guess I must be a racist. All the people on my blocked list are white.

Spread The Love. Locally.

Friday, March 14, 2014


In order to appreciate the humour in the title of this post you have to pronounce "fillet" the way French people do and try your best not to remember that someone somewhere has already made this joke. Or many someones.

Anyway, like the 2010 World Cup Football, IT IS HERE!!!

Steak And Blowjob Day!

Should be every day if you ask me. And while I am writing this, one of the more erudite of my acolytes has just pointed out the dearth of what she quaintly called "Pasta and Muff Day". Kinda rude. You could have gone with 'Tagliatelle n Tongue' or something of that nature, but I do get the picture. Well, let's start at the beginning...

SnBJ Day came (hahahaha) about as a tit for tat over Valentine's Day when it was perceived that the romantic responsibility was all on the man. You know, bringing flowers and chocolate and that sort of shit. And candlelit dinners and whatnot. The more brazenly barbarian revolted and insisted on a day one month later which celebrated the opposite of all that schmaltzy nonsense. Hence SnBJ Day.

So insisting that there be a Cake and Cunnilingus Day is just superfluous. I put it to you that if you have to set aside one day in which to experience your partner lavishing this sort of attention on you, be you man or woman, you are doing the relationship thing all wrong! Every day should be BOTH Day! Like Spaghetti and SixtyNine Day or something... Can you imagine the 'Lady And The Tramp' permutations...

Anyway, dear, dear reader, let me not keep you from your destiny. Go home. Don't forget to stop at the store on the way home and buy some decent rump. If you're a guy and you're single, fear not, your time will come. *Cough* And if you're a lady and not exactly thrilled at the prospect, please bear this in mind. He will eventually go and find someone who is.

Whichever end of the activity you find yourself on later, enjoy it to the best of your ability. Wholeheartedly!

And always remember, when it comes (fuck, I did it again) to Steak And Blowjob Day, one should always be rare and one should always be well done. Confusing the 2 should be punishable by death.

NGDG: People say to me sometimes, when they're not being bastards, "you're so funny." Really life does all the work, you just need to piece it together. Today I had a haircut. That would be a dull status. I try avoid that sort of thing. It's true and yes, mum will like it, and it's still a better love story than Twilight, but you want to sparkle for realsies. You probably told the barber what you wanted. "Short here, longer there." Also boring; and if you're going to be boring at least be brief. You need more information. This is where observation comes in: the Pistorius trial is on TV in the salon. More boredom - it ain't LA Law. But suddenly your barber puts down the scissors to show you a picture on his phone of him with Oscar, who is one of his clients. Retroactively, a joke occurs: "I asked him for a lady-killer haircut. I went to the right guy."

Spread The Love. Don't Neglect The Balls.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014


I'm sitting here in post Ramfest afterglow. And not just from the thorough scrubbing I had to administer after 3 days of dust, heat, wind and hippies. And dicks. Jeeeesh, there were a lot of dicks. Some were even etched into car window dust. Let's not even go into how peoples' basic bathroom etiquette seems to abandon them as soon as they enter a plastic portaloo.

What a spectacularly successful event - again!

The Hot Girlfriend and I arrived, fresh-faced and ready for a long weekend of music and mayhem. Having one's camping area kept open in anticipation of your arrival is a thing of rare luxury indeed. We set up our tent and set about exploring the extensive campsite. Extensive... I mean EXTENSIVE! As one pithy punter put it afterwards "Screw your Argus updates. I covered way more than 100kms at Ramfest, on foot, in much more taxing circumstances".
Yes, the price we paid for our luxurious camping surroundings, under virtually permanent leafy shade and right by our cars, came with a price. The walk to and fro between tent and stage area was so long it required a good deal of preparation every time and almost ended in a divorce or four. It also coated all the weary travelers in enough dust to make even the most fastidious hygiene aficionado quickly let go of any pipe dream of staying relatively clean. But the great trek was worth it every single time...

Clearly Ramfest is designed to cater to as many tastes as possible. This is my way of saying that not all the acts on offer were my cup of tea. But the organisers are definitely doing something right. Every year attendance grows. Every year the acts brought in for our entertainment are more varied and more amazing. So I'm not going to dwell on those acts which I didn't enjoy. Fuck's sake, even walking past the electro tent left me a teeth grinding, bug eyed, homicidal maniac. Here, then, is a short list of my favourite highlights of the festival:

  1. Dead Lucky reclaimed their title as my absolute favourite local band of brigands with a surly, suitably brash performance that had the barricades rattling and the bodies bouncing in rambunctious reverie. The very definition of raucous rock was captured and I for one am hoping that their performance leads to bigger and better things.
  2. I caught the end of The Very Wicked and was very impressed. Very!
  3. We Are A Conduit fucking WAILED! They have a haunting intensity to their rampant, roguish rock that immediately endears them, and as entrancing a front person in the form of Natalie as you're ever likely to see. She writhes and howls and feels and lives every emotion in every tortured lyric she delivers.
  4. Despite being bumped from Main Stage to the Stellenbrau Stage due to international acts and their shitty scheduling, The Rayban sporting Flaming DeVilles delivered a consummately professional set and I can tell you with my hand on my heart that I have rarely seen a band enjoy themselves as much on a stage. They are clearly on top of their game and loving what they do - it's fucking infectious, as was evident in the crowd behind me.
  5. Gerald Clark is on another level. Seriously. I am blown away every time I have the profound privilege of seeing him deliver a set of devilishly dirty blues. You really are overwhelmed by the overpowering feeling that this genuine guitar genius with the golden voice made a deal with a very shady character in the deep, deep South...
  6. And then the boys from Infanteria went and showed everyone why they are the current darlings of the local metal scene. Before I start gushing, let me make one thing clear. I am not a huge fan of the current thrash metal revival, bullet belts, or the fact that Dave Mustaine is still allowed to draw breath. I am however, just as willing to lavish praise on that which deserves it as I am prone to dismiss that which doesn't. Their trip to Germany has obviously made a massive difference to their stagecraft. Their show was an incredible display of shredding metal and shaking earth, delivered with genuine authority. By the end of their set Ramfest in its entirety was involved, horns held proudly aloft in unison. Even their technical difficulties went unnoticed, due - I believe - to the great support of their stage hands (including Large Ulrich). Congratulations on an unbelievable show, gentlemen! The world is yours to conquer.

I have saved two particular performances for the end. Mainly because I am unsure how to dissect the latter without getting my hands dirty. My dear ol' Mum has always said "Honesty is the best policy" and despite not wanting to comment on the horrifying tragedy of some of the acts, I am going to single out 3 alleged comedians. I have no doubt that, like the necessary diversity described above, there is a niche for everyone, but my aching fuck! Rob van Vuuren! Really?!?! And Paul Snodgrass! Words fail me... The only thing more dire than these guys was another comedian whose name I was fortunate enough to miss.

So I'll end with my conundrum. The ever evolving Junkyard Lipstick. Gone are the days of screeching, plodding punk. They have embraced a rather more aggressive brand of speed thrash metal, and the people have spoken! They rocked the crap out of the Monster Stage, snarling, sneering and sending the crowd into headbanging hysteria. Honestly? I don't think their musical transformation, or even their journey to their best, is quite finished, but I can tell you one thing. With the support so clearly enjoyed by these femmes fatales, you will be hearing a lot more from this band. A lot!

And that brings me to the end of another wonderful Ramfest. Soaked on Sunday morning, but not dampened of spirit, the journey home was luckily not too bad, although the aftermath cleaning is ongoing. See you all next year!

NGDG: I think we've all now been disabused of our adolescent notion that rainy Seattle would be a cool place to live.

Spread The Love. No Shitting In The Shower, Please.

Monday, March 3, 2014


So, Russia invades the Ukraine. We're so far removed, it's relatively easy to understand the utter lack of giving a shit. It's like the news has somehow managed to desensitize us over the last few decades. As long as we know about the Illuminati, eh... Information is power! Power to show all your friends and not-friends on Faeceboobs just how "in the know" you are, you clever clogs! Your dinner partners will be so impressed.
Then there's the drama of the day, in which a few bicyclist thugs are busted on video abusing and assaulting a van driver who hadn't received the memo that all bicyclists are descendant directly from the great God Zeus himself and despite what the rest of humanity knows to be true, actually look good in their Lycra long-Speedos. Don't get me wrong, what these tits did is disgraceful, but wouldn't it be nice to have a similar - or dare I hope, a more vociferous - outcry against the daily abuse and assault perpetrated against our young, our weak and our defenceless?
But the news at the Top Of The Page, the most important information our nation can not survive without, is that the first witness in the Oscar Fucking Pistorious Feeding Frenzy has testified. So . Fucking . What ?
What happened to that poor girl and her family is tragic. They will never fully overcome the untimely loss of their daughter/sister. But why is the public so invested in this horrifying soap opera? I know the answer.
Humanity has lost its humanity. And its been replaced with a cheap, made-in-China need to constantly be entertained by the lowest common denominator. How else do you explain Cheaters or Jerry Springer? Or Jersey Shore? Or the entire Billboard Top 100? Or even the fact that my blog is still going? Integrity is dead. And so is what passes for entertainment...

...or is it?

On Friday night I had the rare privilege to discover something new for myself. Something truly wonderful. Something so surprisingly incredible, it's like the first time you heard 'Master Of Puppets' or when you stumble upon masturbation.

I've heard a lot about Cortina Whiplash. Particularly from my little sister, who has always had an uncanny knack for sniffing out prodigious talent, even if she has allowed this to be diluted by anything with a flat-4 beat in more recent times. Cortina Whiplash is something way above and beyond what I was expecting, let me tell you! I thought I was in for a trio of angry young ladies screeching about failed relationships and trading on their feminist angst. What I saw, experienced and drank in deeply, was one of the most accomplished live performances I have had the pleasure of witnessing. No, scratch that, I was IMMERSED in their performance. The songs were intelligently put together with lashings of sophisticated sass. The hooks were enormous. The musicianship was stellar. I was thrilled! I was transported! They thundered through song after song of exquisite eloquence mixed with just the right amount of sleazy swagger. I was enraptured! I haven't seen a band so effortlessly impress in a long, long time. Their stage craft is sensational. They strut and stomp with consummate confidence, mesmerizing the audience at every elegantly tawdry turn.
I look forward to seeing them again as soon as possible.

The other acts on the night were the ever reliable The Tornadoes and the malevolent maniacs of Dead Lucky. The Tornadoes put on an enjoyable and engaging show, despite the early start and consequent poor attendance. By the end of their set, though, there were more than enough people having a great time in Mercury. I have to admit to being left decidedly cold by Dead Lucky's performance though. They are without doubt (still) my favourite band in South Africa right now. Their album is a knock-out rollercoaster of bruising, boozing, filthy, furious rock'n'roll that is beyond brilliant. But they were a little lacklustre. After belting out opener, 'Sons Of Lazarus', they seemed to go a little off the boil. Except Jean, the drummer. He's a fucking maniac no matter what. But I was left with the distinct impression that some of them would rather not have been there. I sincerely hope they recapture their "gees" before taking the stage at Ramfest and giving us the equivalent of a musical blood nose.

And then I spent the rest of the weekend watching Michael Clark bat. And last night we drank wine with the little sister brigade in honour of our dearly loved and departed friend. And this morning the hangover almost forced me to take a sick day. Could today drag any slower?

I will leave you to return to your slack-jawed viewing of the Oscar circus trial.

NGDG: I narrowly avoided hitting a vagrant with my car this morning. I'll get him after work.

Spread The Love. Not The Cheeks.