Thursday, April 24, 2014


Gerald Clark (Kent) should be knighted. He should be revered and heavenly choirs should accompany his journey through life. You've all read right here how wonderful a musician he is. And he IS! His exploits on a guitar and behind a mic have elevated him into the very, very rarefied stratosphere of artists I consider worthy of my unadulterated adulation. The man is a modern day blues legend and a gift to humanity.

But wait...

That's not all.

He should also be celebrated for his humanity, his humility and his huge...

That's right folks. Here is an artist who could so easily be riding the wave of his own success and being swept away by it. Instead, what does he do? He puts on a great big shiny charity event in aid of those who suffer from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. He - and a galaxy of local superstars - have collaborated to bring you the FASt Forward Fundraiser on the 4th of May at The Barnyard Theatre in Willowbridge. Joining Gerald on the night are such local luminaries as Fokofpolisiekar, Valiant Swart, Heinz Winckler, Theo Crous, Luna Paige, Natasha Meister and Guy Collins. Fuck! Stick a fork in me - I'm done! That line up is so good, I think I'll be in attendance! Do you think Heinz Winckler would mind some good natured heckling?

Show details:
Date: Sunday, 4 May
Venue: Barnyard Theatre, Willowbridge
Time: Doors open 18h30, show starts at 20h00
Address: Carl Cronje Dr, Cape Town, 7530
Bookings:  021 914 8898
Tickets: R 150
Online bookings:
Facebook event:

Social media links:
FASt Forward Fund Facebook page:

Media contact: 
For more information, media accreditation to the show, high res images and/or interview requests with Gerald Clark please contact:

 Ice Carstens at 061 277 1983

So if you'd like to rub shoulders with the genuine and the generous, feel like you've made a positive difference in the lives of others, and enjoy a rollicking good evening of rocking out with your stocking out, be sure to join me at what promises to be a great night out - and a wonderful initiative! Hell, if you're lucky, I may even buy you a beer!

Spread The Love. Seriously. Do It!


Today we take a look at how to compose lyrics and music in a variety of genres. Below you will find helpful instructions and examples that will assist you on your inevitable journey to stardom. It's not like the old days, when women were expected to suck their way to the top, eh Madge? Times they are a changin'... *urgh*
Let's start with some nice lyrics illustrating the essence of popular white-folk music.

That bitch done wronged me
I hope her underwire
Puncture her silicone
And she die in a fire...

Look at me! I've got dice tattoos
My girlfriend's a maid on a luxury cruise

Moving on, we look into what it takes to break through as an urban artist.

Hip Hop:
Wear ill fitting shiny pants and basically say "Uh... Yeah!" a lot while holding the microphone at such an angle as to disguise the fact that you're so useless you're actually lip syncing to "Uh... Yeah!"

Appropriate anything from Ace Of Base, make a video with sun bronzed beach babes and voila! Insta-hit!

Radio friendly Pop/RnB/HipHip:
Scan WikiTube for "80s smash hits" and pick the first one with which you're unfamiliar, ie; one that hasn't already been ripped off and played to death on 5fm. Along with pre-programmed drumloop from your casiotone plug-in, add repetitive refrain of how you're partying/preening/posing/posting/puking.
Such as:
Walk into the club to hang with my boys
The Djs up there making all the right noise
These girls in the corner they looking so fine
By the end of the night I know they be mine

Or you could just drop to your knees and clutch the sand in anguish...

And what about the more alternative styles of music?

Goth - a genre much heralded for being the single most persistent - hasn't done anything innovative since shooting itself in the foot in the mid 90s. Not to mention the horrifying realisation that so many of its followers genuinely liked 'Toilet - The Movie' before public ridicule forced them even further into their little caves.

My favourite topic. The one genre with so many sub-genres it's like its own Ponzi scheme. In this case, its more the attire which defines what sort of metalhead you fancy yourself. Everyone starts out wearing oversized Iron Maiden tshirt with ill fitting jeans, terrible boots and an oily, spotty scowl of misunderstood misanthropy. Then we identify ourselves by whichever sub-genre we think will garner us the most respect for being "hardcore" and spend all our money on the appropriate clobber. In reality, it's really just a variation on extremely over-driven guitars and pissed off shouters. Most of the time lyrical integrity is rendered moot by vocal delivery. Go and investigate Cannibal Corpse lyrics and you'll understand why I haven't made up a nice example.

Punk? Punk was never a musical movement, it was a socio-economic backlash.

I'm going to get a lot of kak for this. Luckily, most of the people with whom I associate in real life know better...

Also, be very mindful to wear whatever kak the latest icon allows himself or herself to be seen in. These so-called pop stars are dressed. They don't pick their own fashion sense, it is thrust upon them by people who are clearly high or having the biggest laugh. "Let's see how far we can push these little fucking idiots and the limits of common sense." Ne?

All that aside though, we need to keep abreast of developments, technological and cultural. Music, like any other art form, is always evolving, and thank goodness for that otherwise we'd still be sitting around a campfire listening to Ubungu moer some rocks together. Or The Parlotones, who have somehow managed to suck the magic, soul and essence from music and create nothing more than a bland, blank canvass on which advertising executives can enjoy a merry old wank.

So, what's the "latest wat uit is"? Well, I suppose it would have to be dubstep, judging by how everyone and his ill-informed mother have taken to incorporating it in their own brand of dross. Here's how it's done:

  • Order anything off the menu at Panchos (it's invariably going to be shredded meat in a wrap).
  • Add a side of baked beans and a prune shake.
  • Allow to digest.
  • Run to the bathroom where you have an "in-bowl" microphone already set up and triggered by a motion sensor.
  • Once the commotion eventually subsides, inspect your Jackson Pollock stool.
  • Throw up.
  • Take the recording of the explosive bowel evacuation and superimpose that of the vomiting over it.
  • Filter through a midi interface and apply random sucking noises from your vast collection of overproduced VST plug-ins.
  • Load onto your MacBook and hop up and down behind it while you press play and "entertain" everyone at the club.

Skinny nerds making unintelligible noise for the particularly gullible. Perhaps they moonlight as fashion advisers for pop stars...

I think I may have gotten a little off topic here.
Suffice it to say that I am obviously not referring to all types of music as rubbish and am generalising on purpose. I stand by my assertion that only the top few bands in any scene/style/genre are worth anything.
I'm starting a movement, taking a stand...
Turn off your radio for starters. And explore and support your local dives - you'll be surprised what you find.

Oh, and a BIG SHOUT OUT to Mr Music himself, Mr Anton Marshall! I'll have one in your honour tonight.

NGDG: In the past two weeks I think I've been through more files than a fish moth in the Stasi archives.


Tuesday, April 22, 2014


Why does it irritate me so when clearly educated people suffer so cruelly from the idiotic knee jerk reaction to anything religious? Happy Easter? Ah, I'm sooooo fucking sharp and ahead of the curve that I simply cannot help myself and just MUST type something denigrating and (what I think is) funny about it...
Every. Single. Time. Without. Fail.
Yes, religious zealots have been committing atrocities in the name of whichever deity they choose to follow for eternity, but can you not also concede that people who believe also do many wonderful, selfless and kind things because of it as well? Stop being a gigantic dick about it. Most of you do it without even realising it.
And then there's the proliferation of overweight children being fed far too much chocolate.

Not to be outdone, the marginalised masses that listen to that heavy metal music have gone and shown their trve colours. You know, that bunch that is permanently spouting phrases like "don't judge a book by its cover" and "just because you don't get it, doesn't make it any less valid". If they collectively removed their heads from their arses, they might find out that there are more than the roughly 8 bands they endorse. Luckily, there are exceptions.

And then we swing, like George Of The Jungle, onto the next topic hogging headlines today. David Moyes has been handed his marching orders from Old Trafford after a woeful season in which he relinquished the League title and magically turned international superstars into mediocre palukas. No surprises, then... Didn't the exact same board of directors choose this man for the job from all the other likely candidates a few months back? Didn't they promise him leniency? How much is it going to cost the club to end his contract with more than 5 years left on it? Oh, and the interim coach is Ryan Giggs. Admittedly, he is almost unanimous with the club's fortunes over the last 25 years or so, but has sweet fuck all managerial experience. "Musical Managers" is a kak game.

But there is a silver lining. Due to my complete inability to follow a simple schedule, we are being forced to endure a bonus Dinner Club night on Thursday. Hallelujah. Perhaps that will take the stench out of this week's enforced misery? There's just something about having some time off and then being thrust back into the eternal ennui. At least I got a chance to sort my cd collection. The down side is that I discovered 3 of my discs are missing. For how long, no one knows. I doubt I'll ever see them again. It's like filing a missing persons case never to get the closure of burying your child.

I also had a series of very enjoyable lunches, so there's that...

And finally, I think I'll go home and create a mash up of the Swans classics 'Failure' and 'Alcohol The Seed'... Perhaps it's time for me to grow a beard and become (more of) a sanctimonious twat too...

NGDG: An asset manager told me today that Sainsbury's is the UK equivalent of Woolworths. I told him it's a Spar at best. Should've added that Woolworths is actually a CNA, and Tesco's branding makes it akin to Pick n Pay only insofar as you consider ASDA more Hyperama than Shoprite.

Spread The Love. That's The Bottom Line.

Thursday, April 17, 2014


Bugs never got the hang of "Pass Over"

It's the last day before the long weekend, so in the spirit of Easter, here is the most significant story with a bunny in it since 33 A.D...
What that has to do with celebrating the resurrection of Christ and your subsequent free pass into a heavenly afterlife, fuck only knows. Unless Hugh Heffner is your chosen deity, it doesn't make any sense. Along with the egg, another eternal participant in life's seemingly endless list of conundrums.
Personally, I'm looking forward to some well deserved rest, wicked as I am. Plans include toasted Hot Cross buns in bed with coffee and some lyric writing. Well, more like making sense of the tons of garbled, half sung ideas and thoughts on my phone's voice recorder. And all the little scraps of paper floating around the dark recesses of my bag and pockets. One day such memorabilia will be worth something. I hope my Mom has a tidy retirement lump sum to spend.

Also, check out Art's Not Dead for the inaugural installment, an interview with the exceptional Andy Lund. I think it's a great idea - look out for more to follow.

Has anyone ever wondered what Frank Zappa would be coming up with if he was still with us? I'd have liked to see him collaborate with Michael Gira in his current "Asymmetrical Music" phase... Fuck Skinny Puppy, if I were running Gitmo, that would be the soundtrack to dementia.

If you haven't picked up on it yet, I have precious little with which to fill your stockings this Easter. Odd, isn't it? But I feel like I've been neglecting you, my faithful and handsome readers, a little lately. So I have resolved to feed your ravenous minds with whatever sordid secretion comes from mine. Because you're worth it.

And because so often my best work stems from finding a uniquely wonderful or funny picture of boobs and then just running with it. No such luck today, I'm afraid. So before you close this window and run to the bathroom, let me make good my escape. Have a fantastic Easter. Be good to one another. And for fuck's sake, DRIVE SAFE!

NGDG: I just got a Whatsupp from Mandela. Sorry man, I already have plans.

Spread The Love. Playboy. Centre Spread.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014


Grease nipples. Hard to find...

So, here I sit on the short week leading to Easter. According to the internets, no one wants to be at work. I know I don't. But then how is this state of affairs any different to any other time of year? Have we become so accustomed to our annual "long weekend bonanza break"? I look forward to it, not for the break from the airconditioned office or the fact that I work in "civvies", but for the break in relentless internet fed news awareness.

Yes folks, I am that cheap that I don't have the internet at home. I have it on my phone, but so far have avoided using it too much. Cobble together the fact that I have no restrictions on my 9-5 work internet, I have no need to download anything - ever - it's piracy (besides I contribute to rampant crime every now and then by getting the odd series or movie from friends), and the fact that I would rather stick an HB pencil in my jugular or eat my own offspring before I indulged in "gaming", and you'll understand why not being online outside of work doesn't frighten me in the least. So I get a long, deserved break from all the pointless hot air of the English Premiere Soap Opera and the farcical so-called "trial of the century". I also get to avoid all the seemingly intelligent people who can't help but follow this shit. Trial by media is nothing more than a glorious opportunity for the average Joe to betray his bloodlust and mob mentality. Why can't we just allow the law, such as it is - the protagonist with the most expensive and innovative legal team ALWAYS prevails - to run its course.

Which brings me to what I got up to over the weekend. Other than gloriously and graceful getting stuck in the netting and spraining my big toe at football on Friday night, it was great. Well, the toe and the bus ride from Hell on Saturday. I have never enjoyed public transport and were it not for the drinking and driving laws (and obviously the dire consequences of doing such a stupid thing), I would never set foot or bum in a bus or a train. Enter MyCitiBus... Clean. Efficient. Convenient.
If only it was an exclusive service and not open to the smelly masses.
It took me 2 hours to get to Tableau Voi, where I was headed to The Hot Girlfriend's place for a braai with her folks. 2 Hours? Of which I was forced to stand more than half the way! And as soon as I got to sit, I was enveloped by a person whose barely believable ability to get through the bus doors was eclipsed only by her opinion that regular sized chairs were designed to accommodate her sweaty enormity. And the occasion small planet...
I realise that even talking about the obese among us is taboo, but I'm willing to take any and all abuse in this truly exceptional case.
But it was all made better by the time I opened that first beer. And then the mood barometer swung heavily into positive territory when I was served a perfectly braaied hunk of rump the size of an inordinately thick duvet.
In other news, I was asked (dared...) to write a guest post for the inimitable Mr Anton Marshall's blog. Quite an honour in my book, so I jumped at the chance, completely misunderstood the brief, got completely carried away with my own self-absorbed agenda, and got published anyway!

Also, last night I wrote some songs with my newly official guitar co-conspirator. Teapot, this is not the end.

And on that rather pointless note, I bid you all adieu. Until tomorrow. Maybe. I don't know if I have the strength or inclination to go back and proof this damn nonsense, so if you find any errors, please feel free to shame me publicly. After all, newts are notoriously clumsy spellers.

NGDG: Toothpaste is the best hangover cure.

Spread The Love. Get Your Tongue IN There!

Thursday, April 10, 2014


Flexible Helen Magazine

Oh well. So long, FHM, it's been real! Another nail in the coffin of print media. Wait? Is it the printed magazine? Are they carrying on with an online version of The World's Greatest Guide To What To Wear So You Look A Prat? I decided to go and double check my facts before I looked like a prat myself. Then I clicked on the link...

It's kinda hard typing the rest of this post - trying not to get vomit on my fingers as it occasionally splashes up from the hard-to-reach recesses on my keyboard. But for you, my most revered and adored readers - I will persevere. Unlike certain publications that should go under for glorifying that "chick" from that "band" Die fokken Antwoord. How is it that they get under my skin so effectively? Could be worse, I suppose...

But getting back to my point. Did I have one? Let's go with "everything is kak". (Not really.) FHM's demise is symptomatic of a shift in consumer, um, consumption. I always thought magazines were a bit expensive for what you got. My friend Pielkop had a "scratch-and-sniff" porn video once that came with a postcard that had little squares on it that you sniffed according the corresponding scene. It was a bit difficult to keep up if you were prone to fast forwarding to the "good parts" but it was at least value for money. Not so much with the multitude of rags available today. I fully understand that ad revenue is what drives income and therefore keeps a business afloat, but some have gone so far as to have virtually fuck-all content. Then you may as well have bought Heat. But ja, the internet has gotten rid of just about everything else worth having in real life, so why stop at print media? Perhaps everyone bouncing up and down in violent indignation at the genetically modified food they're forced to feed their toddlers should rethink downloading free torrents of movies and series and all the fucking music on the planet. The internet is, after all, only doing exactly that; providing a synthesized version of the real thing. Just because your guilt is assuaged at not paying for something doesn't make you any less culpable than that guy sticking a coat hanger down the window of your car.

Perhaps I'm too old fashioned. Perhaps I prefer things the way they have always been. If I dropped my book in the toilet, it could always be dried and hurriedly donated to the Rotary Club stall outside Checkers on Kloof. Not so much my millionty Rondt smart phone. I like the internet - don't get me wrong, but in far too many instances it is used not as a tool for enlightenment, but to dumb down the entire world's population. Well, those with fast enough connections.

The truth is I'm just sour grapes. A one-line opinion of mine was published in Playboy a while back and for love or money I couldn't find a physical copy. I was desperate to show my Mom that I'd finally hit the big time and that my 10 years of studying wasn't a complete waste.

It's silver lining time. Now, you don't have to stand in bank queues. And even if I dedicated every waking second of the rest of my life to finding the best porn available, I couldn't even get to 1% of it, never mind the really nasty stuff. Actually, now I'm depressed again...

To cheer myself up, I will once again channel Martha Stewart this evening as I host the usual suspects for Dinner Club. See, I am an adult! We drink good wine and eat well, all the while staring at each other in silence trying our best to think up topics other than the banned ones of politics and religion. Mostly it's suitable moans of "Ooooh, this is lovely! You've really improved since that time we had to order pizza!" or Rose Thorn complaining about work.

NGDG: If I learned from my mistakes I wouldn't say 'go on then' to cake.

Spread The Love. Pass The All Gold.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014


Sports Minister Fikile Mbalula is a dangerous man. Dangerously stupid. Dangerously ignorant. And dangerously close to making a mockery of all we as a sport (and sanity) loving public hold dear. But he is also a danger to this whole notion of free and fair elections our "democracy" dreamed up around '94...

Yes he is a gigantic turd with barely the mental faculty to tackle basic linear arithmetic, what with his diligently researched new quota system in national sport. But let's let that one go for now. He's not the first and he won't be the last to use sport negatively in this country instead of the way one or two more prominent of his predecessors in politics were wise enough to do. No, it is exactly his politics that bear scrutiny. Or rather ridicule. If it were only that simple...
I'm no political analyst, but I just can't seem to let his accusations of witchcraft against the DA go. He actually said (probably in all sincerity) to a group of disenfranchised voting fodder that the DA was employing witchcraft in the Western Cape to stay in power. I don't know if it's the body blow of disbelief or the overflowing mirth that makes me want to collapse in a heap of helpless dribbling, but it's what I want to do right now. And then to go on and call on tokoloshe to help rid the community of this evil? Not to mention bringing up lack of service delivery as a reason to oust the most successful local government in the country. Pot. Kettle. Black in a non-racist-purely-observational-way.
Too fucking much to bear! Is he that stupid? Or does he simply assume his audience is? Either way, the oaf is in dire need of a hefty PK.

Consider the laws of physics. Everything tends towards a state of equilibrium. It's the fundamental premise on which everything in existence is based. Racism will remain as long as there is a reason for it to remain. In both directions. Continue feeding the fire and it'll eventually consume all of us whole, even those who choose to have a more measured approach to determining peoples' worth and a rose-tinted outlook on the future. It's malignant fucking shiteaters like Mr Mbalula that are the problem. Let's not even get into all the other shit so blatantly and shamelessly paraded on our news channels 24/7. He just makes a convenient symbol of a world dumbed down.

I can't take the grand standing and cheap politicking anymore. I can't take the hollow promises and the smug smirks anymore. I can't take the damning "Ja, but they're kakker than us" rhetoric anymore. And for the love God, can we please just get this "trial of the century" out of the way now! What's wrong with you people? I couldn't even get a weather report this morning - across ALL channels! Fuck everyone who has a hand in creating a demand for this insane coverage. You should all be ashamed of your Heat Magazine mob mentality. At least that publication had the decency to include the odd page 3 bimbo's boob slip.

Oh, and while I'm at it, fuck you ETV. Thanks for once again only securing Tuesday night Champions League football. Cheapskate motherfuckers.

NGDG: If your estate agent in the Ferndale area is called Denis, don't shake his hand - it's been up a prostitute all night.

Spread The Love. And Some Enlightenment Please.


Judge a book by its cover! In this instance you'd be spot on!

The cover art on Terminatryx's latest offering - full length album 'Shadow' - is your first clue as to what's inside...
Emblazoned on the front is a dark, dense manipulation of lead singer Sonja, as imagined in the almost scary recesses of the genius that is Dr-Benway's twisted mind. It is a fitting, and magnificent, introduction to the astounding aural pounding you are about to receive. Amen.

So, down the rabbit hole we go into the 'Shadow'...

I'll do my best to steer clear of generic platitudes. They don't help anyone and this album deserves more than the average "review" so often shat out by so many so-called critics.

Firstly, the album benefits from a decidedly beefed up production, courtesy of Paul Blom (bass, guitars, programming, drums, synth, backing vocals) and the much vaunted Theo Crous. I can only imagine the long hours and dedication it took to deliver a product of this undeniable quality - and the proof of the pudding is indeed in the eating! Gloriously guttural guitars are driven by drums that are hit so hard it feels as if your speakers are permanently on the verge of rupturing. The programmed synth remains impressive throughout and the juxtaposition of harsh and delicate vocals adds a "velvet-vs-violent" dynamic.

Starting off with the crushing mechanical instrumental Metropolis, 'Shadow' hurtles through the inevitable indictment articulated in Holy and the (literally) thunderous, if more thoughtful, Scars without relinquishing its grim choke hold on the listener's jugular.
Masjien, the only Afrikaans track on the album, offers something in the way of variety and pins you down with an impressively insistent hook.
Shadow is the first single and, for me, the jewel-like stand out track of the album with a haunting refrain that's so catchy it would be classified a virus [intended...] were it discovered in rural Africa.
Uncharacteristically, Terminatryx then take a turn to the tender with the mecha-melancholy Gone, before returning to more familiar fare with the angry stomp of Purifire.
Poring through the exquisite booklet, its evident that Sonja has had more of a hand in the writing of this album and her influence is refreshing, and obvious on tracks Nothing and Medusa (either end of "operatic instrumental?" Outcast - for me the other standout), which close the album on a distinct high.

As it stands, 'Shadow' is available on disc and download. Contact the band on their Facebook page or on Twitter, or check out their Bandcamp page. Also on iTunes, CDBaby and Amazon.

Final conclusion? I was given a copy of this CD. I get given a lot of CDs. I get given a lot of CDs even though I am in no way obliged to review them whatsoever. I do as I please on my little virtual soap box. Terminatryx have created an album of such character, depth and churning, chaotic lustre that I am going to buy it! Yes, I am going to go back to them and pay them the money I should have contributed to their indiegogo campaign. THAT'S how good this album is!

You should do the same. Not for any other reason than you owe it to yourself.

Spread The Love. "My Soul To Burn"

Friday, April 4, 2014


Fun with hot dogs.

...I would.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a dog. It's the life, let me tell you. The sheer simplicity is almost overwhelming. To be so happy at the thought of food, a walk, your owner coming home, and auto-fellatio. You get praised for lying around and being lazy. You get to shout at passers by you don't like. It's almost like being an English football fan! And the best part of it all is you don't have any of life's more refined experiences with which to compare your relatively mundane life and limited cuisine. You LIKE eating pooh, for fuck's sake.

But not all hounds are so lucky. Some are resigned to a life of hardship and squalor. No love from a caring family, not knowing where their next meager meal is going to come from, exposed to the elements and miserable. Thank God for the kind, generous humans among us who take the time to care for these neglected canine souls. They are the real guardian angels walking among us.

Never miss an opportunity to help. Words to live by.

And if that opportunity comes in the form of an awesome amount of fun, then you really have NO excuse! Tomorrow the Animal Welfare Society Stellenbosch is hosting a day in which you get to bring joy to the shelter dogs in their care as well as doing some good in the process. Did I mention how much fun is involved for you? You get to walk a dog through the beautiful Winelands of Stellies - there is a long and a short route to choose from - and afterwards you get to enjoy cake, cooldrink and boerewors rolls. Join Tarty Farty Tequila Party and myself at our soon-to-be-famous Mung Grill! We'll be spending the day making boerewors rolls for you! A more South African day of blissful fun in the sun you could not ask for!

So let's see a bunch of you all there tomorrow. It's at the Animal Welfare Society Stellenbosch located on Devon Valley Road (which is just off the left of Adam Tas - R310) once you've passed Distell coming in from the Neethlingshof side. The dog walking hours are from 9h30 - 14h00, so please feel free to pop in, bring a leash, and have the best day of your life! Nothing lifts the spirits like seeing all those tails wagging...
R20 per person for a walk and R10 per dog. I'll be serving you sausage, and hoping the hounds don't make off with it all cartoon style...

I can't wait to be like "carnival folk".

At least it's for a good cause.

NGDG: The smug old man who changed my headlamp actually giggled when I removed the little plastic bonnet. I allowed him his fun. Because he'll die at that Midas and I'll cherish the memory of when last I bought bulbs there: his arm got trapped in my Rover's wheel housing and he whimpered like a bitch.

Spread The Love. Doggy Style!