A LIMINAL AFFAIR

Well.... well.... well.... well....

Been a while would be the understatement of the millennium.

My last post, and one which had a very lengthy pause before that too, was when I felt compelled to honour the death, and distinctive life, of Prince.

Yet here we are. Again.

You may ask yourself, in your best David Byrne impression, what on earth has dragged me from the mothball ennui of literary isolation? What could possibly has awoken a desire to scribe my thoughts once more?

I'll tell you. I witnessed, felt, TASTED something so visceral, so awe-inspiring on Saturday night that I reached for my quill, licked the tip, and left some voice notes for myself to reference.

LIMINAL FEST. Words fail me, but I shall endeavour despite this glaring shortcoming.

A line up of dirgy bands the like of which has not been seen in our fair city for many a year, if ever. I'll start at the very beginning.

P+A+G+E+S are a relatively new band and have very quickly risen, like the cream of the crop that they clearly are, to the top of everyone's conscience. Finding yourself in front of any stage they occupy is to be immersed in their avantgarde, dreamlike droner doom. You do not watch and listen to them. You experience art... their art, their expression, and you drink it in until it drowns you. It is barren. It is brilliant. It is beautiful.

STRAGE are in the most literal sense of the word, veterans of SA's underground, bringing their unique drudge/sludge doom across without relying on words, and through a backline that shakes the ground on which you stand. Jarring, their monumental sound rolls in and fills the space like a black, relentless storm.

VASTVALE have made an immediate, and important impact. A band of such immense power, somehow they manage to deliver punishing riff after riff whilst remaining poignant and poised at the same time. Songcraft and stage presence is sheer quality, a measure of the combined talent and experience that make up this doom-laden phenomenon.

Closing the evening's entertainment, CONSTELLATIA delved into their usual intoxicating amalgam of ethereal atmospherics and tortured post-black metal, tying a neat bow on the night and sending everyone home on a high.

I have rarely enjoyed myself as much as I did on Saturday night. It was wonderful. As in "I was filled with wonder". Which is rare. And takes me (perhaps back) to a very much happier place...

DEARLY BELOVED, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY...

...TO GET THROUGH THIS THING CALLED LIFE.

RIP Prince, the artist formerly known as many, many things. Genius, chief among these.

A good friend of mine commented that you couldn't get a word in edge ways with all the clamour from the trillions of Prince super fans the globe over. And he's right. But whilst no doubt he touched the lives of many, I reckon most of you would be hard pressed to mention songs beyond Purple Rain, Doves Cry, Kiss, Seven, or Cream. Rasberry Beret? What does Malema have to do with any of this?

Allow me to make a few simple observations:

1. Were it not for some thieving, conniving, bitch in high school I'd still have the majority of his collection. She was gorgeous so she got away with it.
2. Tom Jones is the anti-Christ for killing Kiss!
3. I actually owned a purple paisley button shirt in highschool.
4. I have an original copy of the Black album, which was recalled immediately after it was initially released.
5. The singular best cover I've ever seen performed live was when Andy Lund, Anton Marshall and Art Perreira did an impromptu rendition of 'Purple Rain'. Brought the house down.
6. I have a guitar named after one of his lewder songs...
7. Once, after enduring 'Purple Rain' being played over and over and over and over without respite (for days...) by Bennie in my army digs, I decided enough was enough and blasted him with some 'Gothic'. I returned to find all my belongings chucked out of the bungalow. Bennie was a dick. But I stole the chick he fancied, so fuck him...

Well that's it really. I was a big fan. Until I discovered Paradise Lost and my musical interests got decidedly darker. Nevertheless, to one of the greats, you may be gone, but your memory will live on, despite the fickle nature of social media's self appointed custodians.

"And I Saw An Angel Come Down Unto Me, In Her Hand She Holds The Very Key..."

Spread The Love. Let's Go Crazy.

TIP FOR THE LADIES. BUT JUST THE TIP...

HOW THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?!?!

You can tell that with age comes responsibility. And that with responsibility comes a great big ol' dose of being a boring ol' doos. Or at least that there's less time to cavort about on this digital playground than there used to be.

Anyway, things being as they are, I have to confess to being too busy to bother with the likes of you. I have been forced into the uncomfortable clutches of adulthood proper and other than the salary, am not enjoying it one bit. I even bought kerkskoene. Yeah, I shit you not. Talk about taking it to the next level. Had to attend a wedding this weekend so thought for once I'd like not to be the oke in steel cap Docs instead of a more respectable option. I chose the one wedding which proved my entirely wrong, but more on that later...

One thing that did get me wondering about life, love and everything else was a comment made by someone at this wedding. A young lady was lamenting quite vehemently about her lack of boyfriend. Stories of being completely ignored at the bachelorette party were punctuated with loud whoops of victorious delight at out-scrummaging the competition and securing the bouquet. Allow me to put this into perspective. We're not talking about an unattractive young lady here. She was perfectly fine in conversation and had no apparent physical blemishes or defects. Yet felt entirely overlooked in the romance department.

So I stumbled upon this little advice piece I wrote ages ago detailing the right way for young men to go about luring young women to give them the time of day. And when I checked the comments section, one very special person argued that I should do one from the female perspective. Now I'm no female and I actually dislike Mel Gibson quite a bit, but thought perhaps it would make a nice re-entry point to my soapboxing.

Here goes... How to nab a guy in 10 ways:
Hide your psycho. We all have a little crazy in us, but if you're aware of elevated levels in yourself, leave that for a surprise for later.
Did I say 10 ways? I overestimated my grasp of the mystery that is woman.
Also, I just now fully realise that I'm about to go flouncing about in a potential mine field like Captain Pants, so for the sake of my safety, think a list of dos and don'ts is excessively dangerous.
Basically, go and read the article linked above and be yourself. Perhaps a slightly kinder, more respectful and compassionate version of yourself. Oh, and alluding to having zero gag reflex may score you some brownie points.
Fuck, there I went and did it anyway. Now all the feminazis are gonna have my arse on a platter.
Apologies. In a world of equal opportunity and a level of political correctness threatening to strangle the last vestige of joy left in this forsaken world, you too may "nudge, nudge, wink, wink" your way to your own series of orgasms.

Anyway, clearly I'm a bit rusty. Hope you've all been taking your meds.

NGDG: The wages of sin is death. After deductions and taxes it's more like chronic fatigue.

Spread The Love. I'm Back. And I'm Worse.

SHE TURNED ME INTO A NEWT!

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I GOT A THONG THTUCK IN MY HEAD!

Sweet Baby Genius!

As we draw up our collective breath (thank you, Mister Stainthorpe...) and prepare for the final push, allow me to inject some levity into your dull existence. Well, I'll try but I make no promises. It's far too early in the morning and too late in the year for anything more than putting your head down and sucking it up. Hey, wait a minute!

It's December. The children have been let out of their institutional gaols and unleashed upon a citizenry unprepared for the incessant screaming. It's as relentless as the South Easter and even more annoying. I prefer the Fresh Prince's version of how summer time should go.

So what have you been up to? Getting your head down? Well, I am thrilled to report that the SUBVERS album launch surpassed even my lofty expectations and turned out to be a night of great success. And enjoyment. If you weren't there, then you'll be like that oke who feels a right kiepie when everyone else recounts that legendary time this or that happened - and all you can do is stand there nursing your Klippies 'n' cola around the fire dying of missilitis. To each and every one of the wonderful individuals who enjoyed the night with us - thank you from the bottom of our black little hearts! We trust and hope that you are enjoying the album! To our mates in ZERO STROKE, to Mercury Live and the team, thank you for everything - what a fantastic event!

Whilst we're on the subject of Mercury Live - the good people of Witchdoctor Productions have done it again! They brought FINNTROLL here for a good ol' dose of 'flagon n dragon' metal on Friday night and it was CRAZY! Bodies bouncing everywhere! Beer flowed. Fists pumped. Horns pierced the sky in choruses of HHFC metal synchronized unity and everyone had the time of their lives. Except this one doos. Who stood there watching, making sure his draft didn't get spilled, and enjoying himself quietly without giving too much away...

Not to be outdone in the ' beer n beard' department, Cape Town also hosted the Beer Festival this weekend and I was lucky enough to be the plus one of TheCraftBearResearcher. So I spent Sunday pinting away at a leisurely pace - what a pleasure! Luckily I was just drunk enough to ignore all the lascivious looks aimed at my long blonde hair and clean shaven face. I can't blame them. They haven't seen a beardless bloke in donkey's years.

Anyhoo, on with the dog and pony show. Almost there... Just . that . final . push . . .

Spread The Love. Vaalies In Mankinis!

BALLS DEEP AND MORALLY BANKRUPT.

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...

THINGS THAT SUCK

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...

Today is TARTY FARTY TEQUILA PARTY'S birthday!

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.