Chez OnRee

Jean pant

2008-01-11T03:23:00.000-08:00

i bought some underpants yesterday, cos my washing machines broken and i've worn all my other pairs about three times already. So i thought i may as well get two pairs you know? Cos i don't really go underwear shopping that often.
So i got them home and was all excited cos it was quite cold yesterday and i wasn't wearing anything under my jeans. And then i put these things on, they're like those tight-ish cotton cross between boxers and normal underpants, and they come up to my arms.. they're supposed to be quite short, but if i pull them up so my special bits are snug, then they come up to just under my chest. They're so long. I look like an old woman.
Now when i let my baggies hang down a bit so my boxers stick out just a bit for that sexy look for Carrie, I look like an incontinent man with a boob tube.
Don't ever buy underwear from Pick n Pay.

Coincidence?

2007-07-27T00:51:00.000-07:00

I think not..

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=onree

OnRee is currently penning his own Urban Dictionary entry. One for "Mary Smith", that common descriptive adjective.
Although its still a work in progress, the words "jilted", "ex" and "i thought you rather liked me.." are definitely in the mix.

Facebook

2007-07-04T08:37:00.000-07:00

This post is about Facebook, you know that social networking tool(?), and why I decided to quit it after one week.
It raised alot of very interesting questions for me, seeing as I had decided beforehand to only give it a five day evaluation and then decide if it was, as many friends had told me, an excellent and powerful tool for connecting and interacting with friends. Or, as I had told myself, yet another foray into the self-lobotomising toilet that is The Hype.

I like writing, and putting some thought behind what i write, so i've tried to give you a very honest and holistic account of my experience. But who am i kidding huh? the short story probably makes for far better reading: See, i met this girl at a kids party last sunday and felt my heart smiling as I spoke to her. She left a very gentle, creative impression on me and i would have loved to have seen her again. Again turned out to be Facebook, which I promptly joined the next day and skipped along to her profile, whistling and beaming and followed by singing white doves.
Imagine then, the pain and dismay, at seeing her current profile: Status - In A Relationship.

Bugger.

It was clear as day then, why i couldn't like Facebook no matter what. It wasn't because it was fake and nothing like real life. It was because it was exactly like real life. Ooeeerrr missus...

Okay, so thats the short story. If you're late for something then go, the rest is pretty boring.
There are plenty good things about Facebook. Once those lines from American Pie stopped ringing in my head ("Well, I know that you’re in love with him, `cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.") i decided to treat Facebook more like a social anthropology project. That, and it actually did look quite cool. So many of my friends where already in it. They where cool, but was I?
Within minutes it turned out that I was the twentieth person from my year at high school to join. Alot of Facebook is pure voyeurism, and I must say, once you actually remember who those people where its pathologically satisfying to see who they are now. Like picking at a scab. But not as rewarding. The few people i remembered turned out pretty much exactly how i thought they would. Bygones.

The voyeurism theme is prevalent though, I could now see my friends, and theirs, and theirs, ad nauseum. And people could find me too. Indeed, the best thing to come out of all of this was a "Friend Request" from Lee Darby, my bestest mate from Std 6 & 7. The first time I went to jail or threw a skateboard at my brothers head was with Lee. He lives in New Zealand with his wife now, Big thumb Lee, nice one.
Another nice touch is searching for your own name and seeing what your namesakes look like, what they do. In retrospect I can't actually remember what they do.. There was one in London who had a really fucked up cut n' paste picture though. ha ha that made me smile.

By day two I was addicted. Unlike GMail Facebook doesn't update automatically, so you have to go to it every couple of minutes and press refresh. Once I figured out what my wall was and where it was i could read stuff. Short stuff from friends. This was nice. Ish. No deep musings or electricity bills, just people taking ten seconds out of their day to remind you they where still alive. Facebook isn't the kind of place for anything or anyone too deep. I couldn't imagine a scribble on my wall starting with "Jesus Christ says .." you know?, (except actually i can, it would be something like "Jesus Christ says if you wanna ride, its gas, grass or ass!")

But these short scribblings, at first fun, then time consuming, and finally quite irrelevant, highlight another theme of Facebook - this 'slogan culture' we've developed over the last fifteen/twenty years.
No longer do you have the time, or create the time, to communicate in the lush and descriptive intensity that you are capable of. Because Facebook communication is all about quantity, not quality. It comes down to someone telling me "Just do it" (replace with any facebook comment here), and i think, "Do what?, and why?" Sorry, but 99% of this slogan culture is so bleak, and I like details, I really do. My life isn't made richer by the ones and zero's, its made richer by truly connecting with other human beings, and trust me, its usually the shit about yourself that you think is totally insignificant that's like nectar to someone else.

So I seem to moving to the dark side of Facebook. Lets look at a double edged sword now, the posting of pictures, of yourself and of your friends. The moment someone tags you in a pic, its broadcast to everyone that knows you. They get a link and you hope that, at best, it's flattering, and at worse it won't lead to any arrests for public indecency or vandalism. I'm not too bothered about what i look like anyway, but admit it, there have to be some photo's you've just cringed at? (Right now i'm thinking of a New York cab six years ago, aaiieeee..). The kind of nice thing with this, although i never actually did it, is the ability to post some severely unflattering photo's of your Least-Liked-Friend-Actually-She-Fucked-Up-My-Life-So-Fuck-Her-Friend. And although I could only really think of one person i'd do this to, the idea of perhaps posting a shot of a sweaty Uruk-Hai from Lord of the Rings, and tagging it with her name, was consoling in the most conniving of ways. Like a belly warm from cognac and cigar smoke.

But ultimately, it was Facebooks failure to pass my acid test for anything in my life that gave it the thumbs down.
Did it make me happy?
This isn't an easy question to ask, remember details, details, but i think the final answer to this was no.
I think, given the time, it would become a responsibility instead of a release. The pressure to constantly stay active, and look like you're Hey Wow! Fully! YEAH Man! is fake, and the quickest way to morose is fake. Last night i went to yoga, went home and made fish. I played some guitar and then i went to sleep, content and happily average. If I'd spent that time on Facebook, so occupied with what other people are occupied with, I think my brain would be smaller today.

So, at the end of all of this, I think we can all agree that the short version was alot better.
Told you so.

Epilogue

2007-05-15T02:58:00.000-07:00

The Five Greatest Bands Ever - Epilogue

So it only took a year, but the Five Greatest Bands Ever are now truly immortalised on Chez OnRee.

On sifting through the electronic debris of our collapsed civilisation millenia from now, I'm confident that any alien race will take OnRee's word for as absolute fact. So under the "Life form: Human, Category: Pinnacles of Sonic Achievement" entry in the Galactic Encyclopedia, you'll find just five great bands representing the human race. I take a moment to pat myself on the back.

So its taken so long, and to be honest its a bit relaxed at work so I actually have the time, but i'd like to wrap things up. What was very nice to see, was that even though the Greatest Five have been around for quite some time (none younger than twelve years), that all but one of them where still active. Indeed, alot has happened in the last year. Lets have a look.

The Possums have been the quietest. I did find a MySpace page but not very much happening. They do have some videos(!!) for download though. Too cool, thanks for that guys. It was also interesting to see how many posts there where with calls for them to reform. Nearly as many as the ringone and weight-loss ad's masquerading as real posts. Should call it AdSpace.

My favourite surprise, I must admit, is that The Rentals are in the studio, recording their third album for release later this year. I got hold of one of their new tracks "Walking with a Ghost" and its excellent. Its not classic Rentals, alot cleaner & tighter, but if its a taste of what's to come in the full album then I'm totally stoked, missed them so much & glad they're back!

Weezer are also working on a new album, number six for them, I'm excited but not as much as for the Rentals.

NoFX released an ep and a full album last year. All about taking the piss out of Christianity, it was good but lacked some of the new idea's that made their classic albums. Alot closer to home though, after the recent tours of Fat WreckChords artists like the Mad Caddies and Lagwagon, the talk is all about a NoFX tour to our very own South Africa some time! Whoo Hoo! Happy days!

Beloved Sparklehorse released fourth album "Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain" last year too. Quint got it for me for Christmas and I gave it a solid four OnRee St*rs. In reading reviews for it, I did start to get the impression that the past five years have been pretty hard for Mark though. I know i don't know him at all really, but I feel for him, its frustrating not being able to show him how much his creations, which are a part of him, mean to so many people. Wishing you nothing but happiness Mr Linkous.

And lastly the Pixies are, as I mentioned, making all these ominous bellows of a full blown come back, we'll see. Power to them.

So yeah, most of them still have the passion, its good.I was also interested in some statistics, so lets see:

Ha ha. That was quite a nerdy thing to do.
Anyway, i think the one interesting thing there is that they're all American! I didn't even realise that until now now..

Now I gotta give some kudos to some of the bands who nearly nearly made the nutty lunch bars of Greatest Band their own. These are elite ranks to be in so lets dim the lights.
First up is Ash, who sang 'Oh Yeah' to me on my radio every day in '95 while I worked on my final year assignment. And when I heard them play a cover of Weezer's 'Only in Dreams' in Sydney a few years ago, their indie-pop iconic status was pratley'ed and putty'ed forever.
The Strokes, for being,.. well, The Strokes. Future gods who spread their own sound revolution, like Nirvana ten years before them they came to wipe the slate clean.
The Smashing Pumpkins for being the Alternative cornerstone of the nineties. We look forward to their new album(! ja!) on the seventh day of the seventh month of this 2007th year. Nifty innit?
Biohazard for making testosterone, tattoos and loyalty worthy things. DFL!
Eels (who was just edged out by Sparklehorse), for some of the most beautiful arrangements you'll probably ever hear. Go listen to a track like 'Railroad Man' next to a lake far away from anything. You'll leave feeling alot more human.
Faith No More for jumping around in shorts, telling Anthony Kiedis he's a prat and doing 'rap-metal' along with Anthrax about ten years before Limp Bizkit fucked it all up.
And finally the Foo Fighters for taking the mantle of best rock band with humility and confidence. You have to respect any band that consistently releases best-seller albums but won't release a 'Best Of' to cash in over christmas. They played Reading in 2002 and finished their set with 'February Stars' as fireworks went off overhead. It was as touching as you could get in an english mudbowl.

And thats it!
phew, i don't wanna write another thing about music for a long time..
(Except that the Sons of Atlantis are playing at Roxy's on the 29th May 2007, come have a glass of red)
I don't really regard Chez OnRee as a proper blog, so I wasn't too perturbed by David Bullards recent comments about, briefly, how kak 99% of blogs really are. And since David is one of my favourite columnists (the others being Chris Barron, Nadine Botha & Hogarth), it wouldn't perturb me anyway. He makes me laugh, and any blogger stupid enough to compete with him makes me laugh as well. Nuff said.

Orrait bye.
Stay Wise.
Have Fun.

the Pixies

2007-05-03T03:11:00.000-07:00

Nod your head sagely, and stroke your beard.
For this is what you've been waiting for all along isn't it?
Adjust your reading glasses and murmur agreements under your breath as we weave this tale together. Together, i say, since even though it will be me narrating, it will be your memories that give mine credence.
We're finishing off the Five Greatest Bands of All Time with a bang, leaving the best to last some would say.

the Pixies.
Back in '93 I went to university. I was seventeen.I met a guy by the name of Olaf Wagner, a rather straight but nonetheless good guy. He wore Cats alot.As these things happen, we traded some TDK copies of our fave bands. I think I gave him some Metallica albums, he gave me the Breeders. The Breeders. I was in love.
Like one of those lizards on the Galapogos islands I had existed solely on the heavy metal scraps my older brother threw from the plate, or the christian videos they showed sometimes at school with shit like Ozzy Ozbourne eating bats & Iron Maiden doing Number of the Beast. But here was an entirely new beast, and it was time to evolve.

Like those hippies in the sixties, I like to think each person has their own personal summer of love. Its when life conspires in an almost Paul Coelho-esque way to bring enough fantastic things together for you to realise that the world is indeed a beautiful place and that its a wonderful life. (A simile for Girls, Music, Ale & Sun really*)
So there I was, Summer of Love '93/94, literally popping out of my baggies and in love with a woman I could never have. Kim Deal's lips smiled back at me whenever I saw her photocopied face sellotaped to my guitar case. I painted Breeders logo's on my canvas case next to peace signs (yes.,i know..), and even had the nickname Kim for a while. (This was okay since Soundgarden had a bloke on guitars called Kim which made it cool and not gay.)
So before you could say Ed Is Dead, I had hit a motherlode of indie-alternative, a house of Tanya Donelly's and Kristin Hersh's. A world filled with Muffs, Cocteau Twins, Primitives and Sisters of Mercy. Smashing Pumpkins in the kitchen and PJ Harvey's on the roof, shouting at the moon. A family, but with one undisputed head.

The Pixies.

There are many accolades you can give a band, but there's one that transcends all.
Its when a band makes you want to be in a band.
When just lying in your room, listening to a copied tape playing through your kak Aiwa tape deck, sounds better than anything you've ever heard before. Actually, you have heard it, its in the desperation and euphoria you've felt since you where sixteen so the notes and pace and lyrics come like deja vous.
Frank howls and it shouldn't sound good. Joey slips riffs like splintered glass in your skin and it shouldn't feel good. David sounds gaunt and angry, his snare snaps like brittle bones and it shouldn't sound good. Kim repeats those same beginners' bass lines and for the life of you this really shouldn't sound good. And it doesn't. Because after hitting all five Pixies albums in a space of six months, your concept of the word 'music' becomes synonymous with this band. They don't sound good, or bad. They're not making music. They are music.

Phew, some heavy words there.
Hope you're nodding your head though.
If your name is Olaf, or Ashton, or Jayson, then you sure are.
So do you want to go through stuff like albums, and songs, and history and stuff? We'll see if there's time later, there's so much (great) reading material on the net for these guys that I think I'd be flossing a dead horse.
A nice tale is this one though: That when Frank Black and Joey Santiago first put out an ad for a bassist wanted, they got only one response. Kim Deal. She arrived at the audition quite enthusiastic despite the fact that she didn't even have a bass guitar. Her sister, Kelly, had one back home so Frank lent her fifty bucks to travel across states to get it. Nice one Frank.
Then, very briefly, they got signed to 4AD records, released 5 albums, toured the world and broke up with the same lineup. All this happened between 1987 and 1992. It still warms me at night that one of my truly favourite acts of all time started playing when I was only twelve..

I left home when I was eighteen and worked in a pizza shop for cash. I could make forty pizza's a night and it remains the most rewarding job i've ever had. I rented a freezing outside room with no hot water near varsity, and wouldn't own a car until four years later. After class (or more likely drinking in the kaf) me and my mates would come back to mine, climb the ladder up to my corrugated iron roof, and park off. Park off with a quart, watching the sun invent new colours on the Aukland Park clouds, and listen to the Pixies. Its their melodies that play in my head when i remember those times.
Its impossible to pick out Pixies' songs, for whatever reason. I would always get so frustrated trying to make a mix tape, trying to decide between Pixies tracks. I've read quite a few articles and sites that try and trace some kind of change in style and sound as their careers progressed, but I think thats a bit of a stretch. You could stick each Pixies song on a name-tag, pin them to a wall and blindfold yourself. Whichever thirteen tracks you hit with your darts would sit perfectly together on an album. I think. Yes, synths crept into later albums but never overpowered or led in any way. Their songs are just neigh impossible to fault.

I also liked the way they came across. Remembering here that my previous role models wore cowboy boots, tights and make-up, identifying with a bunch of working class guys in sneakers was more relief than anything else! It was an honesty they brought to everything, and if you've ever seen a Pixies concert you'll know that Iraqi statues move more than Frank & Co.
I've only seen them on dvd, but i like to think that there's a time and place for performers like the Pixies. Where the spins and leaps and knee skids a-la-Fall-Out-Boy, are replaced by this god-like presence. These four sage's who dole out healing for the soul.

I did manage to see Frank play an accoustic set in london, he was terriffic and did a couple of Pixies tracks, but (sorry for pointing out the obvious), something was missing.
I was then in london a year later, drowning my sorrows with Bruno at the fact that the Breeders tickets had sold out weeks ago. I would be missing Kim playing live. What happened then still makes me smile. We walked back through town, and purely by coincidence walked past the London Astoria where they where playing that night. It turns out I had the most mortified look on my face, since a young girl came up to me and gave me a spare ticket she had for half the price. I thanked this saint and the Breeders absolutely rocked!
I was also in Chicago back in 2001, where through yet another series of strange events I ended up with the Breeders at Steve Albini's studios. I was skating just before so I had a chance to get the adrenaline out of me, which was good since, well.. fuck i was gonna hang out with Kim Deal man!! Kim was humble, funny, charismatic and kind. She bent over backwards to make me feel at home, she made coffee, we played cards and i smoked her cigarettes. I think many people fear that meeting someone they truly admire won't be all that. But this was. I left with the same love i had entered with.
Steve Albini rightly told me my demo cd was shit, but at least offered to introduce me to some latino girls i could marry and get a green card. Cool cat that one.

So where does this leave us?
Rumours of new albums, reunion tours, live dvd's, compilation albums. The Pixies machinary creaks and we all hope it has a Jackie Chan ending, since how many bands do you know to come out of semi-retirement blazing like they used to?
As for me, well I'm okay. I figure it may not hurt to come back after all these years, and in any case they've done enough to get anything they want as far as I'm concerned.
The Pixies are a personal band, if you've read this far then I don't doubt you have a place for them in your past as well. I just hope I've done them my own little justice.

The Pixies. They are, and will always remain, one of the greatest bands ever.

NOFX

2006-09-21T02:47:00.000-07:00

I was reading over my previous posts, the greatest bands ever and all, and i started to get worried that it was all getting a bit dramatic. Perhaps a bit too touch feely. And then i thought fuck it. If you cant be touchy feely about one of the most important things in life, then whats the point of it all anyway? Fuck. So with much swearing, substance abuse and old baggy shorts, I give you... NOFX!!

[Okay, sorry, i shouted there... see, thing is, our lads in NOFX have this fundamental hatred for public displays of adoration. They honestly believe in the whole underground keep punk rock elite thing.. So pretend i'm being all cool and underplaying their sheer brilliance, even though i'll be doing the opposite.]

So years and years and years ago, probably about the time you where crying on your first day at nursery school, a couple of guys started an utterly shit punk band called NOFX. They where terrible, absolutely awful, but in their defence they where only sixteen. So lots of kids start bands, and they suck (i did), but why do some bands keep going, and going, and going, until they cant help but sound amazing? Its like I tell Quinton sometimes, when we're watching telly, and there’s some obscure fucking Ukrainian who's managed to squirt orange juice out of his eyes. I tell him, "Dude, if we didn't work, like Olgef over there, and we spent eight hours a day learning that shit, then we'd be able to do it too". And, now get a pen cos this is important, here's the clincher: Olgef believes in what he's doing. Getting on telly didn't matter to him. What matters is squirting orange juice out of his eyes. And that’s why NOFX had no choice, they couldn't stop going, they where always going to be the best punk rock band of their generation, because they honestly live what they preach.

mmm... Perhaps a bit airy fairy for you? Okay, so what about their music?
Shit. This is hard. Its california punk rock with splashes of ska for sure, but now you're thinking Brink 182 and Green Day and thats the last thing i want. No, rather think of the most liberating moment of your life. The time you walked away from a group of 'friends' who weren’t your friends at all, or when you realised you didn't really love your boyfriend anymore and had the guts to say it. Now add a total explosion of bass, surgical strikes of guitar and the tightest drumming this side of Bloc Party, and complete with enough black humour to fill a dead whale, and you've got NOFX.
Make sense?
Good.

Now NOFX have recorded about thirteen albums so far (wtf!?), so i can't go into that. Lets rather pick common themes like swiss chocolate from a girl scout and enjoy them under the NOFX sun.
ahhh, thats nice. So the first chocolate is about being happy, and really, isn't that what lifes about? Every time i put on NOFX its like having beers with friends, they just cheer me up man. Its cool. All that weight on your shoulders melt as you buy their mantras. They just take the piss out of all those fucked up pointless guilts and miseries we knowingly and willingly embrace.
Which is a bit like their next redeeming quality, having the balls to challenge society but having the brains to do it in a way that society will hear. Isn't that clever? Be angry with the world, but tell them a joke and they actually might listen. They also wear shorts. Cool.
Did I mention they write fucking amazing songs too? Their structures always manage to elbow just a bit more room into the punk rock box. They're fast, and they're tight. So so so tight! Tighter than the tightest thing you could ever think of!! aaaaiiieeee!!!!
And they make you think of things you'd never have thought of otherwise.. like the feelings of clams, or quitting your job for punk rock, or girls fisting each other.. Well okay.. perhaps not all of it is totally new... uhhh.. next paragraph next paragraph!

NOFX are already underground punk legends, they refuse to be played on MTv, they won't sign with a major label, but still you can head to your local Look n Listen or whatever, and look under 'N' and they'll be there. When I saw them play in London, they managed to organise an entire stadium for an independent punk festival! No big brands, no computicket kak, it was a total middle finger to the idea that we can't organise any events these days without some form of corporate fucking sponsorship! (And the Mighty Mighty Bosstones also played whoo hoo!) So if anything, let the fact that they're in your local cd shop, without the distribution of some giant record label, mean that they got there cos they're a great band that writes great songs.

If you're interested by this and don't know their stuff, try get a hold of them. My favourite albums where always 'so long and thanks for all the shoes' and 'Punk in Drublic', but i gotta say, their newer 'War on Errorism' was just phenomenal! So if you're keen, then try listen to them, but be warned, if you're easily offended by the glorification of drugs, hardcore lesbian sado-masochism or ridiculing religion, then you just have to listen to them!

NOFX, they are, and will always remain, one of the greatest bands ever.

The Wentals

2006-08-03T06:01:00.000-07:00

I'm going to cheat.
I have no other option.
Sorry.
It started like this:
I would drive each morning the same infernal road to work, the world a collage of brake lights and unhappy joburgers. Seeing unhappy joburgers always brightens my day, so i started bobbing my head to the new mp3 compilation pilfered from my brother, and thoughts turned to the number 3 slot of The Greatest Bands Ever. There where two bands i had in mind, intertwined and laced with the love and hate that only siblings can feel, so equally profound and deserving of the award. The enormity of the task weighed heavy on me, and the more i relistened their back albums, the more i realised they had to share the slot. Not because I'm trying to cheat and fit in more bands, its just that they are like two parts of one final philosophy that hasn't yet been written. I hope you agree.

So without further ado, I give you two of the Greatest Bands Ever, Weezer and the Rentals.

Weezer. i don't know where i'd be without them. Honestly. I've been sitting here for half an hour thinking of how to start this, and I can't. So let me just start at the beginning hey?
In the late spring of '94, an aspiring dj and mate of mine called Mike Austin hooked me up with some new music. In the pile was a tape by a band called Weezer, it was their first album and it didn't have a name, it was just called the Blue album because of the cover. Now if i ever met a genie, and got three wishes, the first one would be to see every drop of beer, liquor and spirits I've ever drunk placed in a big warehouse. I'm just so curious about that. The second would be to ask which album I had listened to most in my life. And I'm almost certain that it would be a waste of a wish, cos I know the genie's gonna say "Weezers Blue album dude."
I had that tape in my kak aiwa tapedeck on constant repeat. It was perfect. We used to haul deck chairs up onto my tin roof and crack open a beer, and pretend we where far away from Aukland Park and the skyline was a blue ocean. And if you where listening to Weezer, man, it wasn't hard at all. How can two guys, Rivers Cuomo and Matt Sharp, just get together, and in one year invent an entirely new genre in music?? But they did, now we have something called Emo, and bands like Jimmy Eat World, Saves the Day and Ozma are the living echo's of that seismic union between Rivers and Matt.

Rivers played guitar and sang, Matt played bass. They got a drummer and extra guitarist and within one year where getting played on radio stations from Tokyo to Johannesburg. Most reviewers like to label them geek-rock, but thats such a misnomer. Somewhere between surf, fifties and post punk rock is where you'd best find their irrepressible melodies and totally forgivable sentimentalities. Geeks, they are not.
They followed up the Blue album with Pinkerton, a very different affair, complicated and nowhere near as accessible. The sounds where dirtier and looser, and Pat sounds like he's playing a marching band drum set he found in some old ladies attic. The stories are definitely Weezer though, full of insecurity and innocence (or loss of..), but.. just... weirder. "I'm dumped she's a lesbian", or the song about the young (very young..) girl waiting for Rivers in Japan.. man,.. , it just got a bit.. (eyebrow raising motion..).. hmmmmmm...

Anyway, i still liked it and had it on one side of a tape i played in my beetle for about four months (the other side was Squeal's Long Pig). But the public didn't buy it, the sales flopped and i think Rivers called it a day. Not Matt Sharp though, he had some (i think) brilliant ideas for a different type of sound. So he formed The Rentals and recorded their first album 'Return of the Rentals'. It was so different to Weezer in its use of heavy distorted moog synths, and beautiful female vocal backings, it was alot more pop than rock albeit slower and darker. But it was again so similar to Weezer in its belief in melody and hooks you could sing along to. I think in a way Matt was alot more creative in his vision than Rivers, but his vocals would never reach the same heights as Rivers could. In a way they both sold themselves as the musical underdog, but it was Matt who could wear this badge a bit more honestly.

So where are we? Ok, the next thing that happened was that me and my girlfriend went to Portugal and backpacked to Spain and one fiery summers afternoon found shade in a local music shop. About to pay at the check out for my Manic Street Preachers album, i found myself staring at the 'New Releases' section where at No 1 was the Rentals brand spanking new album 'Seven More Minutes'. I love Spain. So did Matt. He wrote most of the album there and much of it is a homage to the Catalan way of life, one so easy to fall in love with. Even the cover is a blurry Barcelona alleyway.
Now by now our Matt was looking and acting alot cooler (quite like me at the time too I must say). He was hanging with alot of cool british folks, and you can hear people like Justine from Elastica and Damon from Blur on the album. I have absolutely no idea what Damon's on about in 'Big Daddy C' though, god i think he's awful. But the rest of the album is like a severely troubled child, one that you love unconditionally if its yours. I was also happy to see that Rivers wrote the title track for Matt, the world was a better place knowing that Matt and Rivers where still mates.

Now comes a bit of a lull, because Seven More Minutes doesn't sell. It would turn out to be the last Rentals album, a goddam pity i say but so be it. It would be a full two years before I found myself in New York City, at Tower Records, buying the brand new Weezer 'Green' album the day it was released. Its grown and grown on me since that day, listening to it while driving across north america in a big van helped fill me with images of endless prairies and unquestioned answers that bubble up whenever I hear the opening thuds of 'Dont Let Go'. Its a teriffic album, and even simpler and more accessible than the Blue album. My only gripe is the length though. I remember being priviledged enough to spend time with Kim Deal while she was recording a new Breeders album in Chicago, and the moment we spoke about the Green album we both said 'But its sooo short?!...'. I think it clocks in at under half an hour, what Rivers was doing for five years is anyones guess.

Since then Weezer released two more studio albums, of debatable quality, and Matt has released a solo EP and a solo album. The only one I haven't heard is Matt's solo album, but judging from his EP its pretty heavy listening, almost alternative country in a way. He's looking a tad haggard on the cover too.. (sorry Matt). But then the news that truly bothered me:... Matt was suing Weezer for proceeds from the Sweater Song, a single way back on the Blue album. Thats 12 years ago now!?. What was it all about? Was Matt done in by his former band mates? Or was it greed? Jealousy?

I don't want to know.
I'd rather leave you with this undeniable truth:
Somewhere there's a lake trapped in an eternal summer, where a nineteen year old you spends its infinite days swimming and falling in love and wondering why you feel so safe even though you're so far from home. And thats when Matt and Rivers will be there, to tell you why.
Weezer and the Rentals.
They are, and will always remain, two of the greatest bands ever.

A Brief Interlude

2006-06-08T04:48:00.000-07:00

I hereby enclose an email conversation I had this morning with Katy.
I don't think she'd mind.
It started with a slideshow she sent me of snow on the drakensberg.
Her mails are in blue:

Wed 11:11am:
See the little log cabin? How awesome does that look? I want to go there...
I'd need the addition of a roaring fireplace, a bottle of whiskey, tonnes of chocolate, blankets, pillows and of course, Jezza.

hmmmm .... sounds perfect!

Wed 2:46pm:
WOW!!!
Jisses!, did you see in one of the pics they’re actually camping!?!

Thurs 8:57am:
I know! I can't see the attraction, somehow?!

Thurs 9:13am:
I think when they left they never had any idea it was gonna be so… white….
Are they mates of yours?

Thurs 9:29am:
no idea who they are! they are still really dumb in my eyes! They are outside in that weather, or worse - maybe inside that silly tent when there's a big strapping 4x4 sitting next to them. Probably equipped with sound and a heater.

Thurs 9:41am:
That’s only the part of the tent you can see man
Underneath he’s obviously tunneled an underground palace with tropical gardens and jacuzzi’s
he’s just about to present it to his fair lady, while she’s farting about with the car’s sound and heater

Thurs 9:46am:
She's a simple woman, with simple needs like STAYING ALIVE and not freezing to death! They aren't on speaking terms anyway because he was the one who dragged her out there when she wanted to stay in the log cabin with the fireplace! It will be an adventure, he said. HAH!

Thurs 9:54am:
LOL!!!!
“You know, one day we’ll laugh about this” he says, tapping on the car window…
“ha ha… he he… uhhh open the door honey, it’s a bit chilly out here…”

Thurs 10:00am:
She is laughing about it as she looks in her rearview mirror of her 4x4 at the shrinking image of her silly man. He knows where to find her if he needs her, (next to the fireplace in the log cabin) but being a man he'll pretend that he's actually having fun and he'll stick it out in his 'underground palace' with the hibernating snakes and tortoises. To the bitter, freezing end.
Meanwhile the red wine and the chocolates are TO DIE FOR! And the fireplace has erased any memory of the awful adventure.

Thurs 10:14am:
But alas! A simple woman she is, for as any adventuring man knows, you Never leave the fire on in a log cabin.
“I am such a fool!!” she cries, standing in the charred remains of the cabin that Chuck built with his own bare hands.
She tries putting the brand new 4X4 into reverse, but almost impossibly, she has managed to break the clutch and carburetor with only ten minutes of driving.
Meanwhile Chuck, having memorized his map of the local area by heart, picks up a faint scent of baby oil and waffles.
No!..
Could it be?...
Yes! It could only be the Swedish Womens Ski Team lodge, just behind the hill!
Taking a bite on his emergency shwarma, he starts the short stroll to the lodge and hopes Gertrudina is okay.

Thurs 10:29am:
No INTELLIGENT woman, such as Aphrodite (not Getrudina), would EVER drive the clutch that way till it breaks. That was, In fact, Chuck's doing whilst he was playing HERO and trying to see how far he could ramp the 4x4 over the snow capped mounds of earth. The clutch hadn't quite snapped, so Aphrodite put on her rubber gloves and with a makeshift cable made from a combination of her opague stockings and hairspray, she managed to get the clutch in working order again.

She merrily made her way past the Swedish Women's Ski Team lodge in her heated car with the sound blaring. She saw a small luxury mountain villa in the distance. Funnily enough it belongs to Ryk Neethling. He is alone as the bad weather has trapped his visitors on the road up the mountain. He is relieved to have at least ONE visitor - Aphodite - to dote on, wait on and pamper. Little does Chuck know that the Swedish Women's SKi Team is actually a cover up organisation for a group of trans sexuals who are hiding out whilst they wait to have their adam's applues surgically removed.

Thurs 12:08pm:

The end.

Thurs 12:16pm:
LOL!!!I have no further comments....

SparkleHorse

2006-06-07T04:11:00.000-07:00

Close your eyes.
Sit down.
If you are quiet, and your mind is quiet, you can hear the wooden rocking chair beneath you comfort your weight. It does not creak, yellow-press stairs do that.
No, it gives you an oaky groan like an old dog stretching after a good sleep. You lightly and ever so slowly rock yourself on the wooden porch. Further out there is a gentle, omnipotent buzzing, a low chorus of crickets, and river frogs, and junebugs, staking their claim in the rows and rows of cornfield. The hour before dusk is a powerful time. Do not dismiss the last warm breeze. It tells a tale of sun baked crops and soil the colour of good bourbon, a wind that can put old friends' smiles on the faces of strangers. It is a powerful time, for soon the coolness of sundown will wake the cat on your lap, and with her weight and warmth gone, the spell will be broken.
But imagine you could hold that moment forever. Being in love, and alone, your heart forever at peace, and sad, at the same time.

I first heard Sparklehorse lying on a grey carpet in a tiny apartment, five years ago, in Iidabashi, Tokyo.
Its one of the rare moments in my life I can say I found something so essential, that my insides had been so thirsty for, and that I hadn't even known that I was looking for.
Here was an album called "It's a Wonderful Life", with 13 songs telling me that i wasn't alone. That some pain lasts, and the weight you feel on your heart is there to remind you that you're alive and that you've lived. Its good. Very very good. I spent three weeks travelling Japan and only listened to one album. When I hitched to this little spot called Tono, where they had never seen a westerner in the flesh, I was listening to "Gold Day". And when we crashed that bike we stole after a bottle of Jose cos the trains had stopped, I had "More Yellow Birds" playing in my head.
Its mainly one guy, Mark Linkous, who writes all the tunes and used to play most of the instruments, although now he has a rotating line up of musicians. He's a very interesting character, very humble and incredibly talented, and not a little depressed. In 1994 he packed up and moved into an old cabin in the woods, somewehere in north america. It was winter so he'd wake up at five each morning to feed logs to his boiler, to try heat up the house for the day. He says he wrote all the stuff for their first album that year, in those early hours watching the day get born. Isn't that a nice story? Pretty gutsy too I think, since he's forthright about the heavy depression that has always plagued him, and you'd think going to live on your own in a cabin might not be the healthiest thing for a manic depressive?

But bygones, he wrote the VivaDixieSubmarineTransmissionPlot album and luckily for us hasn't stopped since then. It came close though. One night while touring the album in London, he chucked back some valium and anti-depressants and passed out. The position he lay in cut off his circulation and he woke up the next day crippled. There is a grim irony in getting crippled by anti-depressants I think, and I like to think thats the way he saw it too cos he went on to record such a fine album, "Good Morning Spider".
Sparklehorse is slow, be warned. They have some super-cool rocking indie tracks, like "Some Day I Will Treat You Good", "Happy Man" and "Ghost of his Smile". But mostly its like listening to a bunch of cowboys who got their hands on some synthesisers, through your grandpa's gramophone. They mix their simple slide guitar rythms with mellow moog melodies to put your soul at ease, but leave the radio static buzzing in the background to remind you that the world can indeed be a hard and unforgiving place.
Mark has since recovered the use of his legs (good man!), and I got to see them play in London in '03 at the university of londons rec hall. Now look, straight up, that was the best concert I've ever been to. No smoke or crazy light effects, no kids moshing, no 'extreme' sports going on.
Just, Music.
I remember at one stage turning around, and facing the 300 or so audience, and watching every lip mouthing the words as Mark sang them, and getting this really nice snug feeling. Actually, come to think of it, I still have 2 shots of that gig at home. If I could just figure out how to put a frikkin picture on this blog, then i'll upload them.

So yeah, by now it should be painfully clear that I am totally and unashamedly Sparklehorse-bevok. And if you can listen to "Most Beautiful Widow in Town" while watching the sun go down, with a glass of Jack in one hand, and not feel anything, then on your bike. You'd better find the wizard cos you got no heart.
But if you do, and you like the cat on your lap and are happy to do nothing but sit on your wooden porch and watch the sun go down, then good for you. And that song you hear, coming from the old kitchen radio, all tinny and faint?,.. yeah thats Sparklehorse.

They are, and will always remain, one of the greatest bands ever.

Possum Dixon

2006-05-10T05:52:00.000-07:00

Its a long overdue posting to my blog i know. But it was a grey summer. So it feels like most of whats in my head won't make for very fun blog reading, so instead, and to help me get into the swing of things, i propose the following.
A five part blog dedicated to the five greatest bands ever. Ever. If my ears fell off today and the doctors could implant a chip that only had the capacity for five bands, these are they. This, by the way, is a favourite past time of mine, the top five thing, and especially with music. Dont speak to me if i look drunk and contemplative, theres a good chance the first words out of my mouth will be "So you're stuck on this island and you can only take FIVE bands works with you..". I take it seriously, and quite often swear never to visit your island. I also recently read that the moment you turn thirty five your interest in music disappears. Totally. So best to get this out there while i'm still a spring chicken.

Part I: POSSUM DIXON
The indomitable Possum Dixon. Oh we are the poorer for your demise. Gifted to an almost religeous extent, you where dandelions floating through the MTv prescribed wilderness of the nineties. If we ever met, I would have bought you all long islands.

In 1995 my brother picked up a random cd in the local music shops bargain bin cos he liked the name. It had a greeny blacky cover with prints of guns on it, with the name Possum Dixon. It looked terrible. The only interesting bit was the inside cover, which had a few pics of the band at a gig, and wow, they looked insane. I wish I could say I listened to them and loved them, but I can't. For someone addicted to Weezer and the Pumpkins, this was a bit kak.
Fast forward to june 2001. I'm sitting in a 2nd hand cd shop in Venice Beach, Los Angeles. I'm in heaven, they seem to stock every rare band I've ever wanted to hear. The owner is a great guy, he's already given me a signed copy of Jimmy Eat Worlds rare 'Bleed American' cover, and then I notice he's wearing a faded Possum Dixon t-shirt. "What do you think of those guys?" I ask. I can't remember the response, but suffice to say I walk out of there with a copy of PD's "New Sheets"
Not a great album it must be said, but it got me interested in their other stuff I missed. Stuff like "Star Maps", one of my favourite albums ever. They've got so much going on there its beautiful.
Theres your standard crunchy riffs and edgy addictive beats the right side of pop. There's these off key piano lines that sound like someone smashing the keys, but its inspired and intelligent. There's these mexican slants to the guitar lines and shakers that leave the faintest aftertaste of tequila and sunburn. There's lyrics that are confounding until you let each line tell its own story.
Stuff like "The promises are breaking like dishes", or "We can bury the past in the earth beneath us." - I love it I love it!

Previous to Star Maps was the murky cd my brother had, and no its not kak at all. Its like they strung these little accidents and mistakes into a whole that makes perfect sense. Its raw and challenging, but not kak. Interestingly enough, some of their best tracks where'nt even on albums and appeared as singles, or even unreleased! "These Words" is Possum at their smoothest & sublime, but was only available as a download a few years ago.. So you get the picture? Young, arty underground indie guys take too much drugs and live under the californian sun. Nothing wrong!
Rob Zabrecky was on bass and vocals, Celso Chavez on guitar, Rich Tuel on drums and Robert o Sullivan on keyboards. I think the only one not on heroin must have been Celso, cos all the others always look like vampires. Why didn't they eat burrito's? I was in San Diego and thats all I ever ate. Two dollars a pop. Anyway, if the drugs helped them write better music then fairplay. Lyrics like:
"She's just come out of the bathroom
And she's rubbing her nose
She's just come out of the bathroom
And she's taking it hard." smack of it..

As for their name, I've read differing views. Some people think it came from a suspected murderer on some program called America's Most Wanted. I prefer the explanation that they took it from a Ford car of the same name, that only sold a handful cos they wheren't that good. You know, I'd buy one of them if I could.
But a band can't be one of the greatest just for their music, at least not with me. So what is it about Possum?
I think its the combination of a few things. To be honest, the biggest thing is that they never 'made it'. I'm a musical snob, so when I talk about Possum and people don't have a clue, it makes me happy. Especially when they are so great. From a musical perspective they must have been eight years ahead of their time. I mean, Beck used to open up for them..
It also feels, like any great band, that they're walking those hard roads with you. You can relate with the songs. Its personal. The lyrics often don't make sense, but they're so diverse you can bend them to your own means. Their official site is down now, but when it was up a few years ago, Rob and Celso would respond to fans like they where mates. You could ask them anything. They where very frank about their heroin use, apparently a big contributor to their demise: "Just say no kids. God knows we should have" I remember Rob writing.
Rob's wife commited suicide during the recording of Star Maps. I don't want to guess how this impacted on their music, just thought you should know.

So where are they now? Well Rob is apparently a magician in LA. Celso has started a band called Pill Module (Been waiting 2 years for them to finish an album now..). And I think Robert is a software programmer! (heh, thought it was supposed to go the other way around!).
But for a few years in the mid nineties they lived a life worth living, and hammered out songs like little explosions.

They are, and will always remain, one of the greatest bands ever.

A footnote: Out of interest, in my research for this posting i found a listing for a magic gig that Rob was doing. With none other than.. David Lovering from the Pixies. Told you he's good.

Something truly original

2005-11-02T01:04:00.000-08:00

Why are pirates called pirates?
They just arrrr...
ha ha. Thats my halloween joke for you..

So I got an email from the King of New York, Alex C. It would seem that Al has been holding out on us, sending us a link to his 'new' blog (http://hairymopsblog.blogspot.com/), whereas the thing goes back a year.. Its a good read, (read the Ghost stories), but it also shows that having children and living in america makes you actually think about whats happening in the world (yup, its true). The nicest thing about it though, is that he chose the exact same Blogspot background theme as me, this smelly brown that could have been your grandma's Louis Vitton bag... It made me feel like my taste was not kak at all.

So on halloween I spent hours and hours preparing for my set at the Red Room. I lent dvd's from James and sampled loads of cool shit, I tried to pick really lurking, eerie tracks, and just generally put effort into it. On the night I was sweating! I know playing cd's isn't 'real' dj-ing or mixing, but like, some of my samples where like 10 seconds long. Try switching disks in that time in a grotto full of goths waiting to do the Punch The Hobbit dance on you.. Yeah. But it went down well and i was stoked.

Wish I had a good ghost story to tell too, but nothing's happened for a long time. I think ghosts look for maximum gain/minimum effort targets. I'm a tough crowd you know.

Its not scary or about ghosts, but it is quite esoteric and gives me a chance to think about it again, so listen up. Four months ago a most auspicious friend had a dream and texted me the moment she woke up. Now I save all my favourite sms'es, so here's the end of hers: ".. festival and she was wearing a yellow dress and a blue jacket and had long dark hair. You looked smitten." She reckoned she'd had a dream about my future, and I remember wishing she was right. Well, fate willing, she was, cos I met the girl in her dream three weeks ago on a flight from the coast. I'd been surfing and thought life couldn't get better,.. well, I was smitten.

Me and Gemma used to talk about fate and coincidence on an almost unhealthy basis. If she was right, and things happen for a reason, then maybe friday night will be special not only cos its my bands first gig. Maybe fate will be wearing a yellow dress. But hey, nevertheless it will be our first gig, we're playing with Sugardrive at the Roxy, 4th November, late. Come watch MixTape get born. I'm gonna try smuggle in my bottle of La Cave 2004 Shiraz. You celebrate big for something thats taken to come full circle.
Cheers!

Mr Sandman

2005-09-20T23:26:00.000-07:00

Its twenty past seven in the morning and I am at work. I'm staring at my Apple Cinamin Oatso Easy. In five minutes it will be cool enough to eat. I listened to Jimmy Eat World in the car this morning, and wondered how much I'd get on EBay for the cd. Not that I would. Its like that ten rand note you thought you lost that turns up when least expected.
So early mornings are unknown factors aren't they? I can't quite get my head around them. Its just that they're so extreme. I can't have an 'average', or 'normal' early morning. Impossible. Since I can remember its either been revulsion, amazement, optimism, whatever, but always in a heavy dose, nothing in moderation.

In my second year at varsity my Maths II class started at half past seven in the morning. WTF? I got a 13% semester mark and damn straight. Then there's the pinnacle of early mornings, the one you see from the back seat of your friends car at five in the morning. Unnerved by how much you had to say to anyone and everyone you saw at the club, yet now the only words you'll hear in the car are 'Goodbye'. 'Goodbye'.
And how you wish you could switch off those damn birds!And now, (I think I am getting old), I find really early mornings could be better than sex in the bathtub. In my second stint in London I decided things would have to change. My primary chemical benefactor had moved to Finland, the masses had discovered my favourite spots and, well, theres only so much you can toast your brain before it burns. So I found myself waking up at half past seven on a saturday morning in London with nothing to do. Nothing to do but catch a bus into the city, empty and beautiful, and watch it wake itself up. You can't believe how empty London is at eight on a saturday morning. Little vans deliver flowers and men in aprons unpack fish. You feel absolutely fantastic. (I really wanted to swear there but I'm trying to cut down on that..)

So ja, I think theres a photo I need to scan in and put up(?) on my blog. I went hiking with Joann and a couple of folks in the Drakensburg two years ago. We where supposed to sleep in this cave, but this was one damn secret cave, I dont think Lassie could have found it. So we eventually just threw down our sleeping bags on the side of the mountain and slept. The next morning we woke up man, and i've got this shot of me and Jo in our sleeping bags with just the tip of the sun coming up on the horizon.
Too cool.
Well, heres to your next early early morning.
Hope it makes you feel like you're living.

Aloha

2005-08-08T01:42:00.000-07:00

Wow, its been so long since my last entry.
And its been so long, i'm not really sure what to write.
There is a whole lot of stuff though so i'm just gonna wing it. Some friends reminded me i still had a blog, and it turns out someone else out there actually reads this shit apart from Brad and Mandy. How weird.. I strongly disapprove of this, so if you are one of them please stop reading now.

Alot happens in four months. I often look at old photo's and think how fast time is passing us by, but that can be deceiving. The last three months have been hard on my family, and so much has changed. I'm not going to dwell on this, but time seems to stretch that extra mile when life is really good or really bad. Its been bad lately, and i haven't felt like doing anything. Our band went into limbo, i don't write to friends, i don't paint, i don't swim, no cheesecake, no long islands, nada surf.

So thats the low down of the lows. Reason i'm actually sitting here at work writing to my blog again though, is cos last night something quite rad happened. I felt my flow again for the first time in a long long time. I had just finished producing my first cd for another person so i poured a glass of wine and sat on my stoep looking at the stars and listening to Weezer. I really want you to understand what my flow feels like though, but it involves a little story, so here goes:

1994, Westdene Dam, middle of the afternoon in the middle of summer.
You're nineteen, in love, and more free than you'll ever know. You're supposed to be in class but instead you're with your friends, braaing, drinking beer, swimming, lying on your backs watching the sun through the bluegum leaves. You've met a girl and she's the one for you. Your heart is happy. You belong. And every now and then for years after, you get this feeling in your heart, and you wish it would stay forever, and the only image you get in your head is that one day in the sun.Its a sentimental story, and you may barf, but thats what it feels like.

My dads tumor has "shrunk significantly". The best news Ever. Its a long road, but at least theres a point to the hospitals and drugs now, so we popped bottles of champagne and it felt like this weight was suddenly manageable. Brilliant. And dad is like a different person its amazing.

So ja, there you go. Its been a weird blog entry i think, maybe i should put down some random stuff i'm sure to forget.
Nadine had her book launch last monday, a book of poetry that now sits next to my bed and i try read one a night. She is passionate, humble and brave, and i'm proud to know her.
I started a new job at Netcare in Sandton where we have a subsidised kitchen!! Oxtail, vegetable stir fry, salads, pasta's, all five bucks! If you're near Sandton City one afternoon pop in and i'll buy you lunch. Rocking!
Our band played our first gig ever last saturday in Kyalami, it was great. We didn't invite anyone we knew, so to have folks coming to us afterwards offering to pay for recording, or be our manager, was just insane..
And lots of other things, but for now i'm just thinking its gonna be a good summer,,. Maybe its cos tomorrow is a public holiday and there was no traffic this morning, but it feels like we're all taking it a bit easier hey? Just the way it should be.

Okay, i just decided i'm going for a swim after work.
take care all of you.
A.

An Extended Holiday

2005-04-20T07:09:00.000-07:00

Its a funny world.
I've been thinking about True Love since I got my new cd's from James. He imported them on Amazon and dropped them off last saturday. I got 2 Ikara Colt albums, Life Without Buildings, and a double album by Daniel Johnston.
For anyone who doesn't know Daniel Johnston he's like the down syndrome brother of Jack. I always hover between cringing and adoration when i listen to him. The first cd on his latest album is a tribute by other musicians doing covers of his old stuff, guys like Beck, the Eels, the Flaming Lips, Radiohead tipping their hat. Its beautiful stuff, and fills my car so snugly that I don't even notice the BMW's driving up my rear any more. They're all songs about True Love, and they take you back a long way. They remind you of the times when you where living what he was singing.

Ahh.. sigh.. Where was I?
Oh yes, An Extended Holiday.
But before I start, turns out work installed some Surf Protection software to monitor/prevent our web usage while I was away on An Extended Holiday. It took a day to find the database and create a back door. Mission Impossible stuff*..
So An Extended Holiday started last month some time, me and Ian jumped a plane down to George and hooked up with Quint for the Nelson Mandela concert. It was magic, and Annie Lennox is now my new female hero. Either her or Queens new singer, Roger Waters, what a nana.. But yeh, we stayed in a mansion, lived in excess, loved from afar, and I read some killer chapters from Bill Bryson on the loo. We had passes for the sound check the day before, and sat in the sun watching our own private performance. It was just an honour. Hangovers, empty stomache's and sunburn faded away in the angelic magnificence that is Katie Melua, a voice from heaven tightly bottled in a body from the lustier levels of hell. Well, South East London actually, but close. Ahh, Katie.. I loved you, pure and chaste, from afar. And sorry for calling you Katy Manure, it wasn't that funny in retrospect. That night we had a party for Queen and their crew at our mansion, and me, Quint and Ian braaied for like twenty people. Queens sound engineer wanted my mum's boeboetie recipe, ..yeh, wha-eva.. i made a joke and kind of ignored him.. (as if?!)
The next day me, Ian, Lara and Vicky cruised down to Vic Bay, which now stands at #3 on my top five kiffest spots. Warm water, good surf, surrounded by hills and good vibes. Fantastic, despite the disturbing photo of Bertie from Egoli at the take away joint. Lara and Vicky came up from Cape Town for the weekend, and they are top girls to hang out with. I realised later I may have loved Vicky from afar too, though I may have confused it with pure admiration and perhaps.. a crush?? It may be my demise though, the fear of embarrassing someone I have feelings for..? sigh..
Nevertheless, that night the concert cooked and life was good. I felt better than I have in years. And standing next to Quint and Ian I felt a part of something bigger than myself. Life was limitless. Quint organised us backstage passes and we pilfered the open bar in hopes of calming our nerves. Well, me and Ian did, Quint was slapping Brian May on the back like they where army buddies. After a few glasses of red we tried to mingle without looking like tits, very hard i thought in those circles. The after party was rocking though. I made friends with Roger Taylors PA, Justine, and we stole a golf cart and ripped up Fancourt at three in the morning sipping Long Islands. If you have ever thought that the life of a rock star is superficial, empty and lonely, you are, in a word, wrong.

We flew back sunday night to Joburg, the armpit of South Africa, and with it slid slowly back into the predictable mediocrity of salary-men. A week later though my mate Kate arrived from London and we took a two week road trip around the country, Mpumalanga, the Kruger, Drakensburg, Ballito, Cape Town and an inbred hive of carn-folk called 'Bergville'.. So my Holiday kinda became An Extended Holiday, ending on the Camps Bay terrace of new friends house at dusk, sipping good shiraz. It was so hospitable of them to take us in, and I felt so bad for snapping their bed in two. But more of that some other time maybe.

for now, wise words from Daniel Johnston. easy to read, hard to live :

"true love will find you in the end. there is one catch though. you have to be looking for it, because true love is looking for you too"

later skaters

Great Expectations

2005-03-15T03:46:00.000-08:00

We had Great Expectations for Victor and Jayleen. They where just the perfect couple, easy going, good jobs, good looking, and two really nice people in their own right. Jayleen had an affair and that was the end of that.

I had Great Expectations for the REM concert. But they decided to play the most catatonic, narcissistic pile of drivvel and that was the end of that.

Micheal Stipe you dork, instead of writing anti-war ditties intended to send all those marines into coma, why not look in your own back yard? You knew it was the first time any of us had seen you, so play all the killer tracks we had paid 260 bucks to hear! But no, Mr Burns had to push his latest narcoleptic cd down our gaping, drooling mouths. For only a hundred bucks more you could have gotten into the most gigantic golden circle this side of the sun, where they must have had oxygen tanks on hand to resuscitate the more affluent fans..

Micheals a dork cos he did it for money, hence the saying Never trust a Goth.
Jayleen however did it for love, hence the saying Never Ever trust a Goth.
But I know she did it for love cos she married the guy and had his child. You can check for yourself on page four of the new People magazine, she looks quite content actually. Like she's thinking "Ha, and they laughed at me when i said the REM concert would be crap.."

An Excellent Idea

2005-03-02T04:53:00.000-08:00

I'm halfway through a book called 'A Short History of Everything' by Bill Bryson, its just a great read, I'll lend it to you when i'm done. Its about everything. Well, as much of Everything as you can fit into four hundred and fifty two pages. Mostly its about people: the scientists, politicians, poets, artists, whatever, that changed the course of our everything. Now I've read similar books, and whenever I read books about the people that shaped the world i live in, two things strike me:
1) Being really fucking clever seemed alot more attractive back then.
2) I want to start a club.

Being really clever back then was kind of like what being a rock star is like today. Kids grew up with astronomers and philosophers as their hero's, these where the people that where defining the world they lived in. When men stood up and said the world was round, it shook every foundation ever known. To be blunt, being clever used to be respected, but now I think its frowned upon. The search for knowledge is, I think, a very altruistic endeavour that normally leads to the sharing of its insights and rewards. An ideology opposite to capitalism. An ideology opposite to the endless stream of branding and marketing we're lobotomised with every second of the day. Its fucking wrong, there are geniuses out there that could be curing cancer, but from day one they're told what shoes to wear and what high paying job to get, cos no one else is going to look out for you buddy. Genetic research for Unicef is okay, but its not cool, not as cool as trading stocks on your Nokia 6230i as you cruise through the Seychelles in your Merc SLK. I feel like I'm rambling now, but I can't shake the feeling that if I read a future version of 'A Short History of Everything' one hundred years from now, it'll be the wrong discoveries for the wrong reasons.

And two, I want to start a club. Almost all the folks I read about met up at some or other club, sharing their mutual passion for whatever. I just think it would add so much to life if there was a reason to interact with other people that didn't involve money, a television, or alchohol. I'm not sure exactly what club I'd start, I'm taking suggestions, and who knows, maybe it'll get a mention in Bills next book..
I think its An Excellent Idea.

plight of the flightless

2005-02-14T22:42:00.000-08:00

Sunday lunch with the family, sun shining, awesome food, cell phone off and happily forgotten. The conversation, as it does, turns to gay penguins. Since apparently, somewhere in Germany there is a zoo, in which reside a gym-load of happy gay penguins. They have taken male partners and scorn any advances by the resident females, kind of like a feathered version of Alexander the Great with german accents.

Now the local zookeepers, vexed by the absence of a "Venn Ze Animals Go Gay" chapter in their manuals and the consequent lack of eggs required for reproduction, have turned north for help. They imported a dozen totally fit Finnish penguins, young, pert, lusty specimens on any avian meter, to arouse interest in the rainbow colony. And nothing wrong I must say, having had the pleasure of experiencing some of Finlands finer exports. The gay penguins however, turned their beaks up and stayed faithful to their male lovers. "Sieg!" shouted the german gay community, they could totally identify with the existential crisis endured by their plumed brethren (not to be confused with the eggs-essential crisis endured by their keepers..), and so closed yet another chapter on gay animal rights.

It was a heart warming tale on any accounts, and quite honestly the closest thing to make me feel even slightly fuzzy on Valentines day. I don't know if thats sad or not. Last year I woke up in a french apartment at five in the morning to give my Then-Girlfriend a card and some emotional abuse before she flew around the world on a 747 for a week. She called from Heathrow and we made up, but still, gay penguins just do it for me. Know what I'm sayin??

Things I thought I'd never do

2005-01-31T03:54:00.000-08:00

When I was in primary school my mother would often take me and my older brother to the oriental plaza for the afternoon. In exchange for granting her the personal freedom of curtain shopping, we would be rewarded with some unidentified meat samoosas and an ice cream from Suzie the soft serve queen. It turned out Suzie also peddled LSD from her little ice cream van, but back then it was the ice cream I was interested in. Anyway, it was on one of those days I found myself standing in the main plaza under those huge coloured paper lamps, waiting for my turn to play Elevator Action, quite possibly the greatest arcade game of 84. I was hoping I wouldn't get a high score so I wouldn't have to type my initials (AWB) in, in front of all the black kids.

So while I'm dealing with this racial dilemma, my gaze wanders, then settles, quite horrifically, on the AC/DC 'Back in Black' poster outside the Heavy Metal/Curry n Rice shop. And I'm looking at Angus Young, horns protruding from his satanic cranium and eyes sunk deep as hell in his unholy head, and I'm thinking, 'Well theres something I'll never do..'And I wasn't thinking I was going to superglue some klipspringer antlers on my head or anything, I was just thinking I'd Never Ever Ever get within earshot of such wicked, and obviously dangerous music.

And like many other Things I thought I'd never do, I was proven wrong by Lee Darby my best mate in standard six. Lee moved to Boksburg in standard seven and smoked alot of pot, I used to visit him and it was fun, but my mum said it was too far to drive after a while. Also alot of his new friends scared me. They must have scared other people too because a few of them landed up in an asylum. This was quite consoling as I realised that listening to AC/DC wasn't bad or satanic. Boksburg was. AC/DC just liked scaring kids and kids love to be scared.

Now this is a blog, so I think I'm supposed to tie this into something alot more current in my life? Okay, so come last friday night I'm loving life, hanging with my best mates, one of whom has been away for a whole long time. We're at Cantaloop winning the rowdiest table contest by many a long island tea, and then we're in the car wailing along to Astrid's cd collection, and then.. uhh.. Then its saturday morning and I'm having flashbacks to highschool Guidance class, and Mr Epstein is putting the risks of alcohol abuse into perspective. He's saying if you start blacking out cos you just drank too much booze, then you're in big kak, and I'm sitting there thinking 'Ha! Thats one thing I'd never do!'

Epilogue:
There will always be Things I thought I'd never do, that I actually never will, (never be Liz Hurley's excercise bike seat for example..), but for the rest of my ill-fated assumptions I can only claim naivety and temporary humanity.
For it is better to be just a little human, than it is to live in Boksburg.
Fin.

Being happy with what you've got

2005-01-05T02:53:00.000-08:00

On boxing day one of my friends' brothers and his girlfriend where snorkelling off Phi Phi island. They decided to take the more expensive, but faster, speedboat back to mainland Thailand which wasn't too far away. The other 150 folks who took the ferry where hit an hour later and all passed away, may they rest in peace. He and his girlfriend however continued to snorkel the reef, but it all went a bit manky when 4 metres of water suddenly disappeared and they found themselves next to a capsized speedboat walking amongst coral.The rest plays out like a movie, thats the only way to describe it. Them running past starfish being chased by The Tsunami, him eventually putting her on his shoulders and climbing the beachside cliffs just as the wave hit. The misery this quake brought was terrible, no denying it, but you gotta admit thats one amazing story too.

About the same time I was looking at beds. The King size Simmons Saphire extra length medium firm looked good. It can be awkward sharing a bed with someone you met the previous night through your mutual friend Jose Cuervo, but try doing it sober in front of strangers. Me and the elderly woman spread out beside me where equally impressed with the Simmons. I would like to work in a bed shop one day, its quite intimate.

I played out the two scenarios in my head, there was some unconscious need to: Tidal Waves vs Simmons, True Romance vs American Beauty, Madonna vs Meryl Streep, Life vs ... And then I stopped, saved, sucked from the sinus passages of depression by that little trick thats taken so long to learn: Being happy with what you've got.

And you know what, its true. Theres a time and place for everything, even blue collar capitalistic mediocrity. I've been through a few of my own tsunami's in my time, and yeah it was amazing, but there was no soundtrack in the background, no lighting effects. And only once did I ever sit with a bewildered feeling that what I'd just done was probably one of the most significant things I would ever do. And sometimes the grass is greener on their side cos their loo is leaking poo onto the lawn.
So Being happy with what you've got makes alot of sense right now, this is the first time in five years I've been in one place for very long, and things are good. I've also got another philosophy in case the first stops working, I call it "Being Unhappy with what you've got", just in case you know?

The Best Day Of Food All Year

2004-12-06T07:05:00.000-08:00

Hide your chickens and lock up your daughters.. I am in a frivolous state of euphoria after what, on all accounts, was, The Best Day Of Food All Year!

The Best Day Of Food All Year started quite meekly actually, we spent the previous night at Cantaloop, but got back home at about twelve. I hardly watch telly at all, but there was this rad flick on MNet (which I later found out was called 'Dreamcatchers') so I had to watch till the end. Any scenario where giant slugs crawl out of your ass requires my full attention!
So I woke up on Sunday a bit groggy and glad my ass was slugless, drank a whole lot of water, and made my usual brekkie. Its always fruit, usually an apple and a banana, and then a toasted crumpet with cheese and apricot jam. I hardly ever have tea or coffee in the morning anymore, I met this checkoslovakian skater once on honeymoon who only ate an apple for breakfast and I'd like to be hardcore like him.
So the furthest thing in my mind ever was that today was going to be The Best Day Of Food All Year! so I was stoked when we arrived at Elf's christmas lunch that afternoon. Me and Quinton (my best friend) walked through the door and where instantly offered a slice of the most succulent, tender, goddam tasty rump ever. It was like that ad where the girl goes 'I can't believe its not butter!!'
Elf's friend Neil was braai-master, and tell you what! If preparing meat was like fondling breasts, old Neil would never have a nights rest. A special note here to one of the other guests, Tanya, who stole both me and Quintons hearts, you are an angel. Please forgive my attentiveness of your nipples which seemed harder than my final year maths paper! Respect.
But anyway, for lunch we had a super salad, with such sound ingredients, the usual avo & feta & olives, but the baby corn & brinjals gave it such depth and meaning. Ready buttered slices of freshly baked home made bread emphasised the personal touch, and the standard potato salad held its ground firmly.
But who am I trying to kid huh? The Best Day Of Food All Year wouldn't be The Best Day Of Food All Year if it wasnt for those rump steaks and loin chops that followed. To call it a religeous experience would be to demean it. Crispy where it mattered without being dry, tender as a Paul Coelho novel, chops that could have just fallen off the cow - I couldn't imagine sinking myself into any other loins ever again.
Kudos to Elf and Stewart for supreme organisational skills, and for making it look good!

For pudding Elf magically produced ice cream based cocktails, laced with Tia Maria and cajouled by the finest Smirnoff vodka this side of Murmansk. Include the side order of chocolate tiramisu cake, and we where almost at The Best Day Of Food All Year level already. But I hear what you're saying, "What about the three course Italian adventure in Nigel? What about the cullinary cunninglingus of Nice? What about the shwarma you had at Cresta on Saturday?" And yes, you're right, to make it The Best Day Of Food All Year, there would have to be, Something Even More..

And Something Even More arrived, in the wonderful addition of my friend Quintons new friend/girlfriend? Anna.
Most of you would have heard a faaantastic resturaunt in Melrose Arch called Moyo, well if it wasn't for Anna's mum and her Russian special forces partner, I would never have gone, and yesterday would not have been The Best Day Of Food All Year!
Moyo requires an entire piece dedicated to it to truly do it justice, but suffice to say that its worth the multi-shwarma prices they charge. The Shiraz could have been a meal entirely to its own, but I had a plate of Cig Cig Wat, a kind of african burrito that stands up and says "I'm gonna freak you baby, all night! Damn". I was like Aladdin floating around to 'A whole new world' in the background, except the princess was even better because you could eat her. Not another morsel was needed to make this day The Best Day Of Food All Year, it is one that took its while but was well worth the wait.

I only wish all of you the kind of freakstacy I experienced, with your own The Best Day Of Food All Year
bon apetite

Brave New World

2004-12-02T05:28:00.000-08:00

This is terriffic isn't it?
Blog
BLOG
blOg
B L O G

You know, I could write anything here. I could bring the deepest thoughts in my tiny mind to life! I could change the way people think! I could Start a REVOLUTION!

unfortunately I don't have any original ideas or opinions, damn..