Find The Party - Desmond And The Tutus

(yissis! This was written December 2006! - Nine months ago...enough time to birth a baby, né? Forgive, kittens, twas hiding somewhere in my harddrive archive – can you say that five times fast?! Harddrivearchivehardivearcdrivedarkhivearkdive eeuyaargh!)

*Ahem.*

Kiss on the cheek

(dec 2006)

Last night was a typical Cape Town Summer’s night out. You don’t always find the (right) party by default; it’s usually somebody else’s fault. In this case, many people contributed to my fun. I left the stiff-collared middle-of-the-road (but jamming) yuppy jol at armchair (hey, it takes all types to float a business in this industry, gil’s just doing his job for live music) and found a flood of summery seventeen year olds making the (former) Cool Runnings very happy about their deal with Cobra. There were hoards of homies buzzing about while the fire dancers tickled our short attentions spans with flashes of flame and local fame. Cape Town is living up to its reputation for beautiful women and pretty boys. I didn’t quite know where to look, actually, it was eye-candy-cum-kindergarten - Hip chicks with slim hips, the token would-be beauties with everything hanging out. Sjoe! Like any media mind-washed mêdem, my eyes settled on a tiny creature flaunting it all, sporting little more than a strip of fabric across her punani and a cropped leather jacket over the fresh, desperate skin exposing her honour. She looked lost. I wanted to take her my arms in and give her some undies to put on under her loincloth, and teach her that a woman’s weapons is not her wang – uh - whatsit. But anyway.. Freedom means finding your own boundaries, innit?

So that got old, and I ebbed off to Mercury, which is possibly older than all of us, and seedier. I enjoyed Eat This, Horse (despite their bad hair) and then I really enjoyed Desmond and the Tutus(despite their bad name). Sparing me the crackers and overfull tummy, the tutus brought Christmas to me. They did a dandy job of impersonating kissmiss trees. They came on stage dressed in skinny jeans and stripy tops (~sigh~) and long Hanson hair. (were the Hansons boys or girls? I was never totally convinced either way). The white, twinkling Christmas lights wrapped around their necks sold me completely - I’m sucker for sparkly things and party animals. With the stage lights off, they bopped around beautifully like illuminated robots, their knees knocking together in all the right places, and their heads nodding about in concurrence.

No idle promises from these boys –their noise is easy to enjoy, and they know how to dance, I guess, because they do it their way. It’s happy, it’s hairy, it’s happening.

Oh. And they rival Taxi Violence and The Sleepers with their flyer art…!