Foto Na Dans is

powerful

courageous

inclusive

authentic

rebellious

transcendental

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBDeZzjp8SM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAKacX-UYNk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-OcoN9u1Wk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YG92UUtNkcU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2YXLfESlRI8

Touch. Crouch. Pause. Engage. I am a koeksister.

Dear LEX.

Finally got 3G again. Vodacom se sea cable; I am able.

Ah well. So your doccie. Look, you’re probably all excited about it, I realised that from your one-liner reminder to watch or did I watch or what. But I’m afraid to say that Cosmo was right about you. You all.

I mean, you know I fought fucking hard to get you recognised for what you really offer into the SA music scene and psyche with them, right? You didn’t forget? Me against the media machine, pushing for artistic integrity against the profit-driven, uninformed content producers - little me, my heart full, my words whipping. I gained some ground. But you can’t change public perception alone.

Unless you tell the truth. So, ja. Cosmo was right. when that band-whore, jezebel, said. That you are the princes. The PRINCES.

Only Foto, a band which takes music so seriously, could have the piss taken out of them so seriously. Only Foto could pull it off, tongue in cheek, finger in ass, ass in the air, nose no one knows where. It’s hysterical. It’s necessary. It’s every band’s story. But only this band could pull it off at this time. It’s got an excellent script - never heard so many one–liners away from a bar in my life. and a clever narrative. Story, split, join; story. Faultless, when you say Foto and Dans. As an instrument of hype around your album launch, it’s cleverly restrained – no sounds from new album till last two episodes. Like.like.like.

My crits and confusions (maybe get the director/coffee maker to read and respond. But he must come up with a new insult, now. I’m tired of the old ones.)

We lost Clem – I liked his cameo role – the honorary other. (or, the 3^rd wheel. I mean! ‘Sixth member’). He could’ve really upped the antiquated clown character. Dirkie is dark, yes, but another funny fuck would’ve balanced him out.

We lost Theuns! (But, my turn to ask, “really?” - Has he done a Hunter and gone fishing?)

Pacing . It got too fast too quickly at the end there. Moved into the reunion concept too suddenly, too late (should have scripted it for the fourth episode), didn’t give the audience time to assimilate. Which, in turn, makes the concept a little less believable; I mean, to those who willingly suspend reality online. Tight as it is. Coz you know it’s still the territory of stage and cinema, largely. I would have introduced the reunion at the very beginning of the fourth episode, developed the dialogue around that more slowly, and tied it up to the opening dialogue (ideals, etc). I also would have tied in the lost characters with the extra time this would’ve given me. you. them. us.

Bottom line . I mean. Top note. Ek love dit.

I can’t wait to hear the album. I’m coming over to listen with you. With apple juice.

jezebel

p.s. such sheer, Smokey- blue eyes from the Skype clip in ladyboyland. You weren’t… meditating, were you?!

die (in)vloed

episode 1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBDeZzjp8SM

episode 2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAKacX-UYNk

episode 3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-OcoN9u1Wk

episode 4 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YG92UUtNkcU

episode 5 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2YXLfESlRI8

are you serious? just for the experience?

image : http://www.makeando.co.za/

Two bands, one song. It’s edgy, if you’re smooth. It’s hard, if you’re soft. It’s rock, if you’re pop.

Foto Na Dans has been silent for ages. They do that a lot, have you noticed? In between explosions of incredibly ornaMental magic (and my kittens fart a lot. Because they're Mental)

But now it’s summer, and we're smiling, even if we can’t afford it, and Foto have a new song. Well. half of a new song. Well, no, half of a chorus. And some riffs between beats.

It’s a collaboration which is aiming itself straight at the dans floor, and might well floor detractors of attractive commercial compositions. They'll frown, they'll tap their feet and nod their heads, bemused, because this is the beauty of music - it makes its own rules, and breaks them just as easily.

Here we were thinking Foto were the last of the puritans. Maybe they're the first of the finest to go, 'fuck it, we're going to make this work (financially)'. This collabotrack is, ipso facto, a fascinating contrast to their erstwhile EP, Pantomime Op Herwinbare Klanke, whose evolving narrative placed the band in the league of gentle men who make music for art cinema and theatre. Being a veteran Foto fan, a puritan; i'm bemused, my feet are tapping, my head is nodding and i guess i'm grateful for new track because it's a chance for me to practise a bit of diplomacy. In contrast to the earlier EP, the single Dans Republic is a pointed reminder of Foto's flexibility. in comparison to Foto's other compositions it also highlights the fact that dance music is really rather taut, where classical prog rock is perhaps taught. or untied....

why>? well, check the choon.
verse/chorus/verse/chorus it goes. obvious, you say, that's most music. but it's also much the same on a micro level, and that's its defining (in)difference. Op af op af. High five for a clever chorus - old school and heady and easy, but splicey, too. You’ll spend some time finding just where it moves from on glaise to dee taal. Don't think too hard, just dans - it’s all in the details. Not that I can quite trace Le Roi in those details, and is it really Foto if all you've got is the biting grind of that guitar? Also, can't say I think much of the derivative melodies. There are moments where it feels like a pastiche of recycled classic pop refrains and moments where that doesn't matter because it's a banging ballad. If they are subconscious cut & pastes, they blend well, and that's where the foot tapping head nodding comes in. But maybe I'm wrong, maybe the formula of easy sound is simply used so universally that after a while all dance songs sounds the same. Still, there are definite references to top forty hits from our t(w)eens...and

it’s edgy, if you’re smooth. It’s hard, if you’re soft. It’s rock, if you’re pop. But the bottom line is that it is a fine, bilingual, cross-genre fusion, and there aren’t many musicians who can mix the delightful simplicity of dance music with the darkness of cathedral rock without also making a mess. Instead, Flash Republic and Foto have made a summer club and compilation hit, and I’m sure TeeJay is taking notes. I'm proud of both bands for standing up and facing the music in a gutsy display of commercially viable sonic diversity. Have both parties put their best foot forward or have they put their foot in it? I'll love dancing to it because it has a history and a future, because it's catchy and I can. But I'm not necessarily going to buy it. Oh wait! they anticipated that. It's available free for download.

http://www.dansrepublic.co.za/page2.html

Boof boof boof boof.

Take the chance.

AfriDans.

p.s. there is a huge irony in the line 'ek wil sing in Afrikaans'. But i guess only Anglo-Saxon fan/atics of an Afrikaans language band will smile along with me on that one.

fokken dans

last friday was a treat. foto na dans @ my favourite outdoor stage @ klein libertas (before it was broken into and trashed), then the lua union @ a revamped indoor stage @ Kunskafee (that was after arriving at Corner Bar because i'm dyslexic and forgetful, and finding bergies howling and bludgeoning each other while paramedics tried to patch them up). On either end of the scale of experience, this was a night that began and ended with my two favourite bands. (sorry taxi; my cock fell off after too many rock-outs). of course i might be talking about either end of the scale of MY emotional experience, or of their professional experience, and you wouldn't know any better (or would you? there's a comments box below...) i probably mean both; i'm a freelancer, we wield the world while it works us over - we're always playing and always working. (imagine when i get a blackberry, then i'm going to write stories in my sleep!)

I've already waffled about lua (http://sonicsynapse.blogspot.com/2009/10/lua-union-ethereal-mix.html) , about what struck me about them that night. but foto is another story. especially when you find yourself almost interrogated about your enthusiasm for their music. this bears some explanation, i guess. people, most often, are as extreme as i am about foto, either in agreement or in vehement confusion about what it is they're trying to do. The most frequent disagreement i hear is one that simply saddens me, because really, it's about personal taste, and no one can change that. 'ya, um, rocking music, but i don't get the guy's voice.'

no? wow. ok, i get people being a bit thrown by the (iwillnotusethewordoperatic) singular, cathedralesque vocals - it's not quite an amy lee wail (whale?), and it's not quite a Seething scream. but rock has other realms, you know, and best we open up to them as the world opens up to us... there are realms more subtle and superior than the ones going crashboombang and passing pop cock off as interesting or important. ag. i mean rock. (or rocks! get your rocks off with your socks off, georgie porjy! and kiss berlin for me).

i get le-roi's voice. it gets me, in all the big places. like my heart. and my head. and my hope. and i guess if it doesn't sit right with you, there are only two ways to address it -

1. don't bother

2. think of it like a fine, old whiskey, or a strange new wine - get to know it

but what people don't say most often is what is the most important element of them being a brilliant live act. They are consistent. Humble and unholy on stage, nice to the sound engineer FROM the stage, full power, full focus, full blast. a quality act like no other i've seen and heard and felt in ZA.

(and they understand the power of a good light rig, too. a live show is not, after all, just an aural experience . it is love in action, and every sense is involved.)

involve your senses, and get beyond them...

and stop questioning yourself.

the answer is in your blood.

which is in your bones.

which let your body.

fokken

dans.

The Lua Union - an ethereal mix

Unlike a beer boep, balance in a band is not something affected by training or straining. It's personal, it's professional, and it's mystical.

Balance in a band is not something that can easily be pinpointed, either. I'm talking about that place where things work - the x-factor that gets things going. It may not be anything tangible, this mix of personal relationships, inspiration and hard work, but it reveals itself in the mix, on the stage, and behind the scenes.

With the imminent release of an evidently synergistic single with Flash Republic, the members of Foto Na Dans are starting to enjoy a certain 'same page'ness, making the build-up to their second album release in Feburary 2010 rather phat. The Lua Union, it seems, was born with this balance.

The Lua Union doesn't sound like a band that have only been playing for a little under eleven months. Yes, its members are still settling into their onstage skin; yes, lead vocalist Dean hasn't been a frontman for very long; and yes, bassist Jonathan (who prefers the mandolin) hasn't been in the country for very long, either. But they strike you neither as first timers, nor as amateurs. In effect, they're not really first timers or amateurs at all, at least not in a 'My First Guitar' kind of way though i'm sure some of them still insist on playing theirs. Their drummer, Francios, is a former Springbok Nude Girl. Their lead guitarist, Lucas, is the drummer of The increasingly Pretty Blue Guns. Still, previous experience is only one element in the synergy of a collective sound and it certainly isn't a guarantee of good music (just as four accomplished musos might not necessarily produce good material together). There's something else that makes a band work interpersonally and musically, something that makes it manageable and magical. That something is a mystical balance of bodies, minds and souls that lets others swallow the songs whole, and The Lua Union is a great example. Break it down, jezebel...

Drummer Francios is unphased - the root, the rhythm. Calm and warm, he keeps time with increasing sensitivity to the complexity in the songs, and syncopates its overall sound with sublime simplicity. Bassist Jonathan keeps the troubled artist cliché at bay with taut mood swings and tight strings; he is, in turn, inspired or indifferent, and by turns brilliant or bad (and i mean bad in the best sense), throwing his weight around like he doesn't have to hang on to poles when the South Easter blows. Dean is the dirty clown - bewhiskered and bewhiskeyed, he's inhumanly at ease on stage (it's almost like he doesn't realise he's on stage at all), and his bassy vocals are bottomless and his banter between songs an extenstion of his tigger spirit. While none of his characteristics seem to match each other, his velskoene and dress shirt often do. It's good for a front man to be a bit of a maverick, methinks; keeps 'em guessing. The one who keeps 'em guessing the most is the one with the least to say and hopefully lot more to sing in the near future. Lucas is the introvert, the essence, the intensity of The Lua Union. Dreamy yet undivided, his is a subtle stage presence that often surprises those who bother to work out who's doing what in a song. Watch those fingers fly, watch the room invert. If you catch his eye between shy golden locks rocking during a set, just smile - he'll get it... because he's got it. Together, these musicans are a torrent of melody that moves the cynical to joy, the criminal to change, and the minimal to main. Last night they were superb under Kunskafee's a new look and lights (and somehow still kak sound rig.)

You could feel it far beyond the front row - all four settled right into the rhythm despite a very late and undeservedly unprofessional sound check (Kunskafee, are your systems in check?). Despite that, it was pure sound channelled through flesh and blood and bone. Their unusual vocal harmonies swell with the same mood and intensity as the soaring, snapping strings do. The seamless, invisible bass blends in beautifully, backing everything, giving it substance you can't see, and the drums are intelligent enough to spar with the melodic attacks and crashes, but never beat them. Overall it's beautiful, powerful, poignant stuff that either stops you in your tracks or rips them right out righteously.

"They often remind me of Radiohead," yelled Adam Innuendo during a swell and swoosh from the guitars. I suspect Adam wasn't comparing The Lua Union to Radiohead aurally, per se, but talking about an overall dexterity and diversity; a demeanour, rather than a musical aesthetic. The next song came on, and I leaned over and yelled back at him cockily "but they don't remind you of Radiohead NOW." That's the thing about The Lua Union - their riffs and rises often recall some or other expert band, but their compositions sound nothing at all like anyone else. This is what has me so excited about them. God knows what or where it is, but they've got the muse.

They've also got the musicality and the unaffected magic to make it.

taste it

http://www.channel24.co.za/Content/Music/Player/760/be57331e4162494ea1c2e202874b626c/23-04-2009-11-01/Lua_Union_-_A_Thousand_Lights_

touch it

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=61743986998

and tell others about it

(want more? ask nicely)

24 seconds

We’re sitting in the lounge. I put on a song – a favourite of mine. Subtle, sometimes, then powerful. Its intro is a triple of single electric strings backed by a blended bass line. Then vocals, clear and hollow, and instantly it’s “no!” from a friend, “no, no, no.”

“What, nie Afrikaans nie?” I ask, realising this is not about the song.

“NIE.” She replies without looking up. But she doesn’t know the track, the band, the genre, or my taste in music. She’s been enjoying some of the other selections so far.

It makes me wonder about the power of our fathers’ prejudice and how it can get in the way of our joy.

The next day. The other side of the coin. Sitting in the office this time. My colleague presses play and sings along. It's Mr. Cat & The Jackal. Mr. Cat & The Jackal is white, Afrikaans and male; my colleague is not.

It makes me hope that we've learnt something from our brothers.

you two look so good together

Contrary to the claims (or, denials, rather) of alcoholics and addicts at large, it’s not a clean line or a dirty cocktail that lights the night.

Especially when the creeping cold glues us to our couches. And even though Cape Town has come home from the contentious and much coveted SAMAs  with no less than a dozen of them for the Mother city mantelpiece, fireplaces and feather duvets have suddenly become hot property (quite literally).  So despite a slightly more dashing public image, live local music may have to work a little more cleverly to get attention this season, rather than harder. (It’s hard enough, after all, to get a good song circulating beyond a Facebook fan page player.)

A good gig takes a good band; but a great gig takes a great combination. Get the setting, the sound and the souls right, and you have a great night on your hands. If your heart is holed up like most people’s hearths were until last week, try a little pairing up this season. I’m talking musical coupling, yeah? Sorry to say, but co-dependency isn’t healthy any other way.

This Friday while the faithful walk to their holy houses in the rain, and the unfaithful walk to their unholy houses in the rain, Cape Town is cutting it clean with some of the finest combinations since Lindt got balls. Take a sniff of

Joshua Grierson and Mr. Cat And The Jackal – @Dorp Straat Teater. heart strains and pirate stains tumbling over each other unapologetically.  (Bonus - the venue is as quaint and cosy as its performers are not).

 The Sleepers and Foto Na Dans @ ZULA. Dark rock and arte rock to revive the listless and ground the restless. Think contemplative and incendiary. Think sirens and soul mates. Think Le-Roi and Sy (see pic above) No, don’t think. You won’t need to.  

 And if you’re just in it for the party, and you like it in the Ass   (embly), you’re still in the right city. Pull in (ahem) to Our petal ploys (ag, boys), Magic of Pegasus  - who may or may not be taking the piss (watch this space)  .  As Friday unfurls, they will pull on their spandex and flex their skinny screams to deliver you a bubble bath of pseudo-electro cum glam cock sexiness (or is that pseudo-sexiness? Or Speedo testiness? You’ll never know if you don’t get down there. ahemagain). Next to their cotton candy tonguing cheekiness, bruise your heartbeats on the muddy cuts and cutting chords of Tigerstrike - electro energy; analogue emotion. Even if you don’t like it, you’ll probably dance to it.

Sadly, most of us now know that Nothing is no more. Mama Know Nothing, yes? No.  The untimely undoing of the city’s best looking (there, I finally said it) folk-funk-blues-babes (the boys too), means that there is one hot coupling that won’t happen. Ever.  I wanted guns and mamas, pretty nothings, swinging blues, slow bleeding fusion. But no, all we have to look forward to now is the official release of the dirty post mortem. There’s a story behind it, of course, and I’ll be telling my version of it shortly. But beauty (and brilliant shooting) aside,  substitutes will never suffice the real thing, so I guess I’m just going to have to get over becoming an aural orphan of the Mamas, and keep gunning for the Guns. (Speaking of which, have you joined the union yet?) That’s hotstix ma’Lucas’s not-so-little side project.  Listen a little here , you might like it.

It's sobering that in the midst of mourning, the music goes on. We’ve lost the lovelies, but they’ll come up with a new combination, no doubt. We’re still very lucky to be complaining about some of the sorts of couplings that come about on a Friday night, even if other ones disintegrate like powder.

 

Foto Na Dans : a raw retrospective

[photograph taken by alex fourie]

a lens on foto
na dans

wow. i'm listening to le roi nel singing soldaatvolk off Foto Na Dan's very first EP. they didn't even title it, and it's not listed in their discography. and while we all come from somewhere, not all of us can call our roots an absolute colletor's item. Foto Na Dans might not agree with me, but this is one of them. a genuine gem.

their musical evolution is next to naked in the four tracks replete with rudimentary production and raw passion. it maps out the flow of their finesse from a sometimes stuttering start stitched with talent and trouble to a synthesis that simplifies the soul. it has solid bass lines. humid, enthusiastic drums still acquiring the art of silence and still witless to the fact that rushing doesn't get you where you want to go. finger licking strings, delicate, driven. trumpet slides and soars. ordinary electro keys? you better believe it - before they refined those trips and trills, before they made them a subtle signiture.

The slightly sarcstic, amper pastiche 'Elelktro' sounds like nothing you'd naturally ascribe to Foto now, but when you follow it with their 2007 debut Intervensie or 2008 EP, Pantomime Op Herwinbare Klanke, you can't help but hear history howl. so don't nobody tell me gorgeous, important, unusual things can't come from upstart indie ever again. from big ideas and small beginings comes beautiful things. it's been a long stretch from sindroom to slottoneel.

These days we know they've found the flow. we didn't know that they didn't always have it. (the blindness of those not burdened by the boon of music making, perhaps?) At its core and completion, Foto Na Dans offers a solid sound that they continue to disrupt with interrogative integrity. it's this that makes them one my favourite melodic vortices. their sound is synergised; they've found their formula, and they grow and change with it every time they play. and from these first grooves on the record, the one who's grown the most is the one i love the most on stage. Le roi. the voice of/ the face of/ the foto na dans of his own spiritual unfolding.

in this original recording for Soldaatvolk he sounds almost adolescent. he uses lazy, round vowels and thick exigencies instead of the articulate progressions we know now. a sudden suprise is hearing his vocal chords steeped in cathartic hollers, raw growls and grating snaps. imagine if he'd gone retro rock on us! or punk. there would be no foto na dans. and no dans, either.

his diction and elocution have evolved aeons between that EP and their debut album. since i first heard Foto Na Dans at their Mercury launch at the end of 2007, i've been in helpless awe of his exquisite ennunciation and that effortless integration of emotion, breath and energy on stage. he takes the core emotion in the compositions and the power in their lyrics and melodies to another level. his voice evokes things i can't find poetry for.

of course, it's not effortless. there have been times when he's had to hold his tongue to heal. he's given his voice professional workouts. it's nice to know that hard work, training, and quality tools can pull the sacred out of the seed. the lesson is love what you love, even if nobody else does. and believe in yourself.

Foto Na Dans regularly tour the country in a dedicated effort to reach people across the land. at the time of typing, they're sitting with 75 souls less than 7000 on their Facbook fanpage. tell me that's not epic for a band from Belville that isn't even a toddler yet.

keep growing gentle men. you are gold.

p.s. update. 3 days later. 3 away from seven thousand on the Face (http://www.facebook.com/inbox/?ref=mb#/pages/Foto-Na-Dans/19523939136?ref=ts )(which reminds me that Rhythm Records have pointed out that this band's fans and CD sales rise relative to every show and tour of theirs. )

welcome home, Foto!

oppi koppi oh oh eight

Dust, dassies and dirty musicians

Dear darling dassies and elephants and rockers and sycophants and... Well, you know who you are…

Yissis! But we’re brilliant when we’re in the Highveld. We drove up in droves, set up camp under thorn trees, and hardly slept. That’s the royal we, mind you – Mordor, music and media citizens alike. We washed under taps (well, almost) or didn’t wash at all, got trashed, littered like good, middle-class majority whites, soaked ourselves in sound and sun, and sang together. The best one- liner I heard has got to be the most ubiquitous, too –

Oppi

Koppi!

(And that includes ‘we like your ass’ from a band I like. Is it because I’m black?)

En route to Oppi

The magic started in the car on the way. My mate Bastion doesn’t like his beauty sleep, and spent the night before the trek mixing mix tapes for the drive from Jozi to dassieville. We were listening to a Dylan classic that Georgia governor, Jimmy Carter, ostensibly based his knowledge of agricultural labour theory and reform on(It sounded like Johnny Cash on a happy day). Exactly as we were harmonizing the chorus lines about brothers and sisters and hardworking misters, we drove past the song’s namesake. I kid you not. Maggie’s Farm. That was us, whistling out the window at the high speed of forty kilometers per hour in the Oppi koppi Q, criss-crossing freeways out of Joburg in an attempt to get there faster. It failed, of course, but we did overtake the same people seven times!. How did we know they were dassies too? There’s something about pillows and overlywrapped packet packages and joints squashed up against windows pressed with too many people and their interesting hairstyles that’s such a giveaway on the not-so-open, still-pretty-urban road. Thing is, we were wondering about that not-to-scale map, and the fact that Jozi never seems to end! (well, it IS six thousand square kilometers, after all. And if that daunts you, console yourself with the fact that it’s also a veritable garden, what with its green belt being one of the biggest in an urban setting in the world. Not that it’s so green this time of year.) Anyway, that was when Oppi bit. Big time.

And it was my first time. Also I’m impressionable. AND I’m a band whore according to cokeheads. Why, then, do I only give it seven out of ten? The line-up was wicked and the showers were warm (at 7 am, they were; ask Shower Boy!) I’ll tell you why. Because I’ve rocked the socks off the Daisies in the Kouebokkeveld (with a vaguely adequate line-up) and even fell in love there, and I’ve showered naked with boys and girls together at Bombomella (Israel, the unholy land) and even fell on my face there, and both fests involved preplanning so exact that the carbon footprint was covered before it was even made, and the pumpkin plants were flowering all over the stalls when the fans arrived. Respectively. A great festival takes care of all angles – production, music, its party animals, and the poephols. Luckily Oppi had few of the latter, but it lacked a lot when it came to wires and tummy wares.

It seemed a fest of howyousay, niche niceties. The media tent was utterly wicked, facilitating a relaxed, professional space for media and musicians to meet and greet, talk shop, talk shit, and get the shot and then have some shots (free bar; essential). Only a few halfwit beginner ‘critics’ abused the good intentions of the Levi’s Original Music Magazine slash 24 dot com slash Speakerbox team, and were duly told where to put their pouting, potty mouths and misplaced, malignant intentions. Amen to gentle men. Silver bullets belong in barrels.

The media area was also the spot from which UJFM became the early morning wake-up call to those who weren’t already woken by the freezing cold, neighbouring beats, or caterwauling cretins who refused to put the night before to bed. I wasn’t impressed by the DJs, their half-baked play lists (hello? This is SA, 2008, not somewhere first world, 1999) or their cheery promptitude (well, we’ll make it a word, just for today), but I was delighted that there was constant commentary around the whole fest that made for a family vibe. Guess they were right about what you can and can’t choose...

That choice thing again became an issue (sigh. We have such issues with it here, have you noticed? First not enough of us had it, now all of us have it and we don’t know what to do with it so we let bigshots tell us what to do with carrots and showers instead while they don't fix the power crisis, and we use condoms to carry water…) The line-up was wicked, I thought. Representative enough to please people whose tastes stretch beyond the borders of rock, but selective enough to choose more or less decent acts within the most popular genre bracket. i wished bands like The Sleepers and our soon to be overseas Josh Grierson were included for kudos. The band wish list voted by you (which, btw, it turns out the original winner declined to be part of because what they offered him and his peeps to play wouldn’t have covered their travel costs there and back) was lame. It sounded like noise, from start to finish. Oh, I lie; Jurgemeister was almost decent, belting out hardhat heaviness that broke the Thursday ice. But Friday and Saturday made up for it with so much choice, a wise music lover was hard-pressed to decide. I focused on bands I hadn’t seen, bands I love and must always see, and getting enough sleep to write about the bands my editor thought I should see (he was, for the most part, right, but I will never forgive him for making me miss out on hotstix). Reviews on levis here:

Overall (levis version)

http://www.levi.co.za/musicmag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=769

Dave Ferguson

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=737

foto na dans

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=734

kidofdoom

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=733

kwani experience

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=732

zebra & giraffe

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=731

josie field

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=724

fire through the window

http://www.levi.co.za/MusicMag/Category/Detail/Detail.aspx?ID=736

As you can see, I wasn’t bowled over by everyone, but that’s more or less the way it goes, isn’t it? If we all liked the same stuff, we wouldn’t go to music festivals, would we? Or would we?

And was it my imagination or were audiences quiet? No, wait, for the purposes of watookal, let’s use a diplomatic word like… meditative… or contemplative… or idunno, introspective. (diplomacy is my new hobby, and I’m bad at hobbies) Oppi is not the time for introspection, I promise you! Even the former drummer of a famous up-and-coming act and the former lover of the same act were wise enough not to dwell on things too much during the dusty daze. Days. Daze. And no, I’m not going to tell you who they are. I’m not in it for the story, you realize? (that one’s for you, Mr 13 :31) Perhaps we’re still getting used to the idea of freedom of expression, and it takes more than a day or two of liquor and sun and ice to crack our lekker, lacquered shells? There’s hope yet, to be sure, but it feels like the music (re)public is a little intimidated? Come on guys, they’re doing this for you!

Toplist

Most spectacular Kidofdoom

Most anticipated foto na dans

Most rewarding josie field (for musical growth)

Most surprising new academics (finally a band to dance to, and break your shoes instead of your neck)

Most rock & roll taxi violence

Most refreshing voodoo child

Most underrated HoneyB (our favourite black, mid-tempo House DJ!)

Most kak idontknow, I don’t wager over the contenders, I just block my ears.

Speaking of wagers, I won my first game of poker ever with a lot of help from my friends (well, back then before Saigon's 'calamari' and duck curry poisoning I still thought I had some), and while everyone covered sharp teeth with sweetly smiling lips and said nice things like beginners luck (you know, like it's charity or something), I realized that gambling and intuition have a lot in common. As do acting and winning! I went shopping with the cash. Of course. I mean, what else do those of my ilk do – work? As if. A baby blue dress for an open blind. Not bad for an Oppi virgin!

Besides the juicy stories fed me by the rotten social grapevine that is skinder and kakpraat, there were a lot of GOOD one-liners and stories, and some were captured here : http://www.24.com/entertainment/default.aspx?p=feature&i=992161

(you’ll recognize yours truly even if you haven’t had the pleasure…)

oh! and honourable mention to the most fascinating stranger (who also packs a wicked punch in her interviews, and gets renowned egomaniacs to actually SAY the bullshit they believe about their band's music)

Michelle Marais, SA Tunes

Sound is important, and it’s not easy to get right at a fest because of tight schedules and high band turnovers. So you might’ve thought that after ten years, Oppi would’ve sorted that out, chosen the best sound guys they could afford, and had enough technicians on hand to fix faults. They didn’t, at the smaller stages. Repeatedly. I’m not informed enough to know whose fault it is, but as I’ve heard most of the acts I saw in various other venues before, I know that it was either the sound guys or the sound systems. And that is simply not good enough. Luckily the big stage was packed with enough power to blow up a small town, and put its energy to good use for acts like Taxing Violets, The two twos, Aching etc.

Food was kak. Crap. Horrible. Who eats fast food 24/7? Come on. Sort it out. And get more stalls, too.

The only reason I didn’t kill the loudmouths who played bad music at the break of dawn was that I was working, and so I was up before them. But know that you are the spawn of Satan’s spoof and next year I will hose you down with honey for the ants to come and eat to your bones.

While I’m ranting, here’s a brief list of What NOT to do at Oppi :

Ø Erect a tent on top of someone else’s unless of course you want them to move away, in which case it worked. If you arrive in the pitch dark and can’t see, have the human decency to feel about a bit with your hands; it’s probably the only time you’ll be allowed to, anyway.

Ø Take pictures of people butt naked if they happen to forget they’re in public while they’re changing on their doorstep. It’s illegal. For you, and them. Only they can sue you, and all you can get out of them is a little public embarrassment.

Ø Ask for drugs from your bosses, and your boss’s boss.

Ø Walk barefoot. Get on someone’s shoulders.

Ø Forget your sunscreen. It may not be as sexy as they make it out to be, but Oppi is HOT.

Absolute chaos is an oxymoron, and there were lots of those at the fest, though nobody was violent, and moon bags left in the middle of the road to seduce recovering thieves were ignored until their hung-over owners crawled back to them again. By day three (or is it four?) faces were grubby, eyes were bloodshot, and asthmatics were sick of wearing bibs around their noses and mouths just to be able to breathe. My heartfelt empathies; I’m glad that my snot is back to its normal disgusting colour. And speaking of mementos and memories, all I came back with were two t shirts and lots of lovely band buttons, all of which I’ll wear with pride. Of course, the Foto Na Dans EP “Pantomime Op Herwinbare Klanke” isn’t a memento, it’s a trophy. I got it at Oppi, ; you can get yours at Rhythm Records.

Jezebel

p.s. going away for a bit had the uncanny effect of making me see Cape Town with new, more appreciative eyes. (is that possible? Ok, yes, its winters SUCK) back in Jozi waiting for Kulula to wake up or go to sleep or whatever it is it needs to do before I can come and polish my tush on its faux leather, lime seats, I’m thinking, god, I couldn’t live here. I need reference points – something to remind me of forever (mountains, and the high, crystal skies), something to remind me of finity (the oceans, effectively drowning our sorrows and we like to think our carbon footprints (or is it the other way round?)). As the crime capital of various statistical analyses, it doesn’t seem like the wisest place in the world to let irritating realities like energy limits plunge whole roads into darkness, but truth hurts. This might be the most developed metropolis in Africa, and the business capital of SA, but it lacks a lot. I’m back to the Mother city, secure in the insight that we really have a blessed lifestyle. And the majority of good music, too!

Now, if we could just play nicely together in this little fishing village, it would be unbeatable. Having said that, this is the very last time I am going to mention the lowQ muso who has decided to tell nasty lies about me in some kind of stupid attempt to bolster his ego. Worst was that he spread his seed to bigmouths with small brains whose main job, it seems, is to encourage gratuitous rudeness and unfounded aggression (and that’s coming from a girl? Sies) I would like to remind him that he was once in exactly the same position as he has put me in now (scuse the pun), and I treated him with respect and sincerity. And btw, bru, AWOL means Absent Without Leave, and as far as I know, you don’t miss a beat? Well, you’re gonna miss me.

So! Been there, got the t-shirt, see you at Daisies!