The Faces of Beard

This post is dedicated to the many facinating faces that Beard of The Car Boot Vendors manages to pull

If I had the energy I would give these expressions witty captions, but after being stabbed 45 times with a needle I am not in the best of moods. But feel free to do so if you wish.

The Brother Moves On

I recently got roped, by an old varsity acquaintance, into playing for The Brother Moves On. A multi piece orgasmic fusion of stuff. I really don't know how to describe the sound. Its got some township grooves, with a lot of funk. A little bit of spice and a shit load of attitude. It's soul music. And I'm diggin' it. I played my first show with them last night. At the WITS freshers party. It was rock n roll to say the least. But in the shit fucked out kinda way.

http://www.myspace.com/thebrothermoveson

The brother moves on intervention at Workers Museum Newtown -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePYMXlRhAiE&NR=1
The brother moves on intervention at the Botannical Gardens
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_C0QLalmBU

We got there at four, well I got there at four. Checked up with the sound engineer to see if I needed a bass amp. I didn't. The rest of the band handed rocked up yet. The whole parking lot where the event was being held was pretty dead. So I went for a mission around campus, and ended up at the PIG (the post grad club, in essence: the bar where post graduate students go to drink and debate non-essential worldly issues - such as is this beer bottle green or am I drunk, and is this a matter of subjectivity?) where I found my band mates. Boozing. Definitely my kind of band. Zwash has a black eye from the night before. He got beat up by bouncer at Rats, apparently it was BJ's fault, but who knows. So we hit the bottle a bit, Zwash and I head off to hunt some weasels. Get back to the others, head to BJ's car, drink some rum and dutifully head to the stage for sound check. We're supposed to be on at 6. It's 5pm and the stage tech isn't ready for us. Typical, neh?

So, after about an hour of line-checking the sound is sounding pretty decent. Though of the many monitors I didn't get a very well working one, so no audible bass for me. It makes my forearms cramp. And it's not a pleasant feeling.

The next mission is getting wristbands for the band members, the event organiser assured us she gave them all to Lily. The one's Lily did have she'd given to the band, but we were still a few short. With much wrangling we eventually got a few more out of her. And I missioned off out the designated area to fetch my jacket. Coming back in was another mission all together. My wrist band had been attached rather loosely, just incase we had to sneak someone in. And playing with tags is a bi-atch sometimes. They just get irritating. I'm not one (lately) for wearing things on my wrists. So the irate bouncer gave me shit about the looseness of my wristband, said I'd got it from someone else, wouldn't let me through and then tried to confiscate my bottle of rum. There was only a few shpots left in it, so I downed the rest of the bottle. This was about the same point as our visual fx guru rocked up, wrapped in wreaths of red and white bunting tape. He speaks the language, and manages to get me out of shit and back into the venue.

We head to the stage, the time has come to jam. The venue's filled up a bit by this point. Lots of drunk, and soon to be drunk first years. We start the set. The sound on stage has gone from decent to crap. But we play through it anyway, and get into the vibe. All's going well till half way through our second number, something goes wrong with the drum kit, I think it was the bass peddle, but I'm not quite sure. We get over that hiccup and get to our fifth song, and are cut out half way through, the dj just kicking in some house beats. We get off the stage, and the organiser gives us a stern talking to, which went something like "Pack up your stuff and leave." We were all mighty confused at this point. And Siya (our lead vocalist and manager) starts arguing the odds. Apparently BJ, our dj had been told to cut the set, but instead of obliging had stuck his tongue in his check and made vulgar blow job gestures. So they cut us mid set. What a bunch of prudes. They start the event late, and expect us to cut our set short because they can't manage themselves. On top of this all they weren't even paying us, even though they were charging 70 bucks entrance at the door. What a load of bull.

I ended up at the bass line a little later, watching Tumi and the Volume, Tidal Waves and aKing. This show I think was rather badly advertised, it was pretty dead. And it made me realise that even the best of performers and bands have shite shows too, where the crowds dead and the sound just doesn't cut it. It's the way of the music industry..

It's all about feeling

Meaty One is passed out on the couch. It's 3am and we're sharing songs in my family room.
"It's cool to share songs," says Skollie
"Since we're sharing songs, I'll share a song. It's about my neighbour who killed himself by his pool. He stole from a lot of people. He was a lawyer. I lived next door to him my whole life." And Beard sang us a story. And I felt it. Fingers playing no more than four picked chords.
 It's all about feeling.

 The Car Boot Vendors have been on tour in Jozi and Pretoria for the past week, well the ultimate hobo mission with shows in between, had the fun of having them on my couches/floor for a few nights.

Love First, Whiskey Later

Bad things happen in threes. Its a proven fact. Luckily those bad things happen in the first few hours of our trip to Thornfest. Incident one: Clint leaves work to pick up Stu and I, he crashes his car.. Luckily the driver of the other car went to high school with him. Incident two: After missioning from Linden to Benoni to pick up Stu we finally hit the road.. And Traffic.. Then end up well and truly lost somewhere in Randfontien. Don't ask where that is I don't know.

Asking for directions.. They didn't help

                                  Drunk and getting drunker.. (this was a good thing.. you'll see why)

Incident three: Now there's a back story to be told here. Thornfest screwed a lot of bands over last year. Mine (The Death Valley Blues Band) included. How? They didn't pay any of the bands who played the Standfirm Stage, except the Slashdogs, who demanded their cash before getting on stage. Smart move, especially when the first line of the festival contract states that Thornfest shall not be held liable for any breach of this contract.. Or something to that effect. So we boycotted and slandered their name and were generally pissed off. Most of the bands who played last year refused to play this year. We don't hold anything against those bands who did. But that is the story. I wasn't planning on going for these reasons. But after a week indoors, recovering from two months of epic party chaos and roadtrippin' I started getting the itchy party feet again. And Mostert and a few other mates had snuck in the night before, assuring me the electric fences weren't on.. I felt the need to get my own back.. Karma's a bitch sometimes. So we rock up to Thornfest. Slightly drunk, very stoned. And head for the furthest off part of the fence we can find from the entrance. Planning sneaky ninja maneuvers to jump over. I touch the fence, break the circuit, put both hands on.. And suddenly my body was spasming, and I'm thinking fuck I'm going to be fried to death on this fucking fence and I can't let go. Complete out of body experience, saw myself in fuzzy black and orange lines. Clinton was pissing at the time. Stu, initially thinking I was just lame at climbing fences didn't quite figure what was going on. But when he did he dutifully pulled me off the fence. How long I was stuck there I don"t know. Stu reckons about 30 seconds. Luckily I was quite drunk at this point, think that helped. Two lessons learnt: 1) Never trust Mostert 2) Check fences properly before trying to jump them. I blame myself for this incident. But lesson learnt, and a little bit of experience gained. What do I have to show for it? A couple of minor burns on my fingers and a very fucked up thumb. The medic told me I could've shattered my hands, so I got off lucky. And went on to have a rather epic weekend... 

Mostert and his 'umbrella' 

Vinny from the Vendetta Cartel, probably one of the tightest shows I've seen them play

 Martin Rocka and the Sickshop, legends of the underground. Martin's stage presence never fails to keep me captivated

View from Clint's car (our home for the weekend)

'Stay alive don't drink drunk' - I scrawled this piece on this very door when the venue was still being used for Lucky Fish, that was two or three years ago.

Clint chillin, best place ever to get out of the noise and wind

Some passed out dude

Tina, Stu and Justin - Love is in the air

Justin from the Car Boot Vendors currently on tour promoting their new EP "The Flop"

Jose can like to swim

 Vicky Child taking a break from running a food stall

Erabus- these guys really impressed me, some epic metal jazz breakdowns

Christene from Pistolwhip 45

"Come closer, I know you want to come closer"

 Stuart Winsper: Legend: I owe you my hands right now

 Beard of the Car Boot Vendors, stocking up before we went on a rather fun but unsuccessful busking mission

Ross of the Car Boot Vendors. Bustin' out in the beer tent

Matt 'n Justin jammin

 Mike and Gene of the Sunday Punchers, getting loose

Me, Gene 'n Clint, no idea what was happening here. Gene looks gangsta though

 Mike inna box

Good times, good friends

 Jay Kopping of Shots Fired and Antonie in the background (epic bass player)

This line was the weekend "Love first, whisky later." Thank you my friends for looking after me, and feeding me whiskey.

Mostert after jumping the fence and going to jam on stage to Wonderboom (who still kick ass after many year. I remember bouncing to these guys when I was 15, brought back a whole load of good memories, pity most of the festival didn't agree with me, the main stage was almost empty at this point.)

Francois during Fokofpolisiekar, just before my camera battery died, what an epic performance. In highschool I wasn't a fan of Afrikaans, not many English speaking kids were. But this band inspired me to sit down and translate all their lyrics. And now I wish I was Afrikaans.. 

Skate ramps are always rad to have at fests

Bail

This is my favorite shot of the weekend, I don't know why

Mostert pissing

Jade of Pistolwhip 45.. These two

Wynand during Van Coke Cartel's set, blew my mind, these guys are on another level

Hog Hoggidy Hog - Ripper of a set, new song was rad.

And this is where I ended up early Sunday morning... Photo taken by Christelle Duvenage

What an epic weekend. Cheers to everyone I shared it with. May the South African music scene keep going strong.