Subjective Reality: 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..