Fear Factory, probably America’s most well-known industrial metal band, is heading to South Africa and will perform live at Bassline in Johannesburg on Friday the 10th of June and in Cape Town at the Assembly the next day (Saturday the 11th of June). Chris van Der Walt, our to-go-to in-house metal expert had a chat with Dino Cazares, guitarist, writer and founding member of Fear Factory. If you we’re lucky enough to have seen Iron Maiden perform in South Africa a couple of weeks ago, this is another show that metal fans should really not miss out on…

How’s the touring been so far?
Everything has been totally amazing we’ve been on the road now for like seven weeks. Just the amount of people who’ve been coming out for the tour here in the US. Its killer!

What do you know about South Africa?
Well I don’t know a lot about South Africa. We’re extremely excited to go there to experience what its like. You know, to be there, to play shows there. I only know one band, Die Antwoord from South Africa and that’s really all I know, haha!

Little bit of an adventure ahead?
Totally! We can’t wait to get there to see how things are there!

You guys will enjoy it. We can feed you guys to the lions and all sorts of stuff.
Haha!

On to Genexus, the new album. Congrats on that, absolute masterpiece – melodic, heavy, incredibly well designed. Dino, could you just maybe take me through the writing process. How did it start for Genexus and how did it evolve?
Well, we started the writing process, basically just me and an engineer, inside a studio and started to write a bunch of music to create demos for Burton to start write lyrics to. Once we started getting few songs down, me and Burton sat down and you know… what are we going to write about? Lyrically, what do we want to say? So once we came up with an idea, things started to come together and then when we came up with the title of the album, Genexus. That is when the full concept of the album started to come together. Ultimately it just starts with a guitar and a drum machine pretty much. And a computer. And it progresses from there. Obviously we do a lot of keyboard, a lot of keyboard programming. That’s where Rhys Fulber (who is our producer) – that’s where he comes in. We also have a very talented engineer – his name is Damien Rainaud. He also engineered the album and hepled out with the keyboards as well. We’re very proud of what we came up with. We wanted to have a really good balance between melodic vocals and heavy vocals. That’s pretty much our signature sound since day one. We write songs for a purpose, not just to write songs. Musically we wanted to create a sound track to the concept of the album.
It feels like you’re put in a machine or transformed into some mechanical state and its cool
Well yeah, haha! Genexus is a play on words – genesis and nexus and genesis is obviously the beginning of time and nexus means “the connection” so its a connection of where we started and where we are in the future. When we were in the writing process of this album we were like “OK, so let’s get into the vibe of when we wrote some of our classic records, to create a record with that kind of feeling. We feel that we were successful in doing that. A lot of people have said that this record does sound like a combination of Demanufacture and Obsolete and obviously something newer. Genexus is basically the singularity process and we’re living among a new model of droids called Genexus or the Genexus Model.

Not only as mankind but I mean you guys are also using the same elements that you were using long ago but we all do evolve. And as a band well.
Yeah, well technically. Technology has gotten better for us over the years. When we first started we didn’t have a lot of the keyboards and stuff like that. We didn’t have computers that had half of the sound that could create this manufactured sound. We’ve always been about technology and the growth of technology, how it evolves and how it plays a big part of our day-to-day lives. And there is a lot of truth behind that because we use all the technology to make our records but still combined with the human element.

So on the new album, Mike Heller also stepped in and did some of the live drumming…
Yeah Mike Heller definitely… you know once we got all the music written we sent Mike Heller over the songs and he learned the songs and once he learned the songs we went to the studio to record everything and, you know, we wanted that live drummer element feel to the record because we thought that it would give a little bit more vibe. And it did. It helped a lot.

Definitely – it brings the two elements together – the mechanical and the human element
Exactly and that is pretty much wat Genexus is about.

To the live band from the studio; working with people like Tony Campos and stuff – you guys started working together a while back and if I remember correctly jammed together in Asesino?
Yeah, Tony Campos is one of those guys, one of those bass players who is extremely professional to any style or any band that he’s in. He first started out in a band called Static-X. Static-X was pretty much a combination of Prong meets Fear Factory meets Ministry, so obviously he knew the style. Plus we did have a band together as you said, Asesino. So when he joined Fear Factory he could easily adapt to what we were doing because he has pretty much been doing it for a long time himself. He is very tight, he is very loud in the mix – we play live so you can hear the bass, you know? Sometimes we’ve had bass players in the crowd who was not as good… they were lower in the mix, haha! Tony is one of those guys who is up there. Same thing with Mike Heller. He’s been with the band for roughly five years now. He is super professional, super tight, super technical so we sound like a really tight band playing live. And it sounds really good.
Especially with the new album. The production sound on it is so tight and so precise and nailing that, I guess, is a very important element.
I mean of course, you know? Live we’re only human and you wanna hear a couple of mistakes here and there but overall we’re a pretty tight band and I like to kinda brag about that. We try and make it sound as close to the record as possible. We also have a sound engineer who’s been working with the band for the past six, seven years and he has it pretty much dialed in pretty great.

We’re really looking forward to your shows in South Africa. I think it is going to be great! We’ll take you through South Africa and maybe show you the unexpected parts which might be more fun.
Haha! Like what would that be? What is something very typical?

Obviously we’ve got the wild life here, we’ve got stuff like shark cage diving…
Should we change it and not go on a safari?

No, not at all. I think stuff like that is cool to check. Its a good time of the year as well. It might be a bit cold jumping in with the sharks though.
Haha, I’ll be sure to bring my swimming trunks.

Or maybe like a protection suit for the sharks.
Protection from sharks? Hahahaha! What, do you guys have sharks everywhere?

Like you say, everything evolves. We’ve got walking sharks now. Its incredible.
Hahahaha! I look forward to seeing it…

Gewoonlik geniet net dowwe mense kak Afrikaanse musiek. Uiteindelik kan dowe mens nou ook kak Afrikaanse musiek beleef.  “SA’s FIRST mainstream Afrikaans music video with a sign language interpreter for deaf people.” Nouma piele, hoor. As jy so bly is oor die eerste Afrikaanse music video vir dowes, hoekom tune jy in Engels daaroor? Dit sal actually beter met almal gaan as hierdie musiek eerder net ge-sign en plaas van gesing word. Liewe jirre, dis fokken aaklig.

Die lip sync is uit. Die bra wat “sing” klink of hy hard word om ‘n drol waarvan die kop uitsteek los te worstel. Kom ons stop eerder net hier en ontleed nie verder nie.

Band of Skulls – By Default
Net vir future reference – ek doen nie fokken requests nie. Baie van julle marabse stuur musiek na my en Griffin se kant toe en dis befok – soms like ons dit en soms nie. Obviously, want smaak verskil. Nie dat ek veel van musiek af weet nie. Ek dink net om musiek te deel met ander mense is een van die befokste dinge wat jy kan doen op hierdie blou-groen planeet van ons wat teen ‘n kak spoed om die son donder. Sommige van ons is net fokken stupid genoeg om ons balle op die metaalwerktafel te gooi  en ons opinies in die interwebs in te stuur – waar almal met hamers werk.

Hannes Brummer se tweet wat my request het om Band of Skulls (’n band wat al beskryf is deur menigte kritici as ‘n tipe the Black Keys rip-off band) se nuwe album uit te check, was met die nodige agterdog bejeën wat dit verdien. Ek het hom nog net so een of twee keer vinnig ontmoet en hy het net vir my gelyk soos ‘n bra wat kak musieksmaak het. Sulke luister Modern Talking en Beyonce terwyl hy so skelm in sy haarborsel sing! Hahaha! *Koes* Wel, kom ons gee hom die benefit of the doubt en vind uit of hy actually uitmaak van kief musiek of nie.

Ek onthou die band van 2012 af met hulle tweede album Sweet Sour maar het hulle nie weer daarna die time of day gegee nie. Het hulle probably in die ‘The Black Keys’ boksie gesit en vergeet van hulle. So die belangrikste ding waarna ek wil kyk is: hoe naby is Band of Skulls nou genuine aan die Black Keys? Met die eerste song op By Default hoor ek daai primal dark dirty blues rock influence al klaar. Jirre, dit begin met ‘n snare drum inskopper en ‘n Jimmy Page riff. Ek like dit anyway, nevermind die labels wat ander mense hulle gee nie. Russel Marsden se vocals het nou nie moerse range nie maar hy het darem reg-in-die mirrel-Sirrel stembande. Don’t get me wrong, ek smaak the Black Keys. Maar let’s face it, hulle musiek, alhoewel dit benchmark stuff was aan die begin, klink nou asof dit meer boundaries het as van tevore.
It’s the same old thing in rock and roll. Dinge beweeg so vinnig, ander bands wat jou sound copy gaan dalk later dinge doen wat jy nooit kon nie. Tensy jy kan aanpas. Ek kan onmiddelik hoor hoe deviate Band of Skulls met die tweede song na iets fokken heeeeltemal anders. Back of Beyond behou daai donker blues rock vibe maar dit het ‘n ‘the artist formerly known as Prince’ songwriting kwaliteit wat dit laat neig na Iggy Pop of INXS se bouncy eighties guitar rock tunes. Dit vang jou hook, line and sinker – jirre dis lekker. Persoonlik is daai sound baie meer interesting vir my as Black Keys se raw original boxed in blues rock sound. But then again, ek love die stripped down sound ook. Ek het die eerste twee songs op my PC se kak speakers gegooi net om aan die skryf te kom. Gaan eerder die res van die album op my system luister…

En ek is terug. Ja-nee fok, die enigste rede hoekom die band nie massive recognition gekry het die afgelope tien jaar nie was probably omdat hulle klank bietjie te naby aan the Black Keys was. Ek gaan net gou ‘n paar van die ou tunes op Youtube gooi en na Himalayan (2014) in geheel luister – net om te hoor of ek nie te veel kak praat nie, and I’ll get back to you…

Ok I’m back. Jôssôs, dis prôgtôg, Hônnes! Himalayan is ‘n great album maar ja, ek skiem bietjie te naby aan the Black Keys nog. Hier is bietjie van Mr Miyagi se wysheid: “Same-same, but different”. Gaan luister weer na Asleep at the Wheel en I feel like Ten Men, Nine Dead and One Dying. Befokte songs. En terug by By Default. Band of Skulls beskou hierdie offering, hulle vierde album, as risky omdat hulle in ‘n hele ander rigting beweeg nou. Ek dink hulle begin nou eers met my praat. En hopelik met ander rock fans ook. Killer is ook ‘n ander tipe ass kick. Black Sabbath indy rock mash up riffs wat met sulke melodic nineties alternative vocals blend.

Tropical Disease het so 007 soundtrack gevoel – monotone lead vocals en mooi trekkerige background vocals. So Good is probably een van die beste pop rock songs wat ek in ‘n lang tyd gehoor het. Jissus, volpunte vir hierdie een! Emma Richardson se vocals pas perfek by die basic, primal, fokken sexy ‘less is more’ rhythms en sulke rugged riffs. Klink soos asof Moloko dalk sou wou rock back in the day. Onthou julle daai doef-doef tunes? Sing it back… don’t bring it back…

Little Mamma klink weer amper soos Depeche Mode in hulle nineties rock fase (Songs of Faith and Devotion (1993)). Nog ‘n deviation is Something wat ook nogal na the artist who took his own life recently klink. Daar is nog ‘n dominant the Black Keys flavour in die res van die tunes maar dis fine met my – ek gaan definitief meer van hierdie band se musiek luister. Ek hoop hulle kry hierna meer recognition . Dis amper ‘n benchmark album maar hulle kom net-net nie daarby uit nie. So ek kan nie volpunte gee vandag nie maar vier horings By Default vir die befokte album van die Band of Skulls! See what I did there?

by Marc

I passed a newspaper headline poster the other day. Last Sunday, I think. Stuck on a street light pole. I think it was the Sunday Tribune, or something. I don’t read newspapers anymore and that has more I think to do with the recognition that reading newspapers is only slightly edifying and far more depressing and a willful subjection of oneself to, at best, negative trivia and, at worst, manipulated bullshit, rather than the sensationalism that has overtaken almost every newspaper over the last decade or two. Did you notice that? Years ago. When you saw headlines, bought the (ordinarily unimpeachable) newspaper on the day and realized that the article was mostly hype and far less noteworthy than you had anticipated? Realizing, too, that the headline had been, basically, lying crap. I remember it, not only because I have an interest in matters journalistic, but also because it occurred to me as something sad that in the transition from the era of print (and thus newspaper) dominance towards the tech, online era, newspapers were not helping themselves by degenerating into bog-roll, selling their integrity like that. Many papers had struggle credentials too. It seemed an emerging tragedy that all of the horror and death they had so bravely tried to expose was now reduced to whoopy-doo horseshit.

Nowadays, with the Daily Sun cementing bullshit trivia as standard fare in this country and, really, in my opinion, just dumbing the whole world down with it and, rather stingily for me, treating their predominantly black, working class readership like assholes (although they are the assholes who consume the crap), it’s become standard. No one, perhaps with the exception of The Mail & Guardian and one or possibly two others, have any journalistic integrity left. And by journalistic integrity I mean manifesting the confidence in the reader that the articles are honest, unbiased and factually correct as far as the writer could ascertain and that the content is relevant, important even and contributes in some way to human progress or, at least, societal intelligence.

Different world today… So, when I passed the headline that said “How to be a blesser” my toes curled a little. For those of you who don’t know, a blesser is a South African, currently emerging term for any man who has sufficient disposable income to buy a usually younger, female ‘blessee’ clothes and tuition fees and hair and nails and stuff (there’s a quote there, but I’ll get to that just now) in exchange for her sexual charms. Her naked ass. I might be wrong, but I believe this used to be called prostitution…? Now of course it’s a soft version, couched in kissy-wissies and lovey-doveys, but the rote, mercenary “Ok bend over and I’ll bless you, bitch” remains inherent there for me. Ok ok, I’m sure I don’t have to use words like “bitch” and I also won’t pop a few images of underage Hillbrow prostitutes in here in words in order to avoid making this article depressing too but… really?

A blesser. Mmmmm…. I am ok with being a (limited) provider and, as it happens I am an older man dating younger women and it’s nothing but a joy to help out, but that’s a given anyhow… I give as freely to the vagrant who lies on the pavement lawn outside my complex every day. Also, while I’m going down this avenue, I am adamant about sexual performance – produce it or hop it.

So… while this wasn’t the source of my curling toes and, in fact, is only occurring to me now as I write this, perhaps particularly as a white man who dates only black women, I guess I am practicing at least some of the blesser formula, if only by default. Mmmmm.. It displeases me saying that, because I know I’m not. And the difference between me and a blesser? I need a real liaison, a genuine mutual interest with ALL possibilities present – up to and including love and marriage – before I want to be naked with someone. I need to have all of the essential ingredients contained in a woman before I do nasties with them. It doesn’t have to go that way – who gets to dictate that a natural unfolding of falling in love, marrying and mating is going to happen ever? – but the potential has to be there. For me. I need far more than a sex partner, at least going beyond the short term. Sex is easy, for almost all of us. Anyone can get laid, with apologies to all of you for whom this is patently untrue. But I need to lie down next to loveliness and intelligence too, before I get hard, besides any other prerequisites or preferences I might have… And how intelligent can you be, trading your holes for cash. Or goods, like that makes it better…

Although the whole blesser phenomenon is typically black, I am supremely confident that when people are selling their orifices for material goods, there’s plenty of colour blur and, frankly, who gives it? If you’ve got the money and you, baby, have got sufficient ice around your heart and tuition bills to pay or a desire for a new hairpiece, what does colour matter? So, what made my toes curl? The nature of the headline. I know I know – it’s just relatively inert phrase, “How to be a blesser”, but I was left wondering why it wasn’t “How to help your girl child not succumb to a blesser” or just “The blesser phenomenon of today”…? Something about the headline was almost tongue-in-cheek, almost congratulatory, almost suggesting “this is how you do it”… It stank. Much like when Lolly Jackson, that fine, upstanding bastion of morality whose smile shone upon Johannesburg, until organized crime shot him in his white-trash-with-money face and rubbed him out, was celebrated in some sense by the newspapers at the time. Regular articles, the life of Lolly laid bare with accompanying pics, Lolly the Joburg icon, the history of the rise of Lolly… God. The man was a sex trading piece of shit. Is he really making the papers as someone worthwhile? Is this really good reading for all, I thought at the time. That was a moment in the same vein, for me, when I saw that headline last Sunday. “How to be a blesser” rang those bells.
I mooted an explanation above. I mentioned that there’s a quote above I didn’t bother to punctuate with inverted commas. I was buzzed recently. By a young, black female student, resident in Pretoria. Online. From a site. “Hey – wanna chat?” or something like that. I looked at her profile. It stated quite openly “I’m looking for a blesser to buy me nice hair and nails and stuff”….. Unquote. Needless to say, apart from the fact that she wasn’t a particularly attractive mercenary whore which merely made it even sadder, I declined her request to “chat”. Shame. I guess she doesn’t know that the vagrant outside and I are more akin than strangers. Yes I live inside the complex he lies outside of, but our finances are pretty much neck and neck right now I’d be prepared to wager. He might get thrown off the lawn, but I might get thrown down the stairs. Anyway… I am not a blesser. Or, put another way, a man who would pay for a woman’s sexual servitude. Let me hastily ward off the acrimony that will surely arise from some (mostly female) quarters, mostly those women who know that they have compromised or will happily compromise their sexual integrity for material inputs, and say that of course people have got to do what they’ve got to do. No, I don’t wish to control female sexuality or curtail the freedom of women to do as they see fit, within the confines of what society deems law. But, really…?

I looked at the photo of the wannabe blessee who buzzed me. Weirdly, I thought of her folks. Was so saddened by it all. Did they really want their daughter growing up into this? Do they give a shit? Did they inspire her to it? People, hey…

It’s a headline. Young girls are going to drive past that. And it’s slightly celebratory in phrasure. Isn’t it? Am I being a prude? I don’t know…. But I do know that the young girls in my life that I care about I would have never factor in getting a “blesser” on board in order to ease their way in this life. God, no. For me, it’s far more prostitution and far less “just a girl making her way”, all smiles and happy, jiggly tits…. It’s whoring your slit. Can we just call it for what it is? A blesser is a whore monger. And a blessee is a whore. I don’t buy, as the headline seemed to encourage, that it’s a component of life nowadays and, ag, not so bad hey. Better than prostituting yourself on the street… Really? Somehow, street hookers seem to manifest more integrity than blessees, to me. I don’t think finding a blesser is an ok aspiration for any young woman. I would shit myself if one of my girls grew up factoring that into her safety net. Whoring one’s flesh costs. I know. We all know. We all feel it, which is why the massive majority of us don’t do it. I know that evolutionary psychology can paint marriage as nothing more than prostitution too, but I always found that extrapolation somewhat limited, as it avoided any mention of companionship, the spirit. The massive human growth and good that long term relationships help us feel if not positively manifest.
Whoring one’s flesh costs. Buying flesh costs. So, does “blessing”.
How long before your blesser wants to stick something up your anus and you’re lying there, contemplating the rape of your soul and the pain you’ll endure, weighed up against that big screen TV? Maybe you’ll be lucky and have a gentlemanly blesser and it will work out just fine for you, but the reason I don’t gamble is this thing – the losses are just too potentially great. If I could lose only 20% of my money and go home, maybe I’d gamble. But the prospect of going home without my shirt is too great an ask for me. The downside is too far down. It’s unacceptable. Complete. Utter loss. So, when your blesser makes you blow him in front of his friends, or comes over drunk and bliksems you before sodomizing you, or wants you to fuck his friends before he buys you a car, well… Good luck with that shit. It’s always a potential. See? It’s that unacceptable potential, like putting yourself into a situation where you can lose every penny you own, that’s an integral part of the contract that puts the lie to all the couching and lovey-doveyness you can say about blessers. Basically, it’s the knowledge that your ass is worth someone’s disposable income, that makes it unacceptable for me as a construct. A phenomenon.

Don’t be a blesser. Don’t be a blessee. Please God… And, speaking of God, bless all of you

In Bitterkomix 17 is Joe Dog (Anton Kannemeyer) en Konradski (Conrad Botes) weer besig met hulle ou, sif tricks en dit is fokken fantasties! Kan jy glo dat die eerste issue van Bitterkomix way back in 1992 uitgekom het? Oor die laaste 24 jaar het dit ook contributors ingesluit soos (om maar net ‘n paar te noem) Brett Murray, Koos Kombuis, Lisa Brice, Lorcan White, Karlien de Villiers en die world-famous Robert Crumb. In die nuutste uitgawe is Catherine du Toit die guest editor en is die ou vuilgat comic boekie opgedra aan Tienie du Plessis.

Bitterkomix is veral famous vir satiriese socio-politiese onderwerpe en poes heavy imagery. Letterlik. Soos Watkykjy is dit ook maar net vir grootmense wat sonder sonder besemstokke in hulle holle rondloop. In die nuutste uitgawe is daar ook ander contributors wat Joe Daly, Breyten Breytenbach, John Miles en Ryk Hattingh insluit.

Die boek is genuine poes snaaks en ons het ‘n limited hoeveelheid van 20 in stock gesit daaso by ons online shoppie, die Zefshop, so gaan kry vir jou een voor dit te laat is of score vir iemand ‘n befokte present. Hierdie outjies gaan ook eventually fokken skaars raak soos die sestien uitgawes voor dit. Onthou, spuit kom altyd in jou broek…

Hier is ‘n voorsmakie van die cover en so bladsy of twee van 96 bladsye van die comic:

Lekker Strange by Maropa Polokwane
Egbert
Poes is goedkoop in die volstruis hoofstad..
Kyk die gevaarlike line up by kuierplek in George
James
Ek het fap jacks gemaak
James
Te dankie aan Mnr. Aalbers. Dit is gesien te Roelandstraat, Kaapstad.
Etienne
GOT FUR. Gespot in South Dakota.
Johan
Zef was gespot toe ek een aand CS:GO geklap het. Hierdie is wat gebeur as iemand cheat op ‘n South African server…
Billy
Lekker innie Moot!
Dave
Wie’s jou pa?
Andre
Did an ATM bombing go fabulously wrong or did Kanye Waste just rock up at #SAMA22
Andrew
Gespot in Worcester – ‘n tannie met n rowwe Datsun!
Jay-ce

Uiteindelik het iemand dit goed gedink om ‘n doccie te maak oor The Springbok Nude Girls, een van SA se grootste rock bands. Fokkit, hierdie lyk of dit kiefpiele gaan wees. Dit gaan dik memories terugbring. Kan jy onthou waar jy hulle die eerste keer live gesien het? Vir ons gomgatte was dit in McCoy’s in Snortoria. Fokken goeie tye.

Check die trailer!

Dis al klaar moeilik genoeg vir jong up and coming rock en alternative pop bands om ‘n breakthrough te maak in die SA musiekbedryf as jy jouself bevind in een van die rock and roll hoofstede van Azania. Maar wat van al daai marabse in kleiner dorpe en stede oor die land? Of selfs net groter stede waar – let’s be honest – die rock en alternative pop scene nie heeltemaal so ernstig opgeneem word nie? Ons skiem hierdie marabse van die Free States daar in Bloem sukkel met daai een. Hulle roep hulleself The Snowcones. Positiewe Brit Pop Alternative vibes in my Gen-X opinie.
Watkykjy gaan voortgaan met wat Griffin begin het met Kilo Hills en so nou en dan jonger bands interview wat nog besig is om die mas op te kom – maak nie saak of hulle in Platnatparrasrand bly nie. Ons sal na rou talent ook kyk, maar vandag kyk ons na ‘n band wat al klaar ‘n polished produk in hand het. Ons gaan definitief net bands interview wat in ons beskeie fokken mening potensiaal het om te groei. Hierdie is nie Pop Idols nie. Dié sneeukoppe het alreeds hard begin werk en dues betaal, so moet ons asseblief nie oorval met sakke vol garage demos nie. Ons sal social media dop hou en ons ore op die grond hou. Dis nie ‘n kompetisie of iets nie. Ons gaan net bietjie credit gee waar dit due is. We’ll know it when we see it.

Howzit Marc, Pieter en Jonathan! Thanks dat julle ingestem het om met ons te chat. So wat gaan daar in Bloem aan, bras? Ek ken net die Mystic Boer… en dis about dit. Jirre, weet die mense in Bloem ooit van Watkykjy? Of gaan hulle ons laat arresteer daar?
Yes Rolbees , hier gaan maar soos gewoonlik nie veel aan in Bloem nie. Mystic kry darem so nou en dan ‘n lekker band wat kom speel en as ons gelukkig is kom hier so een of twee keer ‘n jaar ‘n oraait music festival en ons hoop dat daar darem ‘n paar studente hier is wat weet van Watkykjy?

Julle is al ‘n jaar en ‘n half aan die go, so julle moes seker al ‘n hele paar gigs gespeel het. Eerstens, hoe moeilik is dit vir julle om gigs te kry in die States? (Ek het gesien julle het al hier in Pretoria kom gig ook). En tweedens, hoe moeilik is dit om gigs in die groot stede te kry? Travel costs kan seker ‘n bitch wees as jy net begin of hoe? Wat is die challenges vir ‘n jong band?
Dit is nie so moeilik om gigs te kry in Bloem nie. Die probleem is egter meer dat hier omtrent net drie plekke is waar mens kan speel en in die ander dorpe hier in die Vrystaat is ook min, Branfort? Ons weet nie. Dit is heelwat moeiliker om in die ander groot stede gigs te kry omdat Bloem nou nie eintlik bekend is vir sy uitstekende musieksmaak nie en dan as jy gigs kry speel mens maar die cover charge wat nie eers genoeg is vir petrol cover nie, so ons hoop darem vir ‘n bier en miskien ‘n pie.

Was julle nog altyd net die drie snow cones gewees?
Ons was in die begin net drie in die band, so ons live shows was baie meer akoesties gewees, maar ons het nou na die EP die band vol gemaak met nog ‘n kitaarspeler (Jean) en ‘n drummer (Jacques). Ons het lank gesoek vir nog fokken lekker bras hier in Bloem om te join.

Kom ek gooi ‘n lekker clichéd vraag. Clichéd, maar belangrik. Watse musiek luister julle. Wie is julle influences?
Ons is nie seker wie ons kan sê is ‘n direct influence op ons musiek nie maar ons luister baie Portugal The Man, The Black Keys, Tame Impala , Cage The Elephant en dan ook local indie soos Shortstraw en Al Bairre.

The Snowcones remind my moerbaie aan die meer positive brit Pop tunes wat ek geluister het op varsity in die nineties. Kom ek hoor by julle. Hoe sou julle Snowcones se tunes beskryf. Verduidelik bietjie wat noem mens dit? Urban Groove? Net vir die ou ballies? Nie ek nie, die genuine ou ballies!
Dit is musiek wat mens se siel moet laat glimlag. Dit moet lekker wees maar tog ook iets beteken. Maar die belangrikste is dat die crowd op dit kan jol.

Julle het onlangs julle heel eerste EP met die naam Please You klaar record? Hoe het dit gevoel toe julle die finale produk die eerste keer geluister het? Ek verstaan die title track en die song Shaking het alreeds airplay gekry? Is dit airplay oor die hele land?
Bra, ons het gedink dit klink befok en dat ons maybe iets hier het wat plekke kan gaan. Sovêr het Shaking en Please You op verskeie kampusradiostasies gejam soos Kovsiefm, Pukfm en Tuksfm. Ons hoop vir bietjie meer nasionale coverage, maar ons het ‘n toekomende track wat dalk groter kan wees. Stay tuned.

Vertel ons bietjie van die recording proses met die album? Hoe begin ‘n band in Bloem (en for that matter ander kleiner stede in ons land ) om ‘n EP te record? Hoe het julle te werk gegaan? Is daar baie keuses van studios?
Hier is twee studios in Bloem waarvan ons weet , maar ons het nie by een van hulle record nie. Ons het ‘n ou gekontak met die naam Jean-Lenix Fourie wat ‘n paar ander local bands ook record het. Hy het ons EP record en produce – hy het extra kitaar getrack op die EP, wat kief geklink het, toe maak ons hom ‘n member.

Is The Snowcones vir julle ‘n part time of full time gig? Waarmee hou julle julself besig andersins?
Ons wil dit graag ‘n full time gig maak, maar meeste van ons is nou tweedejaar studente – Marc swot joernalistiek, Jonathan musiek en Pieter swot iets. Jean record ander bands hier in Bloem en Jacques is ‘n graphic designer. Part-time students, full-time bras.

Wat is julle volgende planne? Is daar ‘n vollengte album op die horizon ook?
Daar is vir seker ‘n vollengte album op pad en dan om soveel as moontlik gigs op te line en ons musiek te versprei na ywerige luisteraars, The states and abound.

Thanks vir die chat bras. Skop gat met daai EP en al julle gigs! En gee die fokken Vrystaat horings! Sulke baie duiwelshorings!
Thanks Rolbees, chat hopelik vining weer!

Ons hier by Watkykjy ken nogal baie mense en meeste van die mense waarmee ons assosieer is mooi mense. Meestal van binne. Sulke goue hartjies met glitter en kak op. Maar baie van ons tjommies is ook sommer mooi aan die buitekant ook. Boner mooi. Ons deel nie altyd al ons secrets met julle nie maar ons sal maar vandag die seël breek en julle voorstel aan een van ons tjommies, Cindy Pretorius wat ons nou al ‘n gruime tydjie vir julle weggesteek het. Sy het actually ‘n hele ruk terug al spesiaal ‘n photoshoot vir Watkykjy gedoen. Toe steek ons dit onder ‘n klip weg vir julle. Jirre, ons is fokken dose. Moenie worry nie – van daai foto’s is hieronder te bespeur…

Cindy is 22 jaar oud, bly in Pretoria en is al vir vier lank besig met modelling. Sy is grotendeels ‘n alternative model, so die van julle kokkelolle wat by local metal shows uithang het haar al moontlik raakgeloop of in ‘n music video of drie te siene gekry. Wanneer sy nie model nie, grind sy graag haar chastity belt (sonder om haar koek ‘n plus te sny) op stage saam met Boargazm. Sy het onlangs ook commercial modelling werk begin doen en dit strek van fashion tot conceptual en avant-garde. Behalwe vir dit is sy ook ‘n tattoo artist: “Ek het al in hoërskool begin, maar full-on scratcher shit. Toe ek sien hoeveel kak ek aanjaag, het ek college toe gegaan vir Art & Design. Daarna het ek toe weer die masjientjie opgetel en begin oefen met behulp van twee vriende. Nou is ek aan die gang as ‘n tattoo artist!” (Cindy’s Tattoos)

Gaan check gerus Cindy se website uit by http://www.cindypretorius.com/. Dis nogal refreshing om bietjie alternatiewe local models te feature, right? Laat ons gerus weet as jyself ‘n local bokkie is wat Woensdae op Watkykjy warmer wil maak.

Twee laaste dinge:
1) Cindy is nie single nie, sorry ouens. Jy het nul kans. Rol maar enetjie met die hand uit.
2) Geniet die kiekies en share hierdie local beauty. Ons gooi so bietjie meer kiekies as gewoonlik, juis omdat sy local is. Vat so!

Ken julle die Kingston Trio? Glad nie? Pete Seeger? Woodie en Arlo Guthrie? Ook nie? Grateful Dead? Nee, marabse dis nie ‘n zombie apocalypse PG comedy nie. The Band? Doesn’t ring a bell? Probably omdat jou pa of oupa dit skelm geluister het in die sixties – want anders sou jy nooit die blootstelling gekry het aan sulke good old fashioned hillbilly folk musiek nie. Tensy jy nou ‘n professionele Google en YouTube addict is. Dit geld actually vir enige behoorlike folk musiek for that matter.

Ek is nogal picky wat folk musiek aanbetref en meer ‘n Bob Dylan fan. Ja, ek verkies intense, donker diep en brooding folk. But then again, hierdie tipe ‘up tempo’ folk is darem maar ook fokken lekker – so op sy tyd. En as jy mooi luister hoor jy ook ‘n lekker blues influence. Dis meer my kos. Georgetown se musiek is nie jou deursnit Pretoria sound nie, en dis probably hoekom ek hulle verlede jaar by die Capital Craft bierfees – daar langs die Voëltrekkermonument – onmiddelik kon absorbeer en verteer… en baie geniet het. Melt Sieberhagen wat die MC was het my nogal ‘n interessante vraag gevra: “Hoe rock and roll is ‘n ukulele nou eintlik?”
Wel, as jy sulke lekker foot tapping hillbilly folk musiek maak sal ek jou die benefit of the doubt gee. Georgetown present dit net in ‘n slightly meer moderne wrapper. Nee, daar is geen rapper nie. Goddank. Jy wil “heeeeeehaaaaaaaawwwww” skree, met jou strooihoed op jou kop, so tussen deur jou hillbilly gesange, terwyl jy in jou Toyota Prius in peak traffic vassit nie. Maar dis ook glad nie moderne hipster Mumford en Sons folk nie. Dubbele goddank. Want al wat ons nodig het is nog ‘n Mumford en Sons hipster band.

Nee, Georgetown is nie bang om die dankbare dooies se geeste op ‘n meer direk geskiedkundige wyse op te roep nie. En somehow, in Snor City in 2016, is dit ‘n refreshing small mercy. Iets nuuts wat voortvloei uit iets van ouds. A real band is hard to find these days. Fok, ek spoeg vandag clichés uit soos ‘n worsmasjien. Julle moet fokken byhou. Maar as jy my nie glo nie, hoor wat tune hulle self oor die debut album: “Banana Jack is the result of support from great friends & family, good Samaritans and inspirable whiskey”. Wie kan nou stry met Whiskey?
Kom ons begin met die enigste cover op die album – Lazy Bones, ‘n 1940’s collaboration tussen Johnny Mercer en Hoagy Carmichael, wat ‘n hele paar dekades later meer bekend gemaak is deur Leon Redbone. Ek is seker daarvan dis al baie gecover maar dis die een wat ek soortvan mee vetroud is. As jy oud genoeg is om TV4 te onthou van SAUK/SABC faam in die eighties, sal jy Mr Belvedere se theme song dalk ook onthou. Dit was ‘n Leon Redbone classic gewees. Dit impress my sommer al klaar as ‘n band (van Rooihuiskraal nogal, heeeehaaaaaawwww) so song, wat ryk in geskiedenis en so obscure is dat meeste mense nog nooit daarvan gehoor het nie, cover. Goeie werk, ouens! Die cover klink vir my beter as die original (en vorige covers). So lekker upbeat feel!

Daar is net ses songs op die album, so dit is actually ‘n EP. Man, dis nogal weird om sulke Afrikaanse name te check op die CD cover terwyl ek na die musiek luister. Ek verwag Amerikaanse name van Asheville, North Carolina of Memphis, Tennessee of iets dergeliks. Jackson, Thompson of Anderson. Nee, try eerder Erasmus,van Dyk en de Villiers. So ek moet myself herinner dié marabse is actually van die Rooihuiskraal breed. Naby genoeg aan Hillbillies anyway. Ha!
Ek is nie so vetroud met al die verskillende folk genres van ouds om Georgetown suksesvol te probeer analiseer nie. Maar dit klink pretty damn authentic vir my. Where’s Johnny begin so met ‘n cowboy saloon klavier en die klarinet add net daai nodige warmte wat jy na smag as jy folk musiek wil gooi op die draadloos. Mary-Anne het ‘n lekker ‘langpad’ gevoel. Rolling thunder acoustic geeetaaars en bedonderde bekfluitjie. Golden Boy se vocals klink of dit way back in 1956 record is – so met die bekfluitjie en klavier in die agtergrond en die klarinet wat die hele song onderstreep en selfs inkleur by tye. Tiaan, Michael en Renaldo, julle doen die vocals reg, julle fokken hillbillies! Pink Cadillac is my favourite tune op die album. Massive crowd pleaser hierdie, sulke bluesy groove riffs met ‘n saamsing chorus. Black Tide sluit die album af met ‘n ‘n lekker sad folk song wat klink of dit op die soundtrack van ‘n movie soos Easy Rider ingesluit kon word.

Vier horings uit my broeksak vir julle!

Behalwe dat hierdie ‘n behind the scenes video is vir Albert Frost se photo shoot vir die die cover vir sy nuwe album, The Wake Up, is dit ook ‘n lekker guide tipe video vir apsiring musiekfotograwe of sommer net fotografie in general. Die video gee ‘n gevoel van hoe ouens in die bedryf in fyner details ingaan wanneer dit by photo shoots kom. Even die basic shit soos byvoorbeeld om die guitar strings skoon te maak. Dis waar die verskil inkom tussen ‘n marabs met ‘n iPhone en die pro’s wat projekte behoorlik beplan met met doelgerigte direction. Maar as jy jouself nou nie aan daai kak steur nie is dit steeds ‘n kief video vir aanhangers van Albert Frost se musiek om te check hoe die man te werk gaan met hierdie gedeelte van die recording proses.

Lees ook sommer Rolbees se review oor sy nuwe album as jy nog nie het nie. Dis nou Albert se album, nie Rolbees se album nie. Rolbees het nie ‘n album uit nie. Moenie fokken simpel raak nie.

Bands, brannas en borste was die afgelope paar maande meer belangrik as rappie hier in Watkijkistan, maar ek moet bieg dat dit befok is om te sien dat Lionel Mapoe finally die nommer 13 boktrui oor sy kop gaan trek. So ruk gelede het die transformasiebom mos behoorlik gebars. Almal was in ‘n flatspin en sogenaamde kenners soos Tank Lanning het vir ons mooi gewys dat hulle actually fokol van die onderwerp af weet nie.

Vir my is dit kaksnaaks hoe ons land se serial racists elke keer kop uitsteek as die woord transformasie uit die mond van ons Minister van Sport kom. Wat my ook heavy laat lag is wanneer manne – soos ou Ben Follow The Ounce (of smack) – dan skielik begin pro-transformasie stories soek in ‘n poging om te bewys dat iemand wel iets rondom die saak doen. Ben is een van daai over-privileged Joburg latte wat onder die indruk is dat die Bokke weens transformasie verseistes oor ‘n paar jaar gaan sukkel om Afghanistan te klop. Tog prys dieselfde ouens die Blitzbokke se prestasies – ‘n span waar dit begin moeilik word om die wit bra te spot (en daar is net sewe dudes op die veld op ‘n slag).

Ben maak ook nie uit van quarts in ‘n township drink nie en Ben het probably ook nog nooit die moeite goen om meer van ander kulture te leer nie. (Het jy geweet dat Xhosa dudes nie bring en braai vibes doen nie – as jy by hulle braai supply hulle alles, insluitende die drank).

Baie van ons is soos Ben en dit is presies daar waar transformasie die nodigste is.

Transformasie het actually fokol met die getalle swart of bruin lywe op die veld te doen nie. Dit gaan oor ‘n mindset wat moet verander en ou Mr Mapoe se insluiting in die Bokspan is dalk die eerste teken dat transformasie nie so groot satan is as wat Afriforum (fokken tietkoppe) dit probeer uitmaak nie. Don’t get me wrong, die bra is nie weens sy velkleur in die span nie… maar sy velkleur het hom dalk al in die verlede uit die span gehou.

So klompie jaar gelede het Mapoe by die Cheetahs gewaai want die werfetters het besluit om hom nie die Super Rugby minimum wage te betaal nie! Yup, dit was ‘n “kom ons shnaai die bra” vibes. Die tipe kak het nog nooit met ‘n wit speler gebeur nie. Hulle het hom minder bucks gegee as wat van die wit laaities in die junior spanne gekry het. Heini Adams, die voormalige Bloubul skrumskakel, het ook op sy dag as Super Rugby speler minder geld verdien as ‘n wit bra wat op Vodacom Cup vlak rondgeploeter het. Bongi Mbunambi sou probably nooit ‘n Bok geword het as hy, soos Chiliboy Ralepelle, sy loopbaan op die Bulls bench voortgesit het nie. Fok, daar is baie sulke voorbeelde, trust me, maar ounes soos Ben praat nie daaroor nie.

Selfs van die swart rugbysprywers en experts soos ou Xola is te bang om sulke waarhede bekend te maak – netnou-netnou kom die SA Rugby Illuminati en vat hulle jobs.

Mapoe het toe by die Lions aangesluit en hy het ook vir die Bulle gejol toe die Lions vir so jaar uit Super Rugby geban was. Toe Jean de Villiers tydens die World Cup ‘n besering opgedoen het, moes hy eintlik deur Mapoe vervang word, maar Mapoe was nooit in die prentjie nie. Ja, hy het ook maar met beserings gesukkel, maar hy moes ook gekyk het hoe Jaco Taute en Jesse Kriel voor hom die nommer 13 sou dra.

“Fok die spesialis-senter, ons try iets nuuts”.

Kriel en Taute was/is heelagters op provinsiale vlak en toe boom! uit posisie gespeel vir die Bokke. Wonder jy nog steeds hoekom transformasie so groot issue is? Of moet ek dalk Ruan Pienaar stories begin vertel?

Wat Saterdag se date op Nuweland aanbetref sal dit awesome wees as die Bokke goed doen, but let’s face it boys, Allister Coetzee gaan meer as ‘n rukkie benodig om die luitere snert van sy voorganger uit te sort…

By Marc

I had a strange experience the other day. Well, the other night actually… I went to Bassline in the arty precinct of Johannesburg. Well, the old arty precinct, before yuppies established Maboneng. Thursday night. Rocking dancehall. I dig it. Dancehall. Ragga. The music I mean. Boss reggae. Between Bob Marley and Lucky Dube, between my teen years and the anomaly I today manifest as, that shit has totally rocked. There’s something about that music. En, quite frankly, diegene wat groot geword het, veral in Kaapstad soos ek en boom gerook het kan skaars betwis dat reggae in jou brein gevestig is, china. That’s just how it is… There’s something so logical about the partnership of dagga and rocking reggae music and something so grand about jolling to reggae. It’s generally upbeat, positive and rhythm-rich – all things that won’t struggle to be welcome when they step into your life in any moment, even if only for a moment. Hulle het vir seker saam grootgeword, die blaar en reggae. Which doesn’t mean I won’t throw myself into a mosh pit, aging punk that I am. I just enjoy a wide variety of music. I think once you really feel the beat, the rhythm of music, you enter that world of it en dan is daar fokol “Dis kak” en “Hierdie is piele musiek” tipe houding weens (of is dit teen?) die kleur en ooprsprong van musiek – musiek is musiek en alle goeie musiek is goeie musiek.

So, having hooked up a date – a young, buxom black chic called Faith with suitably ‘black’ hair braids and thus ragga credibility (‘credibility’ or camouflage I so obviously ruined by being a bald, white man) we stuck out to Bassline on a Thursday night. Pleasantly surprised to find a Rasta selling doob… bags, prerolled, offer-to-roll-it-for-you right there on the curb, you name it. Doob and stuff. And the cops?
“The cops just take money man” he said. “It’s OK – they look after me.”
“Uuh… Really…?” I asked. “How is that looking after you, ripping your shit or taking your tjeld?”
“Aah it’s all OK man” he said, and then very skillfully rolled us a joint that we toked on a little. Well, me a very little and Faith smaffed the rest like an old pro.
I say “a strange experience” but actually I had a familiar experience of it the other night, at Bassline. “It”, being life… An experience of SA life… It never loses it’s strangeness for me though, no matter how many times I live it out, this thing in this place… I have been a member of a black family, my family, for years now. It all ended late last year when my ex demonstrated that no matter your colour, your tribe, your race, your creed, you can always take a shot at the title of Head Monumental Fuckup of the Universe. That, ignores race. Anyway… It was me. My black ex. And her two black daughters. My kids. OK, not my kids but my kids, you know? Here’s the contract with kids: all of them deserve love and you, the adult, sign up to love them unconditionally until you die, once you love them as your own, whether they are your own or not. Once you become an adult in their lives. As jy dit nog nie geweet het nie, raak wys. If you would claim human intelligence, a heart, the ability to be and do good, then that’s the contract with kids. There’s only one. One only. So, I’ve had black funerals, black church, black jolling, black street parties ekasi, black weddings… Jislaaik. Black life.

Years ago when I was living with a Thai woman, a somewhat jaded and local white guy who had two kids with a Thai woman that he’d separated from said to me at some Thai cultural event at Zoo Lake: “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re Thai. Once you think you’re one of them, you’re fucked.” I guess he was observing my role as local right hand man to the Buddhist abbot at the meditation center. All of the other local husbands could tell I saw something they didn’t in meditation. In Buddhism. I wasn’t trying to adopt a culture though, a point they missed. I was merely celebrating skill when I came upon it. I was merely returning to wisdom I had known in samsara before now…

I remember being a little taken aback by his scorn, but I took him as a slightly bitter source who nonetheless had a valid observation. It’s been a struggle for me. I am so colour blind I don’t even think of myself as white, nor do I gravitate towards black women, music and suss just because it’s black and I’m uncomfortable in my white skin. I do think the white middle class should all be taken out and bumfucked by a camel, but that’s not the point. Anyway, I’m getting lost here… The point is – it’s taken me years to think in fluid sentences in my brain that, yes, I’m white and OK being white among black people. I’m not black, no, but beyond that observation or statement, who gives a shit? Thanks for noting that. End of acknowledgment. I’m South African, man… God, I’m human. I really do feel blessed to have coloured, black and white blood in me (and having looked at my genealogy once in the Cape Town archives, I totally do) on this strip of earth, having had all of the varied cultural inputs and nuances I’ve had growing up here. Peter, another former Thai-loving local whitey I met at that time had engaged me in conversation one night at his place.
“What do you think we are?” he’d asked. “European?”
“Uuh.. Ja, I guess, Caucasoid motherfuckers that we are, Peter.” I’d said.
“No. We’ve got almost fuck all in common with Europe man,” he’d said “we’re hybrids. It’s gone too far. We’re different to everyone now, us SA whiteys.”
I think he made an interesting point…

So, the few black funerals I’ve been to, wow…. Ek dink ek het al miskien so vyf bygewoon en ek kan seker die whiteys wat ek by hul almal kan onthou op die vingers van een hand tel. OK, OK, dis fokol. Dit sê niks behalwe miskien dat wit en swart nog steeds aparte lewens leef nie en dis OK op sekere levels, né? Daardie tipe ding neem tyd. OK. The ‘meshing’ in of various cultures until one day we look like Brazil. Or maybe Turkey. Where everyone looks Brazilian or Turkish first, and their tone comes after. Their origins. Watookal. Not that meshing in is necessary. I love being different. A different race. And I love being the same too. A people member. But it has occurred to me sometime during the service at a black funeral, or piling onto the back of a bakkie en route to the burial itself or standing in the graveyard when the body is lowered into the ground that I am the only whitey for fucking miles. I do wonder where the cultural blur is, why, when there’s this huge swathe of different, often sexy, very easy going humanity here – black folk – why whiteys are not positively present.
Black weddings? I’ve often been complimented by a handful of white work colleagues who either know the groom or the bride and thus have not been utterly alone in my race at weddings. I say that…. The last wedding I attended was in Zimbabwe. We drove up there through the utterly corrupt shit hole that Beit Bridge is and, sitting at this massive, black wedding (I think the entire district was invited), in Zim, I realised something interesting. Here I was, a lone whitey, at a black wedding with at least five thousand guests (I shit you not), taking place on a redistributed farm (the groom’s father was a recipient of Mugabe’s land reform ideas), going outside for a smoke every now and then to be engaged in conversations with a political twist to them by locals who were obviously at least intrigued if not weirded out by me. Me and my black fiancee. I say all of these things and write about them now, here, not because I am so conscious of being white but merely because it’s taken me years to start noticing when I’m a lone whitey and it has started to fascinate me a little. It’s lekker, because I can dance, baby. I can beebop. I’m not hanging my head around any race on earth, not on that score. Dankie. And I am chilled. And ‘at home’, you know? I can klap Black Label sitting under a tree in Mamelodi like I was born there and have been doing this every weekend of my adult life. So if I am aware of my race at all, it gives me some small kicks to disprove the assumptions I’m normally faced with. White men have small cocks (haven’t publicly disproved that one yet – that’s a personal mission I’m working on debunking on a one-to-one basis), white people can’t dance, white people won’t eat with their hands, white people won’t sit on the ground, white people just don’t generally get the black cultural necessities. It gives me some joy to piss on all of that when I happen to find myself in a position to do so. It makes me happy to be able to assert that we are all different and yet so obviously so much more similar, that any insistence on fundamental differences should just be taken out and shot with heavy weaponry.

Black church is a suffering for me, mostly because it goes on for fucking hours and, man, I do OK not being the lone whitey who stands up and walks out because I just cant take it any more but boy, I avoid it where I can. You can go to church for the whole fucking day as a black person. I don’t think God requires it, but there they go…

Let me wrap up the historical inputs and make my point about the strangeness I mentioned above. What else can I add to this catalogue? I was the only whitey at The Soil’s concert a year or two ago, oddly enough held at Mosaïek, the Afrikaans church stroke rock concert venue. I couldn’t have been the only whitey at Orlando Stadium with my ex to see R Kelly but I didn’t see any other whiteys. Fucking bizarrely, I nearly had a punch up with a coloured guy next to me who was with his wife, because he found my behavior with my ex – slinking to R Kelly and sucking face copiously – offensive. He shoved me and said “Don’t come and fuck your woman here!” when I walked past him at some point to go and buy beer. Ekskuus? WTF….?? To this day, I don’t know what that was really about and, no, we weren’t groping sexually or practicing foreplay, much less fucking in the aisles. We were just dancing lovingly and having a good time. I think he just didn’t dig a mixed race couple being happy. Period. Fokken rassis. If ever you read this, jou ouma se hele ou kont, né? I should have busted your head. Let myself down that night, I feel I haven’t strolled through black townships looking for the perfect kota, stared down whiteys at posh WASP venues when I enter with my sexy, young black lover, told black and white critics alike to go and fuck themselves generally, only to listen to some fucking conservative brown boetie give me shit at a public venue, a concert. Sometimes, I really yearn for the gun and the badge, man, just to be able to cuff them and ram a night stick up people’s arses when it’s so obviously the only valid response.
Anyway, the point… The point is, in a nut shell – where the fuck are the whiteys like me??? We’re all over, ja, us whiteys, maar by die jols of kerke of waddiefok ek ook al bygewoon het, was ek fokken aleen en hier’s die clincher: by fokken Bassline was ek so amper alleen! There was one white chick there. One. And me. I was blown away. No, I haven’t been there for maybe fifteen years but, God… It was kicking man. A fucking great jol! It just blew me away that I seemed to be the most enthusiastic attendee, for one – but that’s a separate issue I guess – the fact that everybody stood around kind of dull, watching, while the music was so rockarolla. But mostly, I was blown away by the fact that I was the only white male. Really? Waddiefok? I completely expected a good, mixed crowd, surely containing all of the guys like me who grew up with this in their lunchbox, surely a few old faces from Rockey Street, maybe my old bonghead mate Adrian… Jislaaik. Someone, something, some fucking ragga collection of whiteys who have this as their thing too… But, fucking no-one?

It left me with a desire to round up twenty whiteys next time and feed them into the venue so that I can be less startled. Maybe a hundred and twenty.

I’m venting a little and not substantiating much, I guess and can see now, as I reread what I’ve written, that the point is perhaps still obscure. Let me just conclude with this then: I was the only white male at a reggae night at Bassline the other night. If anyone can explain why I thought that would be impossible, please let me know. Whiteys are brave. Embarrassing sometimes, but brave in a cosmopolitan sense. Afrikaners is plesierig. How come I was alone there? White folk? Don’t you dig reggae? Isn’t the prospect of a mini Caribbean beach party something lekker?
I’m not the only whitey who would rock there. Any time UB40 comes on in any whitey venue, watch, because people move. That thing, that upbeat dance. Come, whiteys! Come stick it on Bassline next Thursday night!

Welkom by Vat Vyf! deur PK Malherbe waar hy ‘n lappie nuus neem en dit in 5 repies opskeur weekliks…

1. Gerugte loop sterk dat die Boswell Wilkie sirkus ‘n reuse borgskap van die ES-EINA-BEE-SEE oorweeg nadat die fokken nar-der-narre Hlaudi Motsoeneng hierdie week gewys het oor watter komiese vermoëns hy beskik. Gewoonlik as ‘n Klein hondjie op die mat pis, kan mens hom met ‘n opgerolde koerant tereg wys… maar waar die ANC se skoothondjie op mediavryheid pis, gaan dit nie werk nie, hoofsaaklik omdat hy besluit het die uitsaaier gaan nie meer koerante se hoofopskrifte herhaal op enige van die TV of radiokanale nie. Boonop oorweeg Ou Rooi-oog ook dat alle ES-EINA-BEE-SEE werkers voortaan uniforms moet dra want dit bevorder blykbaar eenheid. Baie soos skool. Ironies aangesien ons narrevriend tot nou toe nog nie sy matrieksertifikaat kan voortbring nie, al word hy al van 1996 af daarvoor gevra. As sy uniformpie idee voortgaan, wil ek dit waag om te spekuleer dat daar heelwat minder matriekafskeidrokke in geel, groen en swart gaan wees hierdie jaar.

2. Maar wag, daar’s meer… Hlaudi of die groot H (not to be confused with die groot Ha-Ha-Ha) reken toe ook mos hierdie week op radio dat hy nie glo aan wetenskaplike navorsing nie. Presies hoe hierdie karakter so vinnig soveel opgang gemaak het in die range van die openbare uitsaaier blyk ‘n groter geheim te wees as die resep vir Mrs Balls se blatjang en die kolonel se hoender. Maar anders as hul reseppies, speel hierdie resep vir ‘n volskaalse fokop af in full view van die land.
3. Amerika het laat weet dat Suid-Afrika op hul pasoppens moet wees vir moontlike tereurdade en dat winkelsentrums moontlik die teiken van terroriste gaan wees. Dit voorspel redelik kak vir Westgate en enige mall in Boksburg waar kamoefleerdrag nog so hoog mode is as dropped suspension. Moontlik ook in Waterkloof waar elke rykmanskind dink hulle is Da Bomb.

4. Die ANC Jeugliga kondig aan hulle gaan nou nie meer betoog by die Springbokke se wedstryde teen Ierland nie. Sekretaris-generaal Njabulo Nzuza het hul rede as volg verduidelik: “After an intense and exhaustive dialogue on the current situation in rugby, we were reassured that SA Rugby takes this matter as seriously as the ANCYL and that steps have been put in place to ensure that transformation continues apace in the game.” Quota unquote.

5. Die EFF het ‘n beroep gedoen op maatskappye wat spesialiseer in GPS-tegnologie om met hul in verbinding te tree aangesien hulle graag wil kyk na ‘n samewerkingsooreenkoms. Dit volg na die EFF in Orania opgeëindig het hierdie week en toe maar moes maak of dit beplan was. Ek kan nie dink dat Garmin hul samewerking gaan aanbied nie, want sweerlik kan daar niks goeds van kom deur net die hele tyd links aan te donder nie. Ook nie regs nie. Vra maar die spulletjie in Orania.

Siek fok.
Groete
Gys

Hierdie beauty gesien buite die Wimpy in Harties. Pragtige kar met fake gras en blomme vir ‘n pragtige blou kop tannie. Al bly jy in Harties beteken dit nog nie jy het klas nie.
El
Check hoe deuriekak is News24 – hulle het Luitetant Basil Seekoei se naam sommer direk gaan staan en vertaal vanaf ‘n Netwerk24 nuusstorie na Lieutenant Basil Hippo.
Joe
Watse doos het dit nou gaan staan en verf teen ‘n brug?
Ray
Zef Chev in Tjoeras op die N1 gesien. Check daai lekker plastic jet wat die bra op sy boot geplak het om die kar te laat “vlieg”. Hy is ook uitgekit met kakzef spinners.
Maude
Die Antwoord
Barry
So maak hulle in Die Strand
Hein
Die Afrikaanse Tannie Starter Pack
Brett
Zef poegie in Strand gesien. Totale koste R400. Kan glo vrou en kind vervoer.
Hein