Posts Tagged ‘moving house

03
Oct
12

Rocking The Daisies Must-See Bands (Part 3)

bloc-party-050629-799747Excitement for this year’s Rocking The Daisies 2012 is mounting party people! Three sleeps and I’ll be there, cracking open a cold one at Camp Tiger and letting the good times roll.

So in this, the last instalment of my must-see bands, I am going to be tackling the bands you can’t miss on the main stage on Saturday.

Sure, there are other stages and other bands I could be covering, but as mentioned before, I can’t research every band at the festival so if there are other acts you think deserve some love, hit me up in the comments section.

If you’re also in this for the long haul from Thursday to Sunday, then Saturday is either going to make or break the festival for you.

Thursday night you’re probably gonna go balls to the wall and the same goes for the entire day on Friday so by the time Saturday rolls around you’re going to feel like you need a blood transfusion to boost the level of blood in your alcoholstream.

 

 

The trick to getting Saturday right will be to take it as super easy as possible during the day. Go for a dip in the dam if you’re feeling brave, indulge in a hot Woshbox shower, get a hearty breakfast in you and down at least a litre or two of orange juice and as much water as you can handle.

Flush your system out, rest up as much as possible and don’t even think about hitting the sauce until at least 4 or 5 in the afternoon because it’s gonna be a looooooooooooooong night and you want to be as fresh as possible when the big acts of RTD12 take to the stage to melt faces.

Though the main stage kicks off at 10am, I’m probably only going to mosey on over there at 12.10pm to catch Southern Gypsey Queen (featuring Al Frost).

It’ll be a bit like holding a defibrillator to my chest, cranking it to 11 and hitting the “charge” button (watch the video below and you’ll see why), but I do love me some loud, bluesey rock and roll.

This is the band sans Mr Frost – throw him in there and you’ve got a guaranteed recipe for face-melting good times.

 

 

Dig that drummer. What a flippin boychay.

After that it’ll be time to grab a bite and head back to your campsite for some R&R in the shade. Or go have a float in the dam (inflatable lilos are a must. Or you could go the Tiger route and take an entire inflatable BOAT. Bada-BANG!).

At 2.20pm Moving House are lighting up the main stage, a supergroup of sorts consisting of Andre Pienaar (Ashtray Electric) and Rob Davidson (ex Zebra & Giraffe).

I haven’t been able to find any of their material, but if I can summon the strength, I’ll definitely go check them out just based on the merit of their two previous bands.

The next band to watch out for will be Jeremy Loops at 6.05pm, who is one seriously talented guitarist and songwriter.

As the name suggests, this guy’s loop pedal skills have to be seen to be believed. One man. One guitar. And here’s what he’s capable of:

 

 

Insane sheeit right?! People who use loop pedals like that fascinate me because if they fuck up one of the loops, the whole song falls apart. So yeah. No pressure.

After that it’s Desmond And The Tutus on the main stage, but I’m gonna leave that one totally up to you guys.

The new single (“Zim Zala Bim”) has been murdered on local radio to the point where when it came on 5FM the other day the guy in the lane next to me deliberately swerved into oncoming traffic.

But let’s not forget what these guys are capable of. Here’s “Tattoo” off their most recent album Mnusic in case you need some reminding:

 

 

After that, run away.

Arno Carstens is up next and he’s probably going to play material off his new album, Atari Gala which, if the first video “Two Dogs” is anything to go by, could very well send you spiralling into a post-90s, ballad-rock depression guaranteed to kill whatever buzz you might have been feeling up until that point.

My advice would be to go line your stomach and start drinking heavily. It’s time to up your game, once Arno clears out it’s going to be two and a half hours of bone-rattling badassery, starting with Shadowclub, the made-in-SA version of The Strokes.

 

 

Funny story is I interviewed these guys back in ‘08 before they skyrocketed to fame. I used to do this fucked up show on UJFM called The Tuesday Night Bandslam With Rick Hunter And Al Burton (I was Al Burton).

Myself and Graumpot would go around with a roving mic and arrange to interview bands in weird places like bowling alleys, the Zoo Lake, the planetarium and in the case of Shadowclub, the putt-putt course at Fourways.

Our sound equipment kept fucking out and Jacques from Shadowclub (frontman) had this look like he was smelling a fart throughout the interview.

Then we started playing putt-putt so we could record some funny, random shit like we did for all our shows but Jacques was so over it by that stage he just walked from one course to the next hitting his ball into the water, kicking it around and generally just making it known that he thought the whole thing was a load of shit.

 

 

We ended up throwing the interview in the bin. The bassist at the time (forget his name) felt bad and suggested we try again when Jacques was in a better mood.

Second time around, we just interviewed them at Fuel Bar one night before they got onstage to play a gig at Carfax. The interview went a lot better and Jacques seemed to be much more chilled until about 30mins in when he started laughing in this really creepy way and told us he’d taken a large quantity of acid before the interview that felt like it was kicking in.

Crazy cat that guy. In my experience a bit of a douche, but I can’t fault the band, especially not Isaac the drummer, he’s a real stand-up guy and one of the best drummers in the business.

 

 

After that, it’s time.

Get your head in the game, smash a tequila or three, go take a long pee, fight for a spot nice and close to the stage and steel yourself.

Bloc Party, this year’s headline act are up at 11.20pm and trust me, you are not gonna want to miss this one.

This band was instrumental in kick-starting the indie movement that’s been rolling out in its various guises over the last decade.

Here’s their best track, “Banquet” which I’ll be losing my goddamned mind to when they rock it live:

 

 

So those are my must-see bands on the main stage on Saturday, like I said before, holler if you think any other bands deserve a mention and I’ll gladly show them some love.

Otherwise I’ll try have a review up by Monday / Tuesday after the festival has ended, so watch this space because I have a feeling Daisies is going to be pretty damn epic this year.

You can still get tickets from www.webtickets.co.za so get on that if you haven’t already.

Oh, and if you see a guy with a Tiger on his head missioning around, don’t be a stranger Winking smile

-ST

24
Jan
11

SlickTiger:2 Moving:0

Compared to the shenanigans of Part 1, Part 2 of our epic move from Stellenbosch to Cape Town was executed with military precision.

In one day we managed to move every remaining stick of furniture loaded in a solid brick of stuff on the back of the bakkie I was borrowing from a buddy of mine.

It was every Tetris player’s dream – a double bed, a fridge, a two seater couch, a TV cabinet and a table all stacked and packed so perfectly together you couldn’t even squeeze a hand between any of the gaps and that was before Captain Albatross got to work tying it all down.

 

 

I now know that J-Rab and my life can be packed up, uprooted and moved anywhere in 3 car loads and 2 bakkie loads as long as one of those bakkie loads looks like this:

 

 

And so, by 3 o’clock on Saturday afternoon there wasn’t so much as one toothpick of our stuff left in the shed which over the past year we’ve come to call home.

Funny how you can still feel nostalgic about leaving a place that drove you completely insane every second that you lived there. Our little wooden house had a certain charm to it and when all the animals living around us finally shut the hell up it was peaceful out there.

I got some great writing done there. Sundays would roll around and J-Rab would go off to work and I’d get up early, make myself some fresh coffee and wander out onto our balcony into the blue morning and soak up the vineyard and mountains surrounding us.

We walked out to the secret dam near our house for the last time before we left. Captain Albatross, J-Rab and I stood looking over the giant Lillie pads that dotted the surface of the dam and watched some ducks float on by while a Cormorant swooped silently overhead and way off in the distance a car glided past on the R44.

I asked the Captain to get a picture of J-Rab and I before we left.

 

 

And so we left Stellies and finally moved to the Mother City to start a new chapter in our lives. My morning commute has now gone from roughly an hour to 6 minutes and the flat we’ve moved into has actual cupboards! And a kitchen! And a spare bedroom! And no rats!

Life couldn’t be better Winking smile

-ST

17
Jan
11

SlickTiger:1 Moving:0

They say that moving is right up there with the most stressful things life can throw at you like losing a loved one or getting fired. They’re all supposed to be on the same level which I always thought was a little over dramatic.

I mean moving ain’t that bad right? Load up a bakkie with all your stuffs, drive from A to B, offload, rinse, repeat.

 

 

So Captain Albatross and myself borrowed a bakkie from a buddy on Saturday and got rolling.

We loaded up two couches, a bookshelf, the washing machine (FAHK those things are HEAVY!), a couple of boxes, a heater or two, and tied it all down so tight you could pluck the ropes like guitar strings.

We nailed the drive from Stellies into Vredehoek and everything was easy breezy. We get to the other side and started unloading stuff and taking it upstairs and even that was going well until we hit one major fucking snag.

My one couch is fucking HUGE.

It’s the Triple H of couches, nearly two and a half metres of soft, maroon leathery goodness that is the most comfortable basterd I’ve ever had the pleasure of passing out on. I mean, I’ve written some of my BEST posts lying utterly inert on that radass couch. Through the good times and the bad, that couch has always been there, it’s like a long, large maroon extension of myself.

(That’s what she said.)

 

 

Anyway, you think we could get that couch up the narrow, twisty stairwell leading up to our flat? Not a fucking chance. We wrestled that thing, we twisted it, we pushed it, we tried to walk it up the stairs one goddamn step at a time and eventually all we managed to do was wedge it in there so tight, we couldn’t get it out.

Which was when we came up with our killer idea of removing the sliding doors to our flat and hoisting the basterd up the balcony with ROPES!

I love rope. I’ve always loved rope. The old-school hemp kind is the best. Soon as I get my hands on that shit I just wanna lasso a fucking horse or climb a mountain or hang a guy. Ropes are the answer to EVERYTHING!

 

 

So we set the couch down the way it would normally sit, made two loops around each side of the couch, went upstairs and got hoisting.

CHRONIC fail. Don’t try that shit without gloves yo! What the hell were we thinking?! Also the couch kept twisting and turning and refusing to cooperate in any way, so we set it back down and had a beer.

Second time around we got the bright idea of standing the couch upright to do the hoisting and tying ropes around it like ribbon around a Christmas present. Right about then, the dude who lives downstairs arrived home and offered to help us, which I found pretty hilarious considering he looked like about 70 kgs of cookie dough and admitted to having just come back from Ratanga Junction where he smoked a joint and went on all the rides by himself.

We told him to go upstairs with J-Rab and to hoist for everything he was worth while we pushed from the bottom. At this stage, drenched in sweat and tired from taking all the other stuff up the stairs, I was pretty convinced the couch was going to kill us all. Soon as J-Rab and the Ratanga Junction Stoner yoinked it up, the weight would pull them off the balcony and they’d end up landing, couch and all, right on top of me and the Captain.

“RIP SlickTiger. His favourite couch killed him.”

All I remember after that was dicking around with the ropes, checking they were all alright before we commenced the yoinking and then BAM! the couch was halfway up the building and into the lounge!

I bolted upstairs, grabbed a hold and helped the Ratanga Junction Stoner and J-Rab get the rest of it in and stared in total amazement at the RJS who had basically single-handedly pulled our entire couch up a second story balcony and into the flat faster than I could blink.

“Babe,” I said triumphantly to J-Rab, “whatever that man is smoking, I want some.”

 

 

I tell ya, you haven’t lived until you can honestly say you’ve yoinked a couch up to a second story balcony with ROPES!

SlickTiger:1 Moving:0

Next week we haul the final load so that’s the bed, fridge, other couch and TV cabinet, so stay tuned for the next enthralling update because you know as well as I do that there’s nothing better to do on a Monday morning back at work than read stories involving stubborn couches, Ratanga Junction Stoners and ROPES! 😉

-ST