Countdown to Oppikoppi

It’s just under a month until my favourite time if the year

A time where madness is mundane, alcoholism is acceptable and fun is enforced – yes, I’m talking about Oppikoppi, that wonderful dusty shithole that transforms into the epicentre of a whirlwind of music, booze and more dust just once a year.

In the words of my Cape Town homies – I’m poes-excited

This will be my third Oppi and I think I’m actually properly prepared this time round (although this is what I said last year)

Some changes from last year include:

A girlfriend

Condom catheters to minimise time wasted by trekking to the loo

‘Rocket Fuel’ intravenous nutrient bags, and 2 doctors to apply them

Acid, as opposed to mushrooms

A blow-up mattress that actually blows up

And a newly relocated Capetonian who will be experiencing her first Oppi ever. 

See you there prawns!

The Girl with Fame in Her Vagina

There is a girl in South Africa who has fame inside her vagina.

No, I’m not talking about a lady who spritzes Lady Gaga’s fragrance on her bits, but a female who literally bestows fame upon anyone who manages to bed her.

The theory goes like this: Cherry (we’ll call her that because she sounds like an 80’s hair metal groupie) lives in Johannesburg and is a good-looking and quite cool girl. She likes bands, and guys in bands. The guys in bands like her too.

Her morals are unbeknownst to this author, but it appears that should you bed Cherry, your band has a much better than average chance of ‘making it’

There have been at least three documented cases of guys in bands going out with Cherry, only for their success to skyrocket shortly after. The latest of these bands being Shortstraw.

Before all you budding folk stars pack up your busking box and high-tail it to Greenside, there’s a catch. You can’t simply have a one night stand with Cherry to achieve fame.

The current canon is thus: Cherry has a special gland deep inside her love canal. This gland, when stimulated, produces the Essence of Fame. The normal expression is not enough to make any difference, but luckily, it collects in the body and concentrates. This means that the longer you have sex with Cherry, the more Essence of Fame you collect in your body. All that is left after that is to start a band and wait to be successful.

Here’s a vagina bike:

I know the identity of this secret woman. If you’re a struggling artist, I will reveal her identity for one of the following methods of payment:

Money, Beer, Pot, Publishing rights to your work, Guest Vocal Slot, Songwriting Credit or just a shout-out in the liner notes.

Peace, Love and Death Metal

 

 

February 2013 – Love in a Time of Peppers

Morlocks, we are into the second month of the year. I’m can’t believe.

So far I think 2013 is going to be a cracker.

I’ve made a smattering of new friends this year, mostly from Twitter.

Remember the days when it was a bad idea to meet people from the internet?

Anyways, most of them are girls and I’d also sleep with most of them. Here’s looking at you ladies. Of course, now that I’ve said that I’ve probably been relegated to the freak folder. You don’t know what you’re missing ladies, ask my exes.

Here are some of the aforementioned sexy people from the tweetah:

We met to have beer and grope each other. I think Lwazi and Ricki are eloping to Mozam next week sometime.

Speaking of Lwazi, a finer gent you will struggle to meet. If he’s not married to Ricki in the next 2 weeks you ladies should meet him. Well, at least those of you who I don’t want to sleep with should meet him. He also has chocolate salty balls.

It was L-waz’s birthday over last weekend, and there was a bit of a ruckus over guest politics, you see Chad – from my previous post about being pussy-whipped and whose fiance remains the most hated woman in the Peterverse, and Jezza – a shorter, more grumpy, less cool version of Jeremy Clarkson have both decided that honesty and adulthood are things they don’t want to be parts of and pressured L-waz into nt inviting me to his birthday braai.

I warned him.

He phoned me the day after to confirm what I already knew. The party would have been more fun with me there. Well played fun vampires, well-played.

This did not concern me overmuch because I was still buzzing from RHCP. Thats the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s for the hard of thinking. I see a few people were bitching and moaning, but I’ll bet a substantial amount of Zim dollars that they had the cheap seats. Thats what you get for being a tightwad. Boo on you.

I took some powdered mescaline and although I did not see Alderaan or the Otherside, I still feel like it was one of the best concerts I have ever been to. The man who supplied the cactus said he wasnt sure of its efficacy, but that in small doses you feel mild euphoria. I don’t think the mescaline produced what I felt. It was legendary.

I lost all my homies and made some single-serving friends, who although younger, actually knew about albums before ‘Californication’

These two guys are legends- if you know them, tell them ‘sup.

In related news, my best homie and his wife are about to become parents- which I think is awesome. Good luck to Petra, Gaz and the little one, cant wait to meet here.

And finally, I am in love. Head over heels, heart pounding love. We met at work and it was love at first sight. She hasn’t been to my house yet and we haven’t done anything more than kiss, but she’s quite amazing. I call her the Lady in Red. Here’s a photo:

Have an awesome Feb guys, and if you’re lonely on Valentines… I’m having a pick and mix orgy at my house. xxx

January 2013: A Round-up

With February breathing in our face like a small yappy-type dog called Gaspode, I thought I’d take stock of how 2013 has gone so far.

1. On the 3rd of January, I made a decision to stop drinking.
This was based on the fact that when I saw myself in the mirror, I died. Literally, I have seen the other side and trust me- it’s not a place you want to spend eternity. Haha jokes.

So far the quitting drinking has resulted in one proposal of marriage, a couple high fives and no sex.
Dont quit drinking. It might be noble but it’s not sexy

2. Lance Armstrong
Fuck that guy

And lol at the Australian book stores who moved his books to the fiction section. Sick burn

2a. Oprah
Fuck her too. She has enough money and she’s retired. Fuck off.
Its your fault we’re even talking about Lance.

3. The ANC
Continue unabated to run our country like their parent’s bank account. We all know politics is about egos, but you’d swear the ANC are 15 years old, not 100. Throwing their toys out the cot every time someone potentially maybe just about insults them. Maybe if you governed you wouldn’t need to be defending yourselves constantly.

Interestingly, the company that teaches people to fish, Oxfam, says South Africa is more unequal now than it was at the end of apartheid.

…

…

Oh sorry, I was just waiting for the Youth League to comment.

4. Music
I started a new band and was blown away by Melody Kaye’s singing voice again. If she wasn’t already married I would hire an earth-moving machine to spade her on an industrial level.

I also caught Hagen Engler laying down some slam poetry at the Brazen head, after which we decided that the best number of guitarists in a band is 6,738 – no more, no less.

5. Dale
My cousin, @badtennis_ educated us all on why Rawson’s properties hates you. Like all his posts, it’s a great read- check him out on the tweeeeetah and wordpress. Badtennis.

6. Community Service
I’m a helpful motherfucker. Sometimes that help is to educate someone on their douchiness, sometimes its something that they can use. This month I explained to a friend that you can never understand girls and that each one is unique and different, but if you can make them laugh and you’re not a swamp donkey then you have a chance with them. Right ladies? Want to hear a joke?

What I realised in my various conversations with people having difficulties is that you always know inside yourself what the right answer is- but sometimes its the hard road and we’re all lazy and scared. Just do it.

RIP Kevin and Granny Maureen, you will be missed. January curse strikes again.

I’ll leave you with this thought:

My bad, you guys aren’t mind readers. You just put whatever you want in there.

2013 – A Welcome

Hello friends, strangers and people I want to fuck.

Welcome to 2013- the first year since 1320 when people scared of the numbers 20 and 13 are screwed.

I thought I’d be one of the last to welcome you to this year because you know, fashion.

Speaking of fashion- this year I predict Magenta and Floral Prints are going to be in for men, whereas the ladies are going to be going gaga for bondage gear. Its going to be a scorcher on the fashion front.

Sports-wise, the Proteas will continue to not make an impact in my life, whilst Bafana Bafana will rise to at least the bottom 7/8ths of world football teams.

The mighty Springboks will of course decimate all opponents, depending on whether they take my advice to all grow beards. Beards are power. It has been written.

On the music front, I predict that Taylor Swift and Adele will start a short-lived yet tumultuous relationship, lasting just 6 months but providing enough creative inspiration for at least 7 albums each. Expect tears.

In the political sphere, Zuma is going to reveal himself as one of the lizard-people David Icke writes about, only the Windsors and Bushes and other Illuminati lizard families will immediately disown him. This will pave the way for our own burger king, Cyril, to apply the MacDonalds way of thinking to our government. Of course this is SA MacD’s we’re talking about, so pretty much nothing will change.

I plan on making this, my thirtieth year on this earth, a goodie. I invite you all to join me. I’m going to be making shitloads of music this year and visiting Amsterdam in May/June, so keep reading and giving me sneaky reach-around handjobs.

Happy 2013 everyone!

TMI

We live in the information age. We are bombarded with information at all times. That’s why there are no ads on this blog. Keeping it real yo

Please let me know if that fooled any of you.

I remember an MTV ad about 7 years ago, that said we would see a thousand trillion media images by the time we were 16. Or 1 million a day. Anyway, it was a staggeringly large number at the time, but I think it pales in comparison to the barrage of information we are privy (or subjected) to in this day and age.

The answer to almost any question, from she male hookers with a nun outfit to the best stockbroker to handle your offshore portfolio or a she male stock broker, are a few clicks away. Thanks for the lulz Internet.

We are replete with information.

Epic Meal Time. Lolcats. The Arab spring. 419 scams. Facebook fucking timeline. These are all things that we could not have ‘enjoyed’ without all of this information and all of the people who are plugged in.

And that’s awesome. The Internet and the time we live in is within sight of a truly huge paradigm shift. The human race is poised for something, good or bad, that will Fundamentally change us as a species.

Or maybe I’m just stoned.

Nonetheless, there have been some casualties along the way. As easy as it is for people to be discovered and make a splash, the ripples they leave will echo in three months from now.

Life Expectancy of Youtube ‘Hits’

And this sucks. Imagine you are in a band, working your tits/balls off, and you see fucking Rebecca Black making more money than you have in you entire career. But worse than that, is that even if you write an amazing album, rock a stadium tour and get a deal, your music has been forgotten in as long as it takes for one of the other millions of acts to catch my attention.

So this is not a rant for original musicianship, this is a lament at the fact that songs, like all memes, are now a commodity with a very short expiry date. My soft spot for music aside, all ‘traditional’ fine arts are suffering. the amount of heart and effort that goes into these performances is incredible, and for their work to fade into the static of never ending information is the only reason… Oh shit! I just heard a dude playing a cover of ‘Call Me Maybe’ on a 16th century lute! You can find it on soundcloud.

See, Internet- you made Thom Yorke sad. Again.

Music to Move You

I was having a discussion with some friends the other night- a conversation about people. It started when we discussed online dating and long-distance relationships, and became more clear as we talked about planned parenthood and varying LSM’s.

We realised we are incredibly clever people. Like super smart. With diverse interests and well thought out opinions. You should date us.

But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about common ground.
You see, if you have ever had the (mis)fortune of trawling for prawns on an online dating site, or even if your parents met through a ‘lonely hearts club’ type organisation, I will bet you good money that at least 95% of the ‘Likes’ section of that person’s page will list either music, movies or both.

How original, you are entertained by entertainment, congratulations, you are human.

Have you ever heard of anyone who does not like at least one of those things? Besides maybe some extremists like the Amish, but even then I’ll bet you they jam our to washboard folk or something similar. You see music in particular does something to the very core of our being, it resonates with our soul and can leave blazing white-hot trails of emotion down our spine. It fuels us, and it inspires us, it can change the way we see the world.
Movies can also do this, but whereas I love Horror movies, many of my friends can’t stand them- but we all love Creedence and Queen. Music is a lot more universal than film.

One of my friends has a brother who doesn’t like music, except for some classical. And that’s ok. I don’t want to be left alone in a room with him, but I think we can still classify him as human. However, there was one gem I found online when I experimented with online dating. This girl had a fairly attractive photo (headshot only), and seemed to be intelligent, but there were 3 signs I should have taken note of:
1. She was/is an accountant
Accountants are important to business, but honestly I would rather have a party in a damp paper bag than go to dinner at an all accounting schindig. Oh and to those of you who are reading this that are accountants I’m sorry, I love you guys, I promise I will give you a big table of numbers to add up later
2. She did not like movies
At all. Not even ‘The Notebook’ or ‘The Land Before Time’ or ‘Forrest Gump’
Weird. Everyone reading this likes at least one of those movies, unless you are bodysnatchers from Dimension X (Say hi to Krang and the Neutrinos for me)
3. She DID NOT LIKE MUSIC
Nothing, nada, not even Enya or Yanni. No Simon and Garfunkle, no Beethoven. No Bob Marley, no Damien Rice.

This was a problem, because as we engaged over email and once on the phone, I was suspecting she had the personality of a sock.
The phone call confirmed it. Pretty enough girl, good education and career, but I would rather hit myself in the face with Justin Bieber than date someone who I can’t share music with.

Imagine your favourite song comes on, you’re on a roadtrip to a beach holiday and your favourite person is next to you. Dont you already want to sing into their faces with them? Wouldnt that be awesome right now?

So my message to you is to allow music to move you, let it nourish your inner humanity, and let your passion runneth over- Sing!

Bloc Who?

This will become relevant, trust me.

I said at the beginning of 2012 that I would make it a mission to see all of the international acts that came to my country this year.
Noble, you say? Yes.
Expensive, you say? Double yes.

Now let me make one thing clear before I slate some of your favourite artists- I fucking love music, and even have some songs of the artists I am about to slate on my current ipod playlist, so don’t tell me I’m taking it out of context or that I belong to a different sect or am the antichr- oh wait, that’s the theists who do that. Cheap shot.

No really, I love most music, but I’m about to explain why my noble resolution went to shit.

1. Little Dragon

I actually really like LD, but only started listening to them when I heard they were coming at the behest of my friend Kate.
I contemplated buying tickets but it was you, hipsters, who convinced me otherwise. I have slow reflexes and wouldn’t want my eyes poked out by waxed moustaches, feeling every contour of a strangers’ man-parts pressing into my leg through his skinny jeans and not being able to find parking because of all the fixie bikes. So fuck you, and fuck little dragon. Put that in your grandfather’s pipe and smoke it, bitch.

2. Bombay Bicycle Club

See above, only add the glaring light from the hipsters glasses frames blinding my sensitive eyes. In actual fact, I don’t even know if they did or are still coming to SA, I just shiver in fear of seeing all those horrible ironic chest piece tatts. Brrr. Mufasa.

3. Lady Gaga

I almost changed my mind when I saw a video of Lil Stephanie lighting up a fattie on stage in Holland, but then I got un-stoned. Lady Gaga is without a doubt a star- someone who markets themselves better than others of similar or more talent, much like my life in terms of music and writing. Are you reading this Harper-Collins and EMI? When is it my turn??

But Lady Gaga is also a fucking prawn- her music is filled with pop hooks and devoid of any substance, plus half the cockbags in South Africa are going to see her, along with ALL the lesbians and gays, and at least 72% of mindless “Little Monsters”

I have already proven that I know far too much about LG, so now on to another band starting with an “L”

4. Linkin Park

Be still my 1999 heart! Linkin Motherfucking Park!
10 years ago, this would have made me wet my pants, wring them out, leave them to dry and wet them again. But that was ten years ago. In the decade since then, LP have done their level best to sell out more than Green Day, Bon Jovi and U2 combined. And in many cases they have succeeded, but lack the talent to reach the success of these other ‘artists’

But it’s not the lack of relevance that irks me, it’s that the other 50% of douchebags have tickets to this concert- the more dangerous 50%. The ones with faded tribal tattoos who will view this concert as an excuse to go on “one more” coke binge, misunderstand the machinations of mosh pits and generally ruin whoever finds themselves next to them’s night. Douchebags. Wearing Ed hardy and Tapout T-shirts and screaming “Ke-rawwwwwwwling eeen muh skeeen!”

Fuck that.

5. The Drums

I don’t know who these people are and I am not afraid to admit it. My mind is open to being changed, but I sure as fuck am not amped judging by the people who are.

6. Bloc Party

If I could describe this band in one word, that word would be…

Bland.

Like plain oatmeal, or whole wheat toast.
As I am and have never been an “indie” kid, most of you will tell me that I don’t get it. I strenuously object. The Arctic Monkeys, Kooks, Babyshambles, Fratellis, Futureheads etc are all (I think) UK Indie bands that I would go and see, even fighting off the hipsters, but Bloc Party? Meh.
In fact- MEH.
Their songs, whilst well-crafted, do not stir my blood. They do not make my feet want to dance, nor my soul want to sing. They are pretty little tunes, but I do not think our kids and their kids will be idolising Kele and his crew 20 years from now, no sir.

Bands, and rock and roll- of which indie is a splinter faction- need to stir feelings, and the only feelings I feel when listening to Bloc Party are the feelings to change to a song that makes me care.

Sorry for all of the Bloc Party fans out there, and I know there are a lot of you- but I do not get it.
Enjoy watching Kele make out with men on stage and all, I’ll be somewhere in Jozi, devil horns raised and emotive, raw Rock and fucking Roll playing loud!

Please, Rock On!

Oppikoppi 2012 – The Aftermath

The Sweetest Thing

Its all over. We made it.

We made it through the dust, the drugs and the devil music. We made it through the hiking, hangovers and Jose. (Its an ‘H’ phonetically ok)
We made it.

Personally, this year was the best Oppi I have been too. Everything combined just made it incredible.
Here are some of the lessons I learned this year:

Having a shower whilst tripping is pretty amazing
18 grams of mushrooms are not too much for one man. They are far too much for one man.
Bring your own shade with you
Magaritas are a valid breakfast
The vegan food stall is the only place where vitamins live
Make as many new friends as you can
Take as many old friends with you as you can
Get there at least a day early
Babylon Circus, Tidal Waves, Thieve, Black Cat Bones, Shortstraw, Fridge Poetry, PHFat, Jeremy Loops, The Stellas, Eagles of Death Metal and Enter Shikari will make your face explode with awesomeness
Hug Attacks make everyones life better
Disco Jesus and the Christmas Chom will make a reappearance
Make sure you’ve packed your Johnnyboys and Dreamers- no one we asked had a single one of either.
Try not to poo. If you do, give yourself enough time to get to top bar.
Give. You reap what you sow.

To my new friends, Ben, Chad, Nick, Chrissy, Ricky, Lyle, Alex and Adam- thank you for being amazing. Chrissy and Cremer- you guys are legends.
To my old homies, thank you once again for being just as amazing. Phil, Vicky, Dave and Ryan- you guys partied like the rock stars you are.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and seeing as it has taken me almost 2 weeks to cobble this together- I’ll let the cameras do the talking. All credit to where it is due for these photos.

The Devil’s Dustbowl

Tom- Shortstraw

Carrie from Fridge Poetry- Mmm mmm mmm

Alistair – Shortstraw

Yes, yes I was.

From passed out to party in 15 seconds

The Christmas Chom and the Drunken Pope

I dont know who these people are. They are awesome though. Although he did drop my joint in his drink

Margaritaville’s finest

The Vanilsh Gorilsh

Disco Jesus and Flea

See you all next year. Hail Satan.

Oppikoppi – Prologue

The Holy Land

I seem to be addressing lots of posts to people who live under rocks lately.
Henceforth- Morloks.

My Dear Morloks

Oppikoppi is the oldest and most successful music festival in the world. San bushmen first discovered the Holy Site in the North West of what is now South Africa over 25, 000 years ago- and some allege that this is where they first cobbled together Riaan Cruywagen 1.0
In addition to creating excellent and timeless newsreaders, Oppikoppi also falls along ley lines that connect it to EVERY OTHER MUSICAL FESTIVAL IN THE UNIVERSE- a sight which results in visitor’s psyches being altered forever, in many diverse and pleasurable ways which may or may not include hallucinations and delusions of actually being a San bushmen.

Other delusions may include thinking you are a gay bear- and may result in attempts at homosexual bear sex- as seen below.

Bear Sex- You could be it’s next ‘victim’

Oppikoppi, as we know it, is a 3 day festival of ‘music’ – but it goes further than that. It is 3 days of human bonding- in the biblical sense, on a psychic level and of course the special bond only humans can share- the bond of music. Music is the glue of the world, according to Mark from Empire Records- and nowhere else is this more true than at Oppikoppi. Generally when people who don’t know each other get together and imbibe various intoxicating substances there is a level of aggression, especially in the fast-paced, high-pressure world we find ourselves in. Well, if you’re from Joburg at least.
At oppikoppi, this happens:

I dont actually know anyone in this picture

It’s difficult to explain Oppi to people who havent been. These guys try:

I am no longer an Oppikoppi Virgin

http://www.tailsofamermaid.com/2011/08/oppikoppi-what-to-take-brought-to-you.html

And the best Oppi survival guide I have read: http://www.mojodojo.co.za/2011/08/02/oppikoppi/

I’ve been to many music festivals around the world, and I can confirdently say that most don’t even hold a candle to our beloved Oppi. Organisation of world-class standards, excellent food, cheap drink, brilliant bands and a devil-may-care attitude of all the disciples. It’s as if the laws of the country outside of the farm don’t exist from the moment you snap the bangle round your wrist.

Last year I saw rastas asking cops for directions with a massive joint in their hands, I saw dudes braaing someone else’s chicken for them at 4am. I shared my tent with strangers, I slept in strangers tents. It was like a magical hippie music wonderland.

If you cant tell, I’m excited.

Last year I almost broke myself because I partied too hard, so this year I plan on taking it easy, taking lots of photos and educating you all further. This is the prologue.