Maria Moctezuma & Rayna Avila | Friday, October 26th 2024, Live @ Muztic, Mechelen.
I know. I have said this time and time again. โThis was the best show I have seen (this year).โ But this time, this time it might actually be true. It is hard to decide when you see so many wonderful things as I do, but this one, this was something else. Iโd heard about Maria last year from Ann, who has never steered me wrong in her recommendations, but sadly I couldnโt go that time. After last night and knowing that coincidence doesnโt exist and itโs all about the synchronicitous roller coaster I am on, I understand that it wasnโt the time then.
We arrive at the location and are immediately blown away. How can this have existed in my city without me knowing about it? The very warm and inviting space, a beautiful outside area and the cosy cellar stage bode well for what is to come.
Reyna Avila, a Mexican artist who now lives in Antwerp sets off, telling us all about the theme of the night Dia de Los Muertos. Loyal readers of this blog already know how enamoured I am with this concept and how it fit into last yearโs purple thread of music I had followed. It wonโt surprise you to learn then, that I felt the tears well up from the first impeccable note she sang. Thereโs no way I can find the words to fully explain the why, so I will let the video speak for itself.
She follows up with another heart wrenching traditional Mexican song about a cicada. Reyna tells us that the moment you hear the cicada sing is right before it is going to die. She tells it to hush because she doesnโt want it to die, but if it does, she wants to go with it singing into death. I, along with the rest of the crowd are listening breathlessly and it feels like weโre all living in an impossible bubble in time and space. Unencumbered about anything that might be happening outside of it, soothed wholly by Reynaโs amazing voice.
Maria weaves her way through the crowd wearing a majestic feathered headpiece and blowing a beautiful eerie sound on a conch shell, her gorgeous dress swaying to her delicate movements. She starts setting the scene with her loop pedal, effortlessly tapping the buttons with her bare feet. It creates a magical ritualistic atmosphere and the crowd is listening completely spellbound. The spell is broken for a fraction of a second when she starts to sing, if only because her voice adds another layer to that otherworldly sound.
Maria has an incredibly versatile voice and vocal range that engulfs the audience in a tender, warm embrace. Not to mention the graceful ease with which her fingers dart in complicated, frantic patterns over the necks of her guitar, bass and accordion. There is no better place to be than right here and right now and Iโm basking in this moment, hoping it can last forever.ย
When Maria invites us to think of the people weโve lost to sit alongside us and share in the energy I just about lose it. Iโm sitting next to Jo who has lost his beautiful wife Binne only ten days earlier. This is what I meant when I said it wasnโt the time to see her last year. The added layer of feeling and hearing the music and incessant symbolism crashing over Jo, comforting him in this difficult time makes this all just that much more beautiful. You can just feel the energy in that small cellar change, it feels like a religious experience.
Shout out to local lad Udo who joined them on stage for a bit accordion in hand.
I could go on and on trying to find the words to describe this night, but the words truly escape me. During the break and after the show, I can barely string two words together coherently and have to communicate with just sighs and saying what the fuck. (Hence the title of this blog.) Iโll just let the music speak for itself and end this off by imploring you to go see these two breathtakingly beautiful women every chance you get. I know I sure will.
September 22nd had been excitedly marked in my calendar since April, when I saw Clyde McGee open for Pete Bernhard. As with Pete, I knew the band by music, but not the individual members, so I only found out Clyde was one of The Bridge City Sinners on that fateful day in Hulshout. He told me about the Sinnersโ European tour in September and October and I was BEYOND stoked to see a Belgian date. I was even more thrilled to be able to share this experience with my newfound friends Iโd acquired through the synchronicity of music since his solo performance.ย
I was planning on taking an entire day to get ready, dolled up and taking my sweet time going to Ghent. Afterwards driving on to the Belgian coast for a much needed holiday. Alas, fate decided otherwise as an unforeseen and also unmissable event was planned on the same day. My stress level was through the roof in the weeks and days beforehand trying to get my head around a literal (no, really!) rollercoaster of a day into a night where I had to drive myself to a city I didnโt know very well. Let me tell ya, all that stress was so fucking unfounded, when I think back on it now it is almost amusing.
The day of started earlier than usual and I faced fears I had talked myself into over the years. I used to be brave and fearless, but over the last years depression and battle with neurodivergence had made me small. Small and afraid of EVERYTHING. Doubting I could do ANYTHING. The day was a therapy group outing to an amusement park and to say I was DREADING all of it would be the understatement of the century. Luckily, therapy is teaching me how to face my fears head on. So I did. In line for the first roller coaster, I was hopping from one leg to another, thoughts racing this way and that. I eventually decided to just get over it and DO it, and got on the fucking roller coaster. It was scary at first, but then it was EXHILARATING! After that, I still felt a little trepidation getting on a new coaster, but by the end of the day I was unstoppable. I had faced my fears and WON, telling my brain to shut the fuck up and it actually shutting the fuck up. I had an AMAZING day and was living on adrenaline alone.
In getting home, the adrenaline unfortunately wore off and I was tired from all the mental and physical gymnastics of the day. So getting ready for the show felt like I was moving in slow motion while getting anxious again for the drive through traffic and rain, on a road I was not familiar with, in a time frame that would mean I would almost definitely miss the opener. I was sad but resigned to the fact that I wouldnโt get the full experience of this night I had been looking forward to for almost 6 months.
I managed to get my ass on the road eventually and powered through those fears to eventually arrive at my destination. In a daze, I hurriedly speed walked from my parking spot on the outskirts of Ghent to the venue, when I abruptly stopped in my tracks in awe of this quote on the building. Good thing I halted, because in my haste I had almost run past where I actually needed to be and made myself even later.
First I feel I need to emphasise what an AMAZING place Trefpunt is. As if I wasnโt sweaty enough already from the walk there, the indian-summer heat inside was enough to almost melt me away. So yeah, it was sweaty as fuck, punk as fuck but filled to the brim with a merry band of misfits that oozed Purple vibes. It felt like coming home to a room full of strangers. And then I spotted my musical friends I made this year and the last ounce of stress and self-doubt fell off of my sweaty shoulders. I HAD MADE IT!
I even made it in time for the opener Tuesday Violence and HOLY HELL I am so glad I did. A three headed band started during lockdown. You have Daveney, originally from the Netherlands but emigrated here 9 years ago, on drums & vocals. Bruxelloise Crystal is on organ (!) and vocals and Niels from Ghent is on guitar. The sound they produce together is almost indescribable. I wrote it up as incredible punk & roll but they describe it as primitive garage punk. Call it what you will, I will just refer to their sound as extraordinarily FANTASTIC. Crystal & Deveneyโs voices were reminiscent of some of my favourite female punkers, like Brody Dalle & the ladies from Maid of Ace. The energy of their set was exhilarating and set the pace for the rest of the night.
Crystal, Deveney and Niels + yours truly
Aside from being fired up on stage, they were super nice and kind off stage. I got to talking to Deveney & Crystal who told me all about how they started and the amazing backstory on that beautiful organ she was playing on stage. My reference to Maid of Ace (another experience I still have to write about) led to vague plans for a possible ALL FEMALE (and Niels) double bill of both Tuesday Violence & the Maids at the Black Flamingo! (Fingers crossed we can set this up for 2024.)
In the meantime: check out Tuesday Violence newly released album!
Talking to these ladies was such intriguing fun, we almost missed the start of The Bridge City Sinners set! Time to run back in and claim a place for a piece of musical history Ghent will not soon forget. My lackadaisical approach to picture/video taking should tell you how good of a night it really was. These are meant as mere mementos more than actual good visual and/or auditory representation.
My notes start off with a simple OMG. Because Oh My unholy GOD, if I thought I already adored The Bridge City Sinners on record, itโs a WHOLE other thing seeing them live. I am staring at that stage in ABSOLUTE LOVE and AWE of the glorious mayhem of strings and vocals. The music feels so much more layered while seeing it live, because you can pick apart all the scrumptious little details. I made a video that gives only a vague idea about how epic of a performance it was. (Trust me, it does the evening NO justice at all, but it may give you a slight idea as to what you’ve missed.)
There is just so so much fucking talent on that ONE tiny stage! They all sing (and very well I might add), they all play multiple instruments which they casually switch during the set, like itโs nothing. From banjos to fiddles, from guitars to dobros; topped with a standing bass and a side of madness.
Aside from the Sinners, they all have several other bands and solo projects going on. Thatโs the thing about good music. Itโs not just a series of notes and words reiterated on a stage. Good musicians and bands LIVE for their music. They breathe the music like it is their oxygen, and every night they play, they exchange that life force with their audience. Only to get recharged night after night and in the meantime honing their skills and getting more extraordinary with every gig.
This is what is happening here, itโs a band of exceptionally talented and dedicated musicians who LOVE what they do and the people they do it with. Every one of them gets their chance to shine on stage, with the wonderful Libby as a master of ceremonies directing her friends to their own spotlight. My hazy notes tell me I was again very much impressed by Clydeโs voice and taken aback when he started grunting during one song. The banjolos(not one BUT AT LEAST TWO) were mentioned as well. I was also very impressed by Lightinโ Luke and his fiddlework and something else he was doing because I wrote down โThe fuck is he playing? Woap wap?โ. Alas, I have no clue what I am referencing here, but all of these weird obscure scribblings just prove it was such a good show, I lost all sense of making sense. And thatโs the way I like it.
My notes do however mention my admiration of Joey Steel, who acts as the tour manager for The Sinnersโ European Vacation. Heโs running around before, during and after the gig, setting everything up so that the band can just focus on doing what they do best. Meanwhile, he still makes the time to greet me with a big hug, in between all his hauling around and setting up. Joey Steel, hardest working man in showbiz and still so fucking nice!๐ (Weโll even forgive him for turning on the venueโs lights for that one brief moment where he paused and leaned against the wall!)
Near the end of their set, there is one special moment where Libby dedicates the following song to Tomas, their friend and the lead singer of Profane Sass who died on the road. The song was written for him, upon learning of his untimely death. The ways she talked about him and in reading up on him, it seems he was one of those one of a kind, magical people who radiated goodness and life force all around. He lived for the music and what that music could bring to people. I never knew him while he was alive, but itโs beautiful to see heโs still on the road, through his friends and touching people’s hearts.
The set up until then had already been absolutely amazing, but this was a beautiful moment that put the cherry on top. A moment of musical synchronicity for me, especially when she sang the words โOut of the darkness and heading out to seaโ. I reflected on my own journey out of the darkness surrounding death and my journey ahead to the sea. The lyrics would prove to be even more synchronicitous a few days later when I yelled them into the surf. Itโs one of those moments I will never forget. A moment, a story, a song and a band etched onto my soul forever.
The Bridge City Sinners probably donโt even fully know just how phenomenal and rare it is what they do, what they bring to their audience. If they do, it certainly doesnโt show in their attitudes because the Sinners I got to talk to are wonderfully down to earth.
There are no accurate words to describe the atmosphere in that venue, which was bulging at the seams at this impossibly perfect event. The band said it themselves, this would probably be the last tour theyโll be able to play smaller and more intimate venues like Trefpunt. I am SO ecstatic I got to be there, to experience up close and personal the intoxicating chaos and fury with which the Sinners approach their live sets.
After the show I still have a ways to go even though I wrote down that I am not sure just how my legs are still functional. I am completely running on fumes and adrenaline. I walk back to the car with Jo & Tiho through a calm and peaceful city and drive up to the coast where I still find a last mere ounce of fuel to unload all my shit. I then collapse onto the bed for a happy and well earned slumber, not yet fully aware of the catharsis I just experienced and the one that still lays ahead.
This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me. Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another. And thatโs how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember.ย
In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage. With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life. The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my self.ย
I’m writing this all down so I can finally learn to remember to never forget. Because it is so easily forgotten. I am posting this from a place where I am on the brink of having forgotten again. Where I can barely believe the words I have written here myself. Where all I want to do is shut out the world entirely. I am desperately retraining my mind to latch onto the positives as eagerly as it embraces the negatives. Searching for an upward spiral of sorts, away from the abyss. So here goes.
Around the time of Gipsy & Kielโs tour, there is a lot going on in my life all at the same time. Life usually is a bit messy at the best of times, but this period contains a combination of stressors which make it even more difficult. Part of that mess is the fact that it is September, and almost a year ago that I had lost my father to a devastating disease. Remembering the feelings from sitting by his sickbed, seeing him turn into a shadow of his former self is weighing me down. During the year I had found him looking on in the musical synchronicity, which had helped me tremendously in my grieving process.
I was starting to lose the connection. In the turmoil I found myself in, I started to roll back into old habits and feelings of hopelessness. I was still bathing in the music, revelling in its beauty. But I lost track of what had been the most important about it, what it actually signified. The hope of another life, another me who was strengthened and lifted up by the music as a sort of harness against the perils of the world. I still felt the beauty, but no longer the surge of strength it brought me. I could feel myself slipping away again in all the wrong coping strategies.
Iโd nearly hit bottom again. I was losing myself in grief, sadness and anger and could feel my sense of self become smaller again. After another awful day where the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness prevailed, everything inside me was screaming to stay in and shut myself away from the world. But I didnโt, I forced myself to go against that feeling and I went to The Black Flamingo instead. I let myself drift on the waves of music that Gipsy and Kiel brought with them. I got to feel that warm hug of those Purple people around me again. (And that one guy, but you know, sometimes it takes something appalling to let the good shine out even more. I was intently protected from his aura of awful by those around.)
It didnโt really sink in until the show on Monday though. Iโd felt my dad there again, in The Black Flamingo. In the music. I heard it again in de Floeren Aap. He would have absolutely loved Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove. While hanging out with Ann we were talking each others ears off about just about anything. And it hit me, these are the types of people I need in my life. Full of positive energy, dreams and crazy life plans. Full of an all consuming LOVE and ADORATION for things. Around people like this, I donโt have to put bits of myself away. I donโt have to wear a mask or pretend, I get to wear my heart on my sleeve, where it should be!ย Somewhere the conversation turned to the tattoo Ann had of Dante, the dog from Coco. I had been contemplating watching that movie again because I was thinking of my dad and all those who went before him.
When the day of the third Gipsy/Kiel show came and my body screamed at me to give it some rest, I decided to give in to self care and self comfort. With a blanket and cat at the ready, I put on Coco and floated away in a world of music and colour.ย
It underlined everything I have lived and learned through music since March. A story of a grieving process through finding myself again, finding my way to my people again and with music as a giant Purple thread throughout all of it. Coco is all about honouring your dead and speaking their name. Itโs about destiny. Of going against the grain, about not just following the road of what is expected of you. About a belief in yourself that you cannot let go.ย ย
Music is part of my destiny, in one form or another. Music as the fuel for my words and art. Music as a life force driving me from one place to another, discovering the world and its people. Music as a form of therapy, mindfulness and anti-depressant. In making it myself eventually. (Though I have still yet to successfully form or keep a band.) Itโll always be there alongside of me, in one form or another. I need to keep seeing it, feeling the fuel of it.ย
My road seems riddled now with little reminders to it. At the end of the month, the day of the wild Bridge City Sinners gig, I am on a group outing. Suddenly, I am surrounded by the colour and wonder of Coco in this Dia de Los Muertos decor.
I smile and walk through it. Putting in my earbuds and FEELING the music that is playing.ย I want and NEED to learn to keep my eyes and ears open for these reminders of the beauty. It’s so easy to miss it all in the overwhelm when your senses get glazed over by the mist of darkness.
So I am leaving this note here. As a light, a shining beacon of how it can be, if I remember to REALLY see.
Klein Julieke was al vroeg fameus gefascineerd door griezel, gruwel en mysterie. Van de Griezelbus naar de Kippenvel reeks. Van de heksen van Roald Dahl zo goed als meteen richting Stephen King. (Het mocht nog niet, maar ik leende mijn vaders bibliotheekkaart lang voor de bib me King-rijp achtte.) Naar de X-Files mocht ik dan weer niet kijken, maar stiekem hielden Scully en Mulder me toch gekluisterd aan het scherm. UFOโs waren daar de rode draad, maar de mystieke en bizarre wezens in de monster-of-the-week afleveringen vond ik toch altijd het meest meeslepend. De recente opleving van creepy ghost stories in series als The Haunting of Bly Manor en op een geheel ander niveau Stranger Things en remakes van klassiekers als IT doen mijn horror-hartje heropleven.ย
Zitten er mythes, monsters en toverkollen in de boeken, films of series die ik verslind? Dan is de kans groot dat het me zal bekoren! De Mechelse Gruwelverhalen wandeling van Mysterieus Mechelen stond dan ook al JAREN bovenaan op mijn bucket list. Hoog tijd om eindelijk eens mee te lopen door het mysterieuze verleden van mijn favoriete stad! Afspraak aan het Opsinjoorke op de Wollemarkt (Voor de niet-Mechelaars, die kerel is eigenlijk al een gruwelverhaal op zich, maar goed, daarvoor zijn we niet hier!) op een uiterst aangename na-zomeravond in de herfst. Beginnen onder het licht van mijn favoriete toren. Ik kan het niet laten om, voor de mogelijk al honderdste keer, nagenoeg dezelfde foto te nemen van die toren die zoveel jaren geleden mijn hart heeft gestolen en ondertussen symbool staat voor thuiskomen.
Mechelen bruist vanavond van de activiteit, maar de geluiden van de stad verdwijnen al snel naar de achtergrond, als decor voor de duistere verhalen die gids Erwin Horckmans met heldere en goed dragende stem belicht. Normaal gesproken ben ik razendsnel afgeleid door wat er rondom mij beweegt, maar hier word ik meteen helemaal opgeslorpt door de kronieken van mijn stad!
Ik moet eerlijk bekennen dat ik bij het horen van de historiek rond de boerenkrijgers en hun massagraf รฉven was geschokt. Ik verwachtte me aan โonschuldigeโ fictieve horror, geen waargebeurde verhalen over oorlog, dood en verderf van mijn medemens.
Gruwelverhalen indeed, griezelen dat doen we wel met Halloween!ย
Bon, kleine mentale switch dus, maar top-gids Erwin maakt dat er van teleurstelling geen moment sprake kan zijn. Zijn levendige en visuele manier van vertellen zorgt er al snel voor dat ik het gevoel heb dat we over zijn schouder meekijken, langs de eeuwen heen. Ik voel me een anachronistische toeschouwer in het Mechelen van de 17e eeuw en beleef mijn stad op een heel andere manier. Los van de gruwel in de verhalen, zit er ook veel geschiedenis in verwerkt en ik heb hier enorm veel bijgeleerd over mijn stad. Het voelt een beetje onwezenlijk dat er achter de prachtige gevels van die gebouwen die ik al zo vaak van buitenaf bewonderde, zoveel afschrikwekkende gebeurtenissen hebben plaatsgevonden.ย
Een brandstapel aanleggen is niet zo maar ‘vuurkestook’. Om een efficiรซnte crematie der Tooveresche te voorzien is er werk aan de winkel. Gids Erwin overloopt de handleiding!
De historiek van de Mechelse heksen en hun vervolging is boeiende materie voor iemand als ik, met enerzijds een voorliefde voor Tooveresche, (zoals ze in de Mechelse heksenvervolgingsvonnissen, nog steeds te raadplegen in de stadsarchieven, worden genoemd.) en anderzijds een redelijk feministisch en atheรฏstisch kantje. Eรฉn van de redenen waarom ik zo veel hou van Terry Pratchett (lees alhier zijn ode) is zijn voorliefde voor dit soort verhalen รฉn zijn HEERLIJKE heksen. Stuk voor stuk intelligente vrouwen, ver voor op hun tijd, verketterd door de clericale patriarchie. (Donโt get me started, because you will not shut me up. Ontdek ze vooral zelf, van Granny Weatherwax tot Tiffany Aching, topwijven stuk voor stuk! <3) Dat kwam voor mij ook wel op de voorgrond in de verhalen die Erwin uitkoos en hoe hij ze ten berde bracht. Ik was dan ook niet verwonderd te horen dat zijn fascinatie voor het betere spookverhaal in de mistige vlakten en donkere pubs van het Verenigd Koninkrijk was ontsproten.
Halte ‘De Duvelkes’ of het Duivelshuis (Mechelen)
De verhalen over arme boerenjongens in de oorlog en de heksenverbrandingen zijn dan wel vaak zware kost, Erwinโs gitzwarte gevoel voor humor en sappige omschrijvingen halen de scherpste kantjes er wel af. Ook de afwisseling met enkele spookverhalen en mythische monsters als de Nekker, maakt het iets minder donker aanvoelen, daar in de schaduwen van onze stad.
Ik ben alvast grote fan en loop zeker nog eens mee met een van de andere wandelingen van Mysterieus Mechelen. (De volgende staat al met stip in mijn agenda te pronken!) Tussendoor heeft Erwin me ook enorm getriggerd om zelf te gaan graven in de krochten van het mysterieuze verleden van mijn stad.ย Ideale hyperfixatie voor de komende winter, lijkt me!
Alle praktische info rond aankomende wandelingen vind je op de website van Mysterieus Mechelen. Niet twijfelen, gewoon doen! (Als je durft, mwoehahahaaaa!)
PART THREE- SCENE SIX Monday, September 25th, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. SEASIDE BUNKER IN THE DUNES, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – EVENING
My trip into the Flanders Fields left me feeling dejected. Even though it had been a nice day out, both in a trip and weather sense, I felt the weight of death on my shoulders. The deaths of all those soldiers, fighting a war others waged for them. Seeing those graves in Steenkerke with all those young boysโ names and the memorial in Ramskapelle got me in a gloomy mood. And of course, closer to home and heart, all the memories of my dad dredged up by those two places left me feeling disconsolate.ย
While catching my breath on the terrace, I see this beautiful rainbow in the sky. Aside from the music, the number three and feathers, thereโd been a lot of synchronicitous rainbows this year too.
I take it as a sign for me to venture out again, clearing my head of the contemplative cobwebs. Another sunset stroll on the beach it is. This time I walk away from Nieuwpoort beach, in the direction of the Ter Yde Dunes nature reserve in Oostduinkerke.
It starts off as another magical walk, reminiscing on the beautiful musical rainbows. I have yet to regale you with the tale of meeting the beautiful ultra-purple person that is Joey Henry, whom I met somewhere at the start of August. I havenโt had the time to find the right words to describe the two nights I spent with him and his music. They will roll out in due time.
Letโs just say that aside from being an immensely talented musician, heโs also a phenomenal photographer. I snagged one of his prints, Kansas rainbow included, at the first of his shows I saw at Den Oude Ketel. (Yes, the very same spot where I saw that other impossible rainbow months earlier, after that magical James Hunnicutt set.)
Kansas Rainbow print by Joey Henry
All this to say, I had rainbows, music and photography on my mind. So I channel my inner puddle & cloud photographer as I set off along the empty shoreline, singing loudly.
I see the bunker and walk back up the beach and climb to the crest of the dunes. I sit and rest, taking in the amazing sight of the sunset from my vantage point.
I decide to walk back before I lose the light completely. I put in my earbuds and start my playlist at random when of course, none other than โIn the Mirrorโ by The Interrupters starts playing. The song that started off this series, and the one I was singing just moments earlier.
I wander further along the waves, howling along to Raised by Wolves. This is so cathartic I decide to delve deeper into the melancholy.
James Hunnicutt live at The Black Flamingo (With Fritz and the Reverend from Whiskey Dick)
I start off with โDonโt let teardrops fill your eyesโ by James Hunnicutt and of course, teardrops start filling my eyes, like this song invariably seems to do.ย I send him a text scolding him for this awfully amazing song and thanking him profoundly for what it keeps doing to me. ๐๐๐
It leads me to the playlist we played at my dadโs funeral starting with โDe Grote Voyageโ by Willem Vermandere, whose house I just sat in front of earlier that day.
Iโm sobbing and laughing, feeling everything all at once. A beautiful mess of BIG emotions. I scream the lyrics into the void of the sea. I walk on with โWeโll meet againโ by Johnny Cash in my ears. It feels like my father is looking on and saying to me, though Johnnyโs baritone timbre:
“Keep smiling through Just like you always do ‘Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away”
We’ll Meet Again – Johnny Cash
So I walk on. With a smile on my face. Deciding to go for some fries at a snackbar with a cute dog in their logo.The nice purple people saw I was taking a pic and invited the critter himself over.
The dog is named Gaspard, and he reminded me (in more ways than one) of Gaspode from Discworld, only one of my favourite characters in the series. I mean. Talk about everything being connected. (In MY mind at least. Itโs a special place inside my skull, I like it here, even though it is always just a little on fire.)
He starts cuddling up to me and I am sobbing while smiling again. One of the last conversations I remember having with my dad, is about cuddling up to a dog and the horse Iyota from hippo-therapy and telling him how happy it had made me. And him reponding thoughtfully ‘They know, you know, they sense it’ even though I never truly told him how dark the thoughts beforehand had been. I love you, Gaspard people and especially you my little doggo friend! (Great fries too!)
After another doggie selfie, this time with the Nieuwpoort Saint-Bernard, who fills me with SO MANY youthful family memories again, it is time to go back home.
I fall asleep like a log and wake up in the middle of the night. I go onto the balcony for another breath of fresh air and drink in the silence. And just as I think to myself โAll is quiet on the Western Frontโ, I see a fisher boat with a huge flock of LOUD seagulls in tow.
I see you dad, I hear you. Good night.ย
PS: The title of this blog refers to yet another song. About death. Suprise. It didn’t fit in with the rest of the sentiment of this post so I added it here, as an aside. I’d say ‘enjoy’, but it is definitely not that type of song. It is pretty damn haunting.
Every time we came on a family trip to the coast, there was one specific trip inland. A visit to the city of Veurne and/or walking through the sleepy fields of Oeren nearby. A walk to the MiniPri where we got to pick out ONE TOY. It was a HUGE toy store in my memory, but turns out to be a store with one toy aisle. (Time has stood still there, they still sell Britney Spears & Eminem posters from the early nillies. Itโs a little weird, but comforting nonetheless.)
So my search for treasured memories drives me inland today, to the quiet town of Steenkerke in that same region.
When I was old enough to go to the coast myself, my dad gave me the same advice every time: โJul, you have to go to Steenkerkeโ. And then when I was there, a message: โJul, have you been to Steenkerke?โ. It had everything to do with his love for music and art, which combined itself in the Flemish artist Willem Vermandere. A philosopher, poet, writer, etcher, painter, sculptor and a singer-songwriter with an impressive oeuvre.
Two years ago, I finally listened and fell deeply in love with the artist whoโd Iโd only heard of in passing before. I read (and immediately bought) his book Als โt maar Geestig is and set off to discover his hometown Steenkerke.
On the way to and from there, I was entranced by his music that fit so well with the scenery of the Flanders Fields. Some of it light-hearted, but some deeply rooted in the horrible happenings in those fields, like the album Altijd iemands vader, altijd iemands kind(Always someone’s father, always someone’s child). It’s a true masterpiece of musical storytelling.
In Steenkerke, like in so many places around West-Flanders, thereโs a military graveyard from the first World War, with graves of too many young men who lost their lives in a cruel and useless war. (Like there is any other kind.) This visit in 2021, combined with my journey to Ypres, where I was moved to tears by the daily tribute of The Last post at the Menin gate, inspired me to make my own piece of protest-art.
Within this collage I sprinkled in some music which reminds me of the wars of my lifetime. The ones fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, after 9/11 happened, which in turn made me VERY conscious of world politics. The skull is made up of the lyrics to the heartwrenching song Hero of War by Rise Against and I added in the title of Let them Eat War by Bad Religion.
It was reading Willem Vermandereโs book that drove me to enrol in the Art Academy, where I found joy in creating again after a very long hiatus. This was the first piece I made after some dark years where I lost my passion for creation. In a way, Vermandere was the instigator for the Clumsy Crane Studio Instagram that now also includes my great love of writing. The music has ALWAYS been a common thread on the page, all my own favourite pieces of art were inspired by or named for songs.
Back to Steenkerke. My plan for today was to spend an afternoon on the terrace of his favourite pub, one he wrote this song about. (It was the place where I bought the book and enjoyed a nice local beer on the last my last visit, as pictured above.) Alas, this being after the high season, the cafรฉ was closed for a yearly holiday. I saw my plans for writing with the church in back of me, his house in front of me and his spirit near me fade away. But then I find this spot in the grass and decide to start writing there, overlooking the polder.
The sound of nature takes over and I realise this is the better option. Writing with a bunch of bike tourists surrounding me would have been another experience indeed. All I hear now is the wind gently caressing the leaves of the trees and about ten different species of bird tweeting merrily away. Somewhere in the distance I hear some church bells jingling a joyful tune. Around me thereโs the fluttering of butterflies, ladybugs and other summery critters enjoying the last rays of sun.
In this sleepy silent town I seem to be completely on my own. Alone, but not lonely. I am surrounded by memories and profoundly content with my own company. Feeling that artful soul across the street brings some extra oxygen. As if a cosmic connection is supporting me while writing. I lie back and stare at the clouds and drink it all in.
There’s the tiny church behind me, filled with some of his beautiful works of art. He wrote the following song about it. My favourite lyric is this:
O ik wil het al nog geiren geloven, dat mirakel van die zes kruiken wijn en van Lazarus die al drie dagen dood was, were levend, meer moet dat nie zijn.
Dat is ‘t werk van zangers en dichters, als ‘t maar rijmt, is ‘t een fluitje van ne cent, dat Jezus zijn moeder nog maagd was, is dat geen geestig vertellement!
Roughly translated that goes:
Oh, I want to gladly believe it all The miracle of those six jugs of wine And of Lazarus who’d been dead for three days Alive again, that’s all it takes.
That’s the work of singers and poets, If it just rhymes, it’s a piece of cake, That Jesus’ mother was still a virgin, Isn’t that a droll tale
After I’m done writing, I step into the church to wander past Vermandereโs paintings, etches and sculptures again. I refrain from putting his music on because the Gregorian church music, which I kind of really despise and always have, reminds me of my father again. I take my sweet time looking at every piece in detail and marvel at the imagery and colours.
The beauty and intricacy of the works doesn’t really translate into pictures. I get especially transfixed by this one, drinking in every brushstroke and bit of shading in these striking colours with hungry (and quite frankly a little jealous) eyes.
In trying to research what this piece is called (no luck yet), I just found out this piece I saw on my first night in Nieuwpoort. It was made in remembrance of the Great War and is called Verzoening or Atonement. It is placed on the geographical starting point of the Western Front right near the pier.
I walk back out of the church, put on my hiking boots and wander off in the distance. After a while, my thirst, which I was supposed to quench at that little terrace, takes over. Nothing is open within walking distance, so I decide to drive over to Ramskapelle and I unknowingly end up at the perfect writing spot. Another place where time stood still, with a slightly camp but lovely decorated terrace and some beautiful inspiring wall art.
A chill and very 80s soundtrack in the background, a very LOUD but soothing conversation between two local ladies in that lovely West-Flanders dialect and some nice regional beers on the menu. The air feels warm, and smells of a rain shower that never happens. What else could a person want? Fate drove me here. I start writing. Crocodile Rock jumps on in the background. I smile and think of Joey Clyde.
Before going home I honour my farmer family roots by making friends with a sheep and admiring some farming equipment. Dad would have been proud of me today.
PART TWO – SCENE FOUR Sunday, September 24th, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. NORTH SEA SHORELINE & BEACH BAR , NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – AFTERNOON TILL EARLY EVENING
With the work on my website done, itโs time to go out and play in the sun! Time to chase my fever dreams and finally dig my toes into the sand. My feet firmly stuck in the sea, feeling the waves splash against my legs and my hair getting tussled by the wind. And in this moment I am happy. Cue another songโs lyrics getting stuck on loop in my brain. I can’t say I even mind.
I dig my toes into the sand The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket I lean against the wind, pretend that I am weightless And in this moment I am happy, happy
Incubus – Wish You Were Here
After some more splishing and splashing through the surf, I end up near a shrimp fisher. My bird watchers book had taught me earlier that the ebb is a fine time for admiring the flocks of birds cruising the shore for some snacks. Boy, was I in for a treat myself! A gigantic flock of seagulls (quite possibly European Herring Gulls to be more specific.) is having a feast of seaside spoils. Time for a photoshoot!
Eventually my sore legs and feet drag me back to the same beach bar from yesterday where I score another swing seat. Commence three hours of languidly scrolling, writing, drawing and watching cute doggies frolic in the sand.
Instagram treats me to some Jen Razavi and I am immediately back in Duffel at the start of August. (Another of my stories on backlog, where I will tell you about the amazing Women of Brakrock.) I am falling back into memories of music, so I put on some tunes while writing this. Am not disappointed. It starts off with The Devil Makes three, follows up with some Bridge City Sinners and then falls into this one:
Well, I am not drunk as hell, but I am definitely enjoying my local beer, drinking in this amazing view and those BEAUTIFUL CLOUDS.
The music seeps in again as I am enjoying the nice weather. A slightly more prominent sea wind than yesterday rocks me gently in my seat. And in this moment I am happy. Happily enjoying the break from the chaos, both good and bad, from the last years. Joyously revelling in the good company of the music in my ears and wind in my hair.
With my shoes strung across my shoulders, I walk home barefoot. I donโt think Iโve ever felt the concept of mindfulness as deeply as I did today. The sand and water around my ankles, the sun on my face and the wind blowing all worries away.
Admiring the cloudy views and feeling the stones of a slightly altered version of my childhood under my feet. I cannot help but smile.
PART TWO – SCENE THREE Sunday, September 24th, 2023
FADE IN: INT. FAMILY APARTMENT, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – MORNING
See me sitting at the computer, trusted cup of coffee at hand, clicking and typing industriously. I am finally getting around to updating my website, reworking the layout of the basic pages. I had been meaning to do this overhaul for a while now, but I kept postponing it because life was happening. I was also having too much fun documenting all of those happenings in the words you read on here. Which is perfectly fine. Live while Iโm alive and sleep when I am dead and all that, as Bon Jovi used to sing.
Today however, I do have a use for this restful Sunday. While the coastal town is busy bustling with activity, I am avoiding all that hustle by web designing with a view. It is nice to take a break for once. Iโd been running on fumes for a while now, as I spoke about at length in the first part of this seaside series. But it wasnโt all stress and bad energy that left me in need of a break. After resurfacing from the dark abyss, I found the music again with Pete Bernhard at The Black Flamingo in March and I havenโt stopped seeing amazing shows (both large and small) since then.
On my fathers birthday in April and the second show of Peteโs I saw, I decided to get DownSideUp going again. I will be eternally grateful to Jo because as I said before , he played an integral part in me firing this website up again. Me being my neurodivergent self, I needed this space back online as soon as I could. This meant not thinking too much about where I wanted to go with this, and just throwing something together to get to posting. I didnโt want to lose myself in my overly perfectionist former marketing & communications self, and lose the momentum of writing. I am so glad I told UX, SEO and all that jazz to fuck right off.
But today, I carved out a bit of time to rework and translate. The design is still far from perfect, but from now on I live by the creed that done is always better than perfect. (And to be fair, perfection probably doesnโt even really exist, another man-made concept to steer clear of.) In any case, at least now the setup makes more sense and brings focus to what is the most important: THE WORDS! And seeing as how my bilingual narrator writes in both Dutch and English, I decided to translate the basic pages to the latter language. Most Flemish and Dutch people understand English anyway and Iโm making international friends again who wouldnโt be able to understand the Dutch bits. So there, fixed(-ish).
Hunger calls me back to reality and I venture out for some much needed carbs to accompany my lovely meaty treat I bought yesterday. Something pulls at my gut again and I step into a store on the way back. There I find this cutie calling my name. My neurodivergent ass LOVES stuffed animals, so I could not resist when I saw this soft crocco-fella.
On the way home I named him Joey Clyde, for Joey Steel and Clyde McGee, as a reminder of a spectacular Friday and this subsequent ‘finding myself’ holiday at the coast. You will remember Clyde from that fateful Pete Bernhard gig in April at Tequila Tattoos, that helped set things in motion for the reemergence of DownSideUp. Heโd promised me then to get me on the guestlist for his Bridge City Sinners show, which he graciously did. (Remember that BEST GIG OF THE YEAR bit in part one of this series? Yes, it was them. I will tell you ALL about it in due time.) Synchronicitous as always, this song starts playing in my headphones while I am writing this.
But have I told you about my friend Joey? I met him last year at Punk in Drublic and we have kept in contact ever since. He’s an amazing musician and singer in FIVE bands, an anarchist and LGBTQIA+ ally, a great thinker and self proclaimed shit talker, with his own most interesting podcast ‘Dispatches from the Underground‘. He’s also a tour manager and any band fortunate enough to count them into their entourage, should thank their lucky stars. (He will be prominently featured in the imminent Bridge City Sinners post.)
Thanks to Joey, I got to invite Jo, Tiho and Ann & David (Whom Iโd met at the Whiskey Dick/James Hunnicutt double bill at The Black Flamingo. More on them later, because the music brought us back together for Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove a few weeks ago. That is YET ANOTHER series of posts I am working on!) to experience the chaos that was that amazing Bridge City Sinners gig with me. He made that night even more special for me, because I could share the music and pay it all forward by getting those lovely people on the guest list.
When I got to the apartment, I noticed Joey Clyde had a stitch loose on his neck which I fixed with needle and thread, giving him a badass scar. Joey recently underwent a major surgery, resulting in a similarly badass scar on his neck. Musical synchronicity in full force right there. (Have you noticed this is scene three? I HAVE!)
Me and Joey at Trefpunt Gent after the Bridge City Sinners show
I will forever treasure my new crocodile friend Joey Clyde as a visual reminder of a mindblowing night and seaside holiday.
Tiho, me and Clyde at Trefpunt Gent after the Bridge City Sinners show
PART ONE – SCENE TWO Saturday, September 23rd, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. NORTH SEA SHORELINE, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – EVENING/NIGHT
Here I am, walking along the shoreline while the sun is setting behind me.
I came to look at the sunset from the vantage point of the dunes, but something pulled me to the waterโs edge. Though there are still plenty of people out and about, it feels like at this moment it is just me, the wind and the waves.
No music this time, except the sound mother nature provides. The rushing of the waves into the shoreline and the wind whooshing along in harmony.
This most soothing silent sound fills my world. A panoptic blanket of white noise takes me in its arms and shelters me from the rest of the world around me.
I spot a few washed up jellyfish and get completely entranced and start taking pictures. The light hits them just right. What an amazing sight to see.
A little sad and melancholy as well, since chances are these graceful yet delicate sea creatures are dead or dying.
Thatโs nature for you. The undercurrent brings the jellyfish to the surface, where they wash up on shore and dehydrate. The sea is as cruel as it is soothing.
In creeps the music again, (As if I could ever avoid it.) by way of this Flogging Molly Sea Shanty ‘Cruel Mistress’ worming it’s way into my brain.
But actually, the sea is neither cruel nor kind. Thatโs what man made of it, anthropomorphising a body of water out of fear and misunderstanding. The sea lives and is in turn teaming with life, both above and below the surface. Yet it can never be cruel, nor can it be kind, because it simply gives no fucks. The sea just exists in a series of ebb and flow movements, drawn in and out by the gravitational pull of the moon. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Day in and day out. To be more like the seaโฆ
Thereโs a therapy analogy that helps you look at recovery from depression and burnout (and pretty much life in general) as a series of waves. You cannot be happy all the time and you will not be sad all the time. My life over the years has felt like a road of sky-scraping peaks and rock bottom valleys. Losing so much of myself in the darkness of those deep chasms. My sense of self. My sense of wonder. The things I am good at, and the things I love doing. Writing is one of those, but photography used to be that as well.
Well, this moment in time is where I draw the line in the sand and say: no more of that. Yes there will be ups and downs, there always are in life. But from now on I will be more like the sea, a slow and steady ebb and flow. Because thereโs always a new day tomorrow, where the moon can pull on me again to bring me onto shore.ย
As I walk up the pier, smiling when I hear two kids singing โLaat ons een bloemโ by Louis Neefs.ย Another song that is filled with fond memories of family, the child within me and so many more I canโt even begin to list. I keep walking, entranced by the view, the sounds, and the activity of the night-fisherpeople.
It is again so fitting, so synchronicitous to hear this song at this point in time. See me walking into the future, with the music as my compass and guiding light. ๐
PART ONE – SCENE ONE Saturday, September 23rd, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. BEACH BAR, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – DAY
I am sitting at a beach bar in Nieuwpoort, the day after another one of my favourite nights and shows of the year. I have several, they keep on accumulating. Youโd think that at some point I wouldnโt be yelling โTHIS WAS THE BEST GIG OF THE YEARโ, but here we are.
I was on the way to the butcher for a delicious meaty treat for myself (I know, I am an awful animal lover!) and wanted to walk with the North Sea in full view. I followed my gut away from the busy looking bit of the dike of Nieuwpoort beach. Seeing the squirming of all the sunny Saturday tourists made me stop in my tracks, think to myself โNOPE, not todayโ and swiftly turn the other way. The reward for trusting my gut feeling was nearly instant. After noping out of the first bar (WAY too loud and hip for my taste) I settled on the second beach bar in sight. Swing chairs with a dune and ocean view? Yes, please! I settled in, put my headphones on and fired up the Spotify playlist I started with my good friend Jo.ย
How synchronicitous that this song should come on while writing this. The lyrics are etched into my soul.
Took me two years to write this song, I wanted it perfect, no wrinkles in it. Took me a long time to come clean, To be honest, the truthโs so ugly.
No matter how far I run, I always end up back here. No matter how far I go, I always end up back here. In the mirror, in the mirror, in the mirror, only in the mirror.
I always felt so out of placะต, In a crowded room, I speak too soon Yeah I put a big smilะต on my face, I canโt let them know itโs all for show, No
Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of RUNNING
The Interrupters – In the Mirror
I saw The Interrupters earlier this year (in the chaotic gig-filled month of June I am still scrambling to write fully about.) and broke my voice while singing along to this song. It was yet another cathartic experience in this insanely amazing year of music, that keeps piling those moments on top of each other. But I digress.
As I sit lie here, contentedly swinging in my beach chair while writing, a gentle sea breeze blows through my hair. I realise I am no longer my own worst enemy. In fact, I am thoroughly enjoying my own company. No outside stressors or responsibilities. Just me myself and I, tuning the world out by way of The Best Playlist in the World. The salty sea air in my nose, my notebook at hand and barely any humans in sight. All I see is sandy dunes, a lot of sunshine with a few clouds, the beautiful North Sea and some kites floating merrily in the wind.
It all emphasises how sorely I needed this getaway after nearly three years of constant stress, darkness & self-doubt. Iโve resurfaced after one of the worst periods in my life in general. First there was the burnout and subsequent depression that I could not seem to crawl out of. Followed by a stupid incident in which I broke my foot and the slow healing process over the gruellingly boring summer of 2021. Then a string of injuries and illness in the family, resulting in the caring for (and about) both my mother and father. (Which left the summer of 2022 without music as well, aside from Punk in Drublic.)
Then came the death of my father around this time last year, and another tumble down that jet black abyss followed. The music and Purple People saved me from that one. As I was slowly crawling out of that hole, I ended a 17 year long relationship and started a nine month long, intense group therapy process which I am now halfway through. I might not have been working, but my mind never seemed to get a moment’s rest either way.
How the fuck did I ever expect to get myself out of a burnout that had been in the works for YEARS, while still burning the candle at both ends? It was delusional to think I could have done it alone. Nevertheless, I am sure that this sequence of events was not without meaning in and of itself. I am sure to my core I needed to pass through all of that to end up here. Both figuratively and literally speaking. I needed to end up here, at this exact moment in time, in this particular place in space. I will look back on this and see what a huge step it will have been in my healing process. I am beyond sure of that.
Over the last couple of years I had been having these weird anxiety filled stress dreams, about being near the sea and not finding my way to the beach. I have been YEARNING to put my feet in the ocean and feel the wind in my hair since before the lockdown of 2020. I have finally arrived and made it to my own private beachfront holiday.
I am bathing myself in profoundly precious memories in the coastal town where my grandparents bought an apartment the year I was born. I spent every summer of my childhood here with my family. I am treasuring those echoes of the past, of my inner child deep within. Itโs in the smells of the sand & sea, of the gasoline in the parking garage below the apartment. Itโs in the view of the beautifully repainted waterfront property with the words Inchโ Allah embedded in the stone. It always links back to the music, in this case the song by Adamo, an artist I dearly love courtesy of my mother and grandmother.
Being here on this second day of Autumn, enjoying probably one of the last Indian summer days of the year, feels positively magical. I spent a chaotic but intensely rewarding day yesterday getting over a LOT of fears, both real and imaginary. (Fear of heights and roller coasters, group dynamics, traffic and bad weather combined with very tight schedules and timelines. A right mess for a neurodivergent person such as myself.) It morphed into one of the best days and nights of 2023. (And that is saying something!) I was surrounded by good friends and like minded souls in the midst of the all encompassing piece of life that is The Music.
I feel like I am finally discovering myself as an actual person. And most importantly, I like that face staring back at me in the mirror, for the first time in maybe EVER.
‘The most beautiful thing you can become is yourself’ – taken (in the mirror) at Trefpunt Ghent
That all of this should happen NOW and HERE is nothing less than prophetic. It is fate. It is destiny. It is another bit of proof I am walking the right road. MY road. The road I was meant for from the start. Iโve been walking it all along, but I just now passed the bit in between where there were no lights, signage or roadmarks. It feels good to be on the other side. To be able to breathe and let go of the anxieties that have been stuck to me for all these years. I see a light at the end of the tunnel and I am walking towards it. Smiling to myself. Following where the music takes me next.
A promise to no longer be my own worst enemy. A story about neurodivergence and acceptance in three songs.
I got my ADHD diagnosis last year at the ripe โoldโ age of 36. In learning more about it, a LOT finally started to make sense. Why the life I was building for myself never really seemed to fit me. Why I never seemed to reach my own potential. However, there was still a puzzle piece missing. I got tested for both ADHD & Autism Spectrum Disorder at the same time. I had become so adept at masking myself, I did not get diagnosed as being on the spectrum. In subsequently talking to people, and reading up about autism and neurodivergence, I realised that diagnosis was wrong. I am both autistic and have ADHD. All those little quirks and difficulties I experienced all through life suddenly became one of two. The constant battle in my head between order and chaos was suddenly very clear.
My life was made of masks, one for every occasion. First I hid my true self away, out of fear of not being accepted. Of being seen as weak. Of being perceived as weird. Of being thought of as a failure. Of being known as difficult. I became the person I thought I should be, not the person I actually was. It was a recipe for disaster. I was a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. Last year I finally learned why everything always seemed SO much harder for me. Life in general, school, work and interpersonal relationships.
But when I learned about, and started to accept and work around my (self)diagnosis as AuDHD, that became a mask in and of itself. I started to apologise for myself and my way of thinking about things and my way of doing things because of what those disorders meant to me. I have ADHD so I must be LOUD and OBNOXIOUS, SORRY. At the same time I am autistic, but because I am such a LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS ADHD’er, I didnโt feel like I had the right to claim the space, peace and tranquillity I needed. It was a constant struggle with myself and not in the least, with the people around me.
This year, right around the time I was rediscovering myself in the music and the words, I started group therapy in a clinic near me. I am so unbelievably grateful for having found that path. In the last three and a half months I have learned SO much about myself and moreover, myself in the world around me. It has been challenging and confronting at every turn. But I am slowly learning to understand myself and treat myself with the same compassion and empathy with which I approach other people. Itโs a process with big ups and downs, but it is so unbelievably rewarding.
It really should not have come as such a surprise to me that I am my own worst enemy. I make life so much harder on myself by trying to do everything right. For myself, but especially for those around me. I adapted a mask very early on, hid myself away and pretended to be strong for years. Because I thought that was helping those around me, not having to worry about me and the dark abyss I was tumbling into. In reality, by pretending to be made of stone, I continued the fallacy that we should all be made of granite. That there is no room for us to crumble, even just a little.
I am now slowly learning that vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness. How itโs okay to not be okay. And how in showing and talking about my own struggles, others learn to find the words to describe their fragility and pain as well. There is beauty in recognition and unity in commiseration. We all struggle with things, why not struggle together? A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Because in sharing and commiserating, we can all grow together.
This blog started as a simple foreword to a piece about music. I was going to write about finding synchronicity in music again thanks to two shows by Gipsy Rufina & Kiel Grove. (Don’t worry, I WILL get to them!) How reconnecting with Ann, whom I met at the James Hunnicutt & Whiskey Dick gigs, led me to watch Coco again and what that meant to me in this dark September month. But the foreword developed a mind of its own and turned into this. It was meant as a sort of apology to all the bands and artists I promised my words to over the last couple of months. But in letting loose and just following the words, I realise I have nothing to apologise for.
Thereโs something to be said for continuity and following the precise sequence of events. Itโs nice and neat and comprehensible. (Some might even call it Nice & Accurate!) It is expected. Iโm usually a stickler for doing things by the rules. It brings order to my disorderly brain. But I keep losing myself in trying to do everything perfectly. In thinking more of what my actions (or inactions) might signify to others, than in realising how hard those thoughts are weighing ME down.
I am trying to break away from that to preserve my own sanity and build myself back up in the best way possible. So I donโt get burnt out from the thing that was curing my burnout. So for now I am done following the rules and promises I made in my head, because they were preventing me from telling the stories.
From now on the stories will be posted as they present and write themselves in my head. The stories recorded during this magical, musical summer (and beyond) WILL get told with all the love I felt while experiencing it. But in their own time, in my time.
Hereโs to chaos and anarchy. Hereโs to doing things my way.
RESIST. UNLEARN. DEFY.
An aside about the songs: The three songs in this blog are by a band that has a very special significance to me. Remember that message board I wrote about in my last blog on Terry Pratchett? Well, it was called Incuboard and was dedicated to Incubus. Sort of, anyway. I met some very special people there and I still remember that period very fondly. I lost track of the band a little around when they brought out Light Grenades. But I will never lose track of their previous albums and songs. They helped make me who I am to this day. They ring as true now, as they did back then.
I subconsciously chose three songs off the same album Make yourself. This was not planned, even though the title of this blog was inspired by the title song from that album. Synchronicity I guess. In threes, as always. The cover picture is inspired by a lovely art book the singer made, called White Fluffy Clouds.His art very much inspired my own. The piece below was my vague interpretation of the cover art of his book.
In oktober van 2021 besliste ik dat ik eindelijk de tattoo zou laten zetten waar ik al enkele jaren op aan het broeden was. Iets van een innerlijk kind op een schommel en de grote boze wereld daarrond. Mijn idee was vaag maar de fotografische imprint in mijn brein heel gedefinieerd.
In verschillende berichten en telefoontjes probeerde ik aan mijn uitverkoren artieste uit te leggen wat ik net bedoelde. Het eerste idee dat Sarah me doorstuurde was fantastisch mooi, maar helaas niet mijn tattoo. No problem, back to the drawing board. Het lukte mij even niet om het idee beter verwoord te krijgen, en Sarah had het ook even veel te druk, dus ontstaat er een tijdelijke radiostilte.
Ergens zomer 2022 beslis ik dan toch nog maar eens een poging te wagen, Sarah nodigt me uit in de shop. Beste idee ooit. Sarah is sowieso ook een van de Purple People. We vuren ideeรซn op elkaar af, terwijl zij het in Procreate tot iets concreets begint te vormen en tegelijk driftig notities neemt. Ik raak nog geรฏnspireerd door een van haar ontwerpen dat ik vanuit mijn ooghoek opmerk, en de rest is history.
We beginnen met het babyvogeltje uit haar eerste ontwerp, met een boekje in de schoot. (Eentje van Sir Terry Pratchett, moest u het zich afvragen.) Die mag al gaan chillen op zijn schommeltje. Vogeltje, want ja, kleine hyperfixatie op vogels specifiek en dieren algemeen. Oh, en kan er nog een koptelefoontje bij? Muziek, u weet wel.
De schommel hangt dan weer vast aan een (gespiegeld) dopamine symbool, omdat dat een belangrijk factor is voor mezelf, om in the moment op mijn schommeltje te geraken. Het boek, de headphones en de schommel zelf als herinnering aan wat me dopamine geeft. Woorden, noten en verbondenheid met mijn innerlijke kind.
Het oog binnen de dopamine is gebaseerd op het ontwerp aan de muur. Het staat symbool voor de kaleidoscopische blik die ik op de wereld heb. Opnieuw, een herinnering voor als ik vergeet van รฉcht te kijken naar de kleine, mooie dingen.
Het schaduwkonijn dat errond zit is volledig Sarah haar geweldige ingeving. Een perfecte, maar toch niet te angstaanjagende afbeelding van de grote boze wereld rondom mij. Want als ik op alle andere elementen let, is de wereld ook draaglijk en niet echt ZO boos.
Innerlijke kind, check!
Grote ‘boze’ wereld, check!
Permanent visuele herinnering aan wat u energie brengt en beschermt tegen die ‘boze’ wereld, check!
Het wordt september en we beginnen eraan. Ik ben GEK van het ontwerp. Maar dan wordt het winter, in mijn hoofd en daarbuiten. Ik voelde me op een bepaald moment zo slecht, dat ik mezelf aanpraatte dat deze tattoo een foute impulsbeslissing was, waar ik nog spijt van zou krijgen.
Dat maakt het des te mooier hoe ik vanaf het begin van korte-mouwen-seizoen 2023, opnieuw met veel liefde naar mijn arm begon te kijken. En vanaf vandaag ligt daar dus nog een extra laagje liefde over.
Ik lig hier in de tuin een eenzame vaderdag te vieren met alleen muziek als gezelschap. (En dat is OK, het voelt niet alleen.) Maar door hier zo te te liggen soezen in de zon, met muziek in mij oren beginnen mijn gedachten te verdwalen in patronen.
lk besef net hoe super profetisch deze tattoo is voor de mentaliteitswijziging die ik in de laatste 2 weken aan het doormaken ben. En voor de relatie als dochter van mijn vader. Als in, toen ik ze liet zetten was ze hyperrelevant en sprekend, en nu heeft ze nog twee extra betekenislagen gekregen die ze nog ZO veel belangrijker voor me maakt.
De timing rond deze tattoo en keuze voor deze artieste is al om verschillende redenen zeer synchronistisch gebleken. Deel van dat verhaal is niet van mij alleen, en ga ik hier niet uit de doeken doen. Je zal me moeten geloven op mijn woord.
Als ik mensen die een tattoo overwegen iets kan aanraden: de juiste artiest is veel belangrijker dan het juiste idee. En laat het rusten als het nog niet is wat je zoekt. Je zal hooguit een ontwerp moeten betalen waar je later misschien nog iets mee kan op een of andere manier.
*Een bedrag dat mee in de prijs van mijn uiteindelijke gezette tattoo opnieuw werd verrekend. Voordeel als je bij dezelfde artiest blijft. Maar nooit een verplichting. Wel om hen te betalen, want ook het uitwerken van een tattoo is voor hen werk. Vaak veel meer dan een leek kan vermoeden.
Voor mij was de juiste artiest in dit geval Sarah Boo Punkelmees. (De naam alleen al, komaan!) Het was misschien een zware bevalling maar ik denk dat we alle twee uiteindelijk uitermate enthousiast zijn over het eindresultaat. (En ik althans ook over het proces.)
Los van een super getalenteerd tekenaar en tattoo artist is ze trouwens ook een pracht van een mens, en een extra inspiratie om te leven zoals mijn tattoo het me aangeeft. Met een open blik op alles wat belangrijk is. โค
Volg Sarah Boo Punkelmees en de shop The Lost Oasis waar ze werkt. Het loopt daar vol van Purple People volgens mij, met elk hun eigenwijze stijl en aanpak! ALLEN DAARHEEN! (En zeg dat ik u gestuurd heb!)
Ik had kunnen zoeken dewelke ik het leukste vond, maar dan had ik volgende week nog niet op publish geklikt, dus hierbij haar laatste post! (Die ik voor de duidelijkheid dus ook absoluut bangelijk vind he!)
Deze reportage in drie delen is iets waar ik al even op broed. Ergens tussen de zeven en twee maanden ofzo. Ik moest er eerst iets anders uitkrijgen voor het allemaal een logisch gevolg van elkaar werd.
En natuurlijk wachten op het laatste deel uit de trilogie voor ik ze kon schrijven.
Geniet van deel twee, op een van mijn meest favoriete herinneringen dit jaar. (Tot dan toe althans) De rest van het verhaal? Hier zijn Deel 1 en Deel 3.
Part 2: Pete Bernhard (met Clyde McGee), eerste Europese solo tour SECOND STOP: Tequila Tattoos, Hulshout- 9 april 2023
Het is symbolisch. Het is de verjaardag van ons pa en daarom ben ik hier. Daarom spelen ze hier. Synchroniciteit. Ze, want Pete Bernhard is herenigd met zijn tourbuddy Clyde McGee voor een bijzonder mooi intiem optreden.
De sfeer voor het optreden is ontspannen. Het is een van de eerste echte lentedagen en we zitten in de tuin van Tequila Tattoos. We zijn omringd door fijne mensen, schattige viervoeters en een gevoel van anticipatie. Er wordt gelachen, geaaid en gedronken. De eerste gitaartonen klinken van binnen en we schuifelen allemaal achter elkaar aan naar een plekje in de Tattoo shop.
Opnieuw: instant liefde voor het instrument. (Ook weer een thema in deze reeks.) En daarmee bedoel ik zowel stem als gitaar. Wat een mooie, warm-diepe sound heeft die man! Een absolute aanrader als je hem ooit in een van zijn gedaantes (solo of met The Bridge City Sinners of The Milltailers) kan zien? Niet denken, gewoon GAAN. En de gitaar? Ja, daar heb ik een zwak voor, zowel naar geluid als vorm. Helaas krijg ik voorlopig geen zinnig akkoord uit mijn vingers geperst, anders had ik er minstens al zo รฉรฉntje! (En dan nog liefst een blauwe, zoals Eugene van Gogol Bordello, maar da’s voor later!)
Zie die gitaar. HARTJES.
Na de show sprak ik Clyde even aan om te laten weten wat het me deed dit soort muziek te mogen ontdekken op de verjaardag van mijn pa. Ik weet niet meer exact wat er gezegd werd, maar het liet me alleszins achter met een heel warm gevoel.
Een kort sfeerbeeld. Onthou zeker de man in het oranje kostuum en de top hat. Hij komt later nog terug!
Dan werd het tijd voor hoofd act Pete Bernhard. De muziek komt bij mij even hard binnen als in The Black Flamingo. Ik sta daar wat op mijn voeten te wiegen met een gelukzalige glimlach op mijn gezicht. Ik beweeg door de ruimte en raak in (fluisterend, geen zorgen) gesprek met Cedric, iemand die bij het vorige optreden ook aanwezig was. Ik kan me ook niet meer exact herinneren wat er werd gezegd maar het ging over burn-out. Het waren alleszins begrijpende woorden over de natuur, rust opzoeken en dergelijke meer. Alweer iets dat je kan verwachten in het publiek van een optreden. (H)erkenning. Schoon toch?
Excuses, ik heb geen goed beeld van Pete alleen omdat ik te hard bezig was met te wiegen en glimlachen.Ik ben dan ook schrijver en geen fotograaf.(Voor deel 3 รฉn Gogol Bordello heb ik wel deftig beeldmateriaal gefixt. Enfin, ons Polexia met haar grote mond heeft dat geregeld.)
Na het optreden liet diezelfde kerel mijn autistische brein, geheel onbedoeld, achter met het grootste mysterie van mijn leven. (Overdrijving. n.v.d.r.) We stonden samen te wachten aan de geรฏmproviseerde Merchtafel. Komt daarbij: de man met het kostuum. Hij heet Nico en is een belevenis op zich. (In de beste zin van die woorden, mocht daar twijfel over bestaan.)
Er ontstaat een speelse schermutseling tussen Nico en mezelf om wie de originele set list krijgt en wie de kopie. Ik heb verloren en door die hele heisa ook mijn kans gemist om mijn setlist getekend te krijgen.
No worries, want die van de eerste show was al geannoteerd รฉn gehandtekend door Pete. Ik zie nog de kans schoon om een van de prachtige tourposters te bemachtigen en laten signeren door beide artiesten. Veel beter.
Suck on that, Nico! (Pas op, hij komt NOG eens terug, he! Derde keer voor wie mee aan het tellen is.) Mijn setlistkopie krijg ik zeer uitgebreid en op geheel onleesbare wijze alsnog ondertekend terug. Schrijver van dienst is weer die Cedric, die zich op dat moment alleen maar als ‘De broer van Franky’ wil kenbaar maken. Komt daarbij dat mijn brein zijn hoofd plaatst op de man die me eerder in The Black Flamingo vroeg of ik ‘de zus van de Spijker’ was en het mysterie was geboren.
Toevalligerwijze kwam ik hem in deze Week Der Optredens tegen bij The Chats. Daardoor weet ik dat de broer van de Franky gewoon Cedric heet en helemaal niet mysterieus, maar gewoon lichtjes dronken was. (Ik liet hem trouwens achter met mijn eigen mysterie, (of dat beeld ik met toch in.) waarover later meer! Het is hier nogal iets met al die cliffhangers tegenwoordig, seg. En de haakjes.)
De Merchvangst van de dag, trots uitgestald op de tafel waar later mijn Kapsalon (dat ik niet opgegeten kreeg van de pure adrenaline) zou gebracht worden, door een man die het schouwspel met een zeer geamuseerde blik aanschouwde.
Deze, voor u als lezer mogelijk onnodige, zwierige zijsprong om aan te geven dat het hier niet alleen om de muziek maar om de verbondenheid draait. Ahja, en de traditionele selfies natuurlijk:
About keeping in touch with your inner child (and following all your old dreams.)
Okay, you might view *ALL OF THIS* (gestures wildly to this blog) by now as a dramatic midlife crisis. I call it keeping it touch with your inner child, because they knew what was up. (Maybe not necessarily about everything, but about the most important things.)
Anway, I was recently advised, (among many other things, but this one was the one I struggled with.) to use prayer as a means of getting through bad thoughts or moments. Not in a God shall smite Thee way, but more like any form of higher power you believe in. And I don’t really believe in a deity or other higher power. I mean, I love and worship Mother Nature daily, but I wouldn’t ask her for help with my issues. (She has too much work already, saving the bees.)
But the answer was so clear to me and has been staring me in the face with every blog & social post Iโve written in the past couple of weeks. I believe in the concept of synchronicity. I was pretty sure I wrote about it on my old blog, which Iโm slowly trying to rehaul over to the current iteration. I was looking for that post and came across this one from 2010.
Written on the THIRD of June in 2010. The last few weeks and months have revolved around the number three in way or another. Just check this series called Pete, Me, And The Devil Makes THREE for instance. (A tour in THREE parts, full of THREES.) In the last crazy week of performances, Gogol Bordello finished the bill at De Roma onโฆ You guessed it, the motherfucking THIRD of June of 202THREE, 1THREE years after writing that blog. (I know, I know, I should get to writing that Gogol Bordello love letter, but I am BOMBARDED BY SYNCHRONICITIES in THREES, so give me a second to catch my breath. – Also, I am writing this bit from the future where the review of the actual performance of the band is done: read it here!)
What does Gogol Bordello then have to do with anything I hear you wondering? (Aside from me accidentally finding this above song while simply looking for a gif and wondering how this would sound in a Gogol-Flavour.) The world needs this Eugene, the universe is telling me to tell you!). Well, they’re the Purple People. (I’ll explain later) What I mean is that I found community and meaning in music last week, in so much more ways than one. Walking out of de Roma that THIRD of June, I made a decision.
I am going to stop trying to see which parts that could fit me, and focus again on the parts that have always fit. Writing. Music. Yes!
After which I, by the way, totally accidentally located the THREE Brits I was trying to interview between the two encores. (That’s a show in THREE parts, in case you were counting.) I had lost all hope of finishing that bit of the story by then. They were the only people we crossed on a half hour trek to the car. They sang me MMMbop which was synchronicitous in and of itself. My sis and I went to see Hanson together a few times now. They’re amazing musicians. Also, did you know they are a TRIO and the last show we saw was their 30TH Anniversary tour? Just saying.
The first one we were going to see, I missed because Amanda was in town and my sister understands my hyperfixated brain a little. But then Taylor and Amanda were playing not just on the same night but also the same venue. And when I saw them kick a ball backstage at Trix, my brain almost exploded. That performance you ask? The 3x3RD of the 2X6TH month of 2017 if you were wondering. But that weird and random link just settles it for me.
This as a complete aside just to mention all the THREES, but the rest of the Gogol Bordello Brits and their lovely rendition of MMMbop will grace this blog soon.
But, asides aside. The thing is, just yesterday I used that very same video (from the Prime Zomer van de Kijker campaign in 2010, not 2008 as I believed.) to cast my newest alter ego, Polexia Miller to this website, who is entirely based on THE MOVIE I AM PROMOTING IN THE CLIP.
Yes, I am yelling. (Sorry, I get excited.) Yes, this all might not mean anything. It probably doesnโt, and Iโm realistic enough to know that full well. Theyโre stupid coincidences. But I am choosing for them to mean something.
Just like the jackdaw (another hyperfixation) that ‘followed’ me on my way to a big day, was the one I saved last year, wishing me luck this time. (Like any and all jackdaws I’ve since encountered.)
Just like I am choosing to see any reference to Johnny Cash as some sign from my dad.
Just like I am choosing to believe this came on my path (both literally and figuratively) for a reason. To learn to accept the donut, but also to see and appreciate the donut-givers.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually actively chosen to believe in something. And now I wholeheartedly CHOOSE to believe. In something that brings me great comfort. That some people could even find odd and stupid. I choose it and I own it. And it is goddamn liberating.
And that is what being a Purple Person is all about to me. That’s what my newest original soundtrack song means to me. Choose Purple. Choose anarchy from your own thoughts.
So that’s what I am going to do. Be the best purple version of myself, doing the things I love best. And I can never really tell what language the thing is going to take. So I am going to keep switching I am sorry if that is confusing to any readers out there, but I hope you appreciate the liberty I can feel by not limiting my creative quirks. And I think that no limits is best with the Gonzo Journalism style I’ve apparently adapted.
(Disclaimer: all the purples you see on this blog have been a personification of my inner Purple Person. I only very recently became obsessed with this song. Another beautiful synchronicity.)
“That groupie”? She was a Band-Aid! All she did was love your band. And you used her, all of you! You used her and threw her away! She almost died last night while you were with Bob Dylan. You guys, you’re always talking about the fans, the fans, the fans; she was your biggest fan, and you threw her away! And if you can’t see that, that’s your biggest problem. And I love her! I love her!
William Miller – Almost Famous
Pete Bernhard(One devil), me and the Devil makes Two! In totaal met vier. Ik ken mijn wiskunde.
The Chats at Trix – Josh Hardy, Matt Boggis | Clumsy Crane
Julie and Dec Martens at Trix november 2023
Amy Taylor (Amyl and the Sniffers), Clumsy Crane and Seriously Hilary at Trix in november 2023
Post-show selfie with the one and only AFP
I got this picture courtesy of the only person I ever met at an AFP thing who was weird in a bad way. He let me know he snapped this pic (way better quality than my selfie) so I added him on messenger and then he turned full creep in 2 seconds. At least it brought me this picture. Photo credit,: THAT guy.
Me, Edward Ka-Spell and the I can Spin a Rainbow merch (Amanda Palmer & Edward Ka-Spel – Trix – June 9th 2017)
Julie Van Craen WebWijf Zondag Zondag
I just established my new alter ego. (Yes, yes, as if I needed any more. At least this one is not getting her own Instagram page.) Her name is Polexia Miller, she is the person I turn into when I experience (live) music.
She is part Band-Aid, part Rock-Journalist (and full on badass), so she gets the best of both worlds. The name is completely and lovingly inspired by the movie that made me want to be a (rock)journalist: Almost Famous*. My most feel good feel good film of all feel good films. Try to say that three times.
Or, try and say โfantastischโ as much as I do in the above video reviewing the movie for Prime. (Never before released to the general public.) The synchronicity (again, sorrynotsorry) of finding this today in the depths of my neglected Youtube archive made me get over the cringe of seeing myself say โfantastischโ over, and over, and over. (And over, and over.) But it doesnโt matter because I was still fucking right, that movie is a classic.
Iโll probably never really write about movies anymore because I still find it hard to recommend a film without spoiling the plot. But thatโs the beauty with rock (whatever that means) journalism. The only plot I can ruin is whether or not you should get that ticket.
Iโm pretty picky about what I go see, because I want to see SO much. I donโt think Iโve ever written a review for a performance I didnโt like and I probably won’t.
More to come still with Part 2 and 3 of Me, Pete, me and the Devil Makes Three, Gogol Bordello, The Interrupters and Brakrock soon. (Also The Rabids, but that is awaiting important input!)
So anyway, enjoy Polexia Millerโs wacky adventures in live music land and see where it goes!
*Along with April O’neil in the series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from 1987. (Earlier she was apparently a computer programmer, later she became a warrior. I think the eighties got the most sexist version, but still, she was a good role model for young me.) Same goes for Rory Gilmore from Girlmore Girls, her dedication to be a journalist was the second influence. And I said I never had female role models. For shame.
Part one: Rounding off the Edges – Guided by Angels
Part two: Live! Amyl And The Sniffers (Trix)
Part three: Guided by Amyl
When I heard Guided by Angels for the first time, I got into a heated discussion if they might be a Christian band (theyโre not). Itโs not always that I look up the lyrics immediately, (though it does happen A LOT) but in this case I just fell in love instantly. If I hadnโt already fallen head over heels for that pumping intro riff.
When they (inevitably, obviously) make a movie about my life, this song is going to be on the soundtrack. Right next to The Dresden Dollsโ Girl Anachronism. Both songs just radiate ADHD energy to me.
Energy, good energy and bad energy I’ve got plenty of energy It’s my currency I spend, protect my energy, currency
Guided by Angels
Rounding off the Edges – Guided by Angels pt. 1 – Number 37 in the series.
I had to use these words somehow, in the Rounding off the Edges Series. And I did. And believe me when I say I am not yet done with their words. All this to say: I absolutely love this band.
Does my opinion really make you that sick? Every decision, every consequences My choice is my own, my body’s my own Opinion is my own, I own it, I own it
And I would rather figure it out the hard way Even if it takes a little more time I want all the experiences I have To be explicitly exclusively mine
Choices
Does my opinion really make you that sick? Every decision, every consequences My choice is my own, my body’s my own Opinion is my own, I own it, I own it
And I would rather figure it out the hard way Even if it takes a little more time I want all the experiences I have To be explicitly exclusively mine
Freaks to the front
Live! Amyl And The Sniffers (Trix)
Australian invasion of Belgium – Part one! (See The Chats for part 2)
I got to see them at Trix on November 15th 2022 and I seriously almost started crying in the audience. To say it had been a rough few months for me would be an understatement. This gig was quite literally the first fun activity I had planned since the end of August. And I still didnโt really feel like going, even though I had been looking forward to it for over a year.
So I just stood there and let the energy the band emits (the song is not wrong!) wash all over me. I felt the loud basses coursing through my body. I felt the happiness and enthusiasm of the audience I was in (and then I’m not even addressing that same feeling radiating off of the stage). I felt like somewhat of a person again. Music is my home and Amyl And The Sniffers made me feel SO SO welcome.
At the time I wasnโt in a writing state of mind, so I never gave them the review they deserved. But everything felt a little lighter after that day. Got to meet the lovely Amyl (Amy Taylor) & Sniffer Dec Martens post-show, hanging out by their bus. Great and funny people, so down to earth and genuinly nice. You can tell by my crazy joyous smile. Next time they’re around, I will write them that review and then some!
Julie and Dec Martens at Trix november 2023
Guided by Amyl
I search, search For the angels guiding my energy They’re so heavenly I love their energy Angels return my energy heavenly …. From the angels heavenly guidedโfuck!
Guided By Angels
It might not surprise you that I have a soft spot for the lady Amy(l) who is everything I want to be when I grow up. (Yes, she is 10 years younger than me, I just never had the right role models growing up. Still learning!) The above lyric rings so true to me. (See: Circle in a Square Puzzle.) It is so hard to find the people who bring the best out in you. And so glorious when you do find them.
It took me way longer than I would have liked, but I have found some of my angels both near me and in a ‘love-you-from-afar-way’. Both are represented in the below picture.
Amy Taylor (Amyl and the Sniffers), Julie and Seriously Hilary at Trix in November 2023
Amyl and the Sniffers ,15th of november 2023, Trix antwerpen
As a 36 year old, I finally understand why my younger self gravitated towards this sentence. Which is why I finally visualised it.
I was so rattled, entranced and inspired by this one line when I first read it, I may have completely forgotten to read the rest of the book. (#adhdproblems)
Then again, it has been with me now for over 20 years, wandering in and out of my consciousness. It acquired new meanings along the way but was always a beacon of recognition.
Anyway. Understanding yourself and your place in the world is so important. Just paying it forward. To whom it may inspire โค๏ธ
I used Canva and Snapseed, but don’t ask me to repeat this proces.
Er waren zo wat kriebels in de buik. En een lichte trilling in de benen. En het was vooral geen goed idee om mijn haar te kleuren vlak voor ik vertrok. En er was een klok die net iets te snel de minuten tikte en bijgevolg een gemiste trein. Er was mijn prachtige zomerkleedje, dat waaide in de zomerbries, onderweg naar de studio.
De mensen die me kennen, die weten dat ik cameraโs en fototoestellen ontwijk en dat ge me lichtjes kunt zien wegkruipen als ik mijn eigen opgenomen stemgeluid waarneem. Maar, er was een wedstrijd die me vroeg wat films te kiezen en voor te stellen voor zoโn camera en natuurlijk evengoed ook met geluid. Ik ben niet te stoppen ben als ik aan het ratelen en tateren ben over films en series, dus MOEST ik het gewoon doen. Ik daag mezelf af en toe eens graag uit om iets te doen waarbij ik me niet 100% op mijn gemak voel. Om iets te doen, dat het stemmetje in mij liever niet zou doen. Bijgevolg schreef ik me in en gaf mijn films op, en vandaag was dan de filmdag.
Ik werd ontvangen in een prachtig gebouw met fantastisch interieur. Industrieel aanvoelende ruimtes, afgewerkt met designmeubelen die ik maar wat graag allemaal in mijn sjakos had gestoken. Eerst werden er wat korte shots genomen op het dak, waarna ik de make-up in mocht. Ik zat me daar even wat sterallures aan te meten, waarna het tijd was voor de echte opname.
De film die ik uiteindelijk heb voorgesteld is Almost Famous. Een film die me nauw aan het hart ligt, want IK WIL WILLIAM ZIJN! (Dit even ter zijde,ย maar als ik een onbeperkte lijst had gekregen, denk ik dat ik Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind had gekozen. Daโs de film, die voor mij een wereld van film opengooide, mijn liefde is daar ontstaan.) Er werden een paar vragen gesteld waar ik zo beknopt mogelijk op probeerde te reageren. (Again, zij die mij kennen weten hoe moeilijk het concept โbeknoptโ voor mij is.) Daarna was het tijd voor wat zotte shots, waarover ik waarschijnlijk niet al te veel mag loslaten.
Nu, the point van dit verhaal, is dat ik eigenlijk, ergens, misschien toch wel zo een beetje het gevoel heb gekregen dat ik me niet hoef te beperken tot mijn lettertjes. Dat er mogelijk nog een andere weg is die ik kan inslaan. Dat ik dat toch wel graag deed en graag zou kunnen doen. En dat ik dat godverdomme blijkbaar nog niet eens zo slecht deed. Het smijt wat opties op de tafel, en dat, dat vind ik dik in orde. Dus binnenkort op Prime, ikke en Almost Famous! (En fantastisch.) En nog zoโn vier andere films, ziet dat ge het niet mist!
August Rush is de artiestennaam van de kleine Evan, die al heel zijn leven in het weeshuis doorbrengt. Hij blijft echter hardnekkig geloven in het bestaan van zijn ouders en beweert hen zelfs te horen in de muziek. Dit is dan ook de draagbalk van zijn hele bestaan: in alles hoort het hummeltje muzikaliteit. Op een dag trekt hij erop uit om eindelijk de zoektocht te starten. Vader en moeder zijn elkaar echter meteen na hun romance uit het oog verloren en weten niet van het bestaan van de knul af.
De acteerprestaties van Keri Russel (Lyla) en Jonathan Rhys Myers (Louis) zijn op zijn zachtst gezegd nogal lauw en de chemie tussen hen spat er niet bepaald af. Van Russel is dat nog vrij aannemelijk, maar Rhys Meyers hebben we toch al (veel) meer uit de kast zien trekken in pakweg Match Point. Gelukkig is daar nog wonderkind Freddie Highmore (August) die het allemaal een beetje recht kan trekken, al acteert hij stukken minder intens dan in Finding Neverland of Charlie and the Chocolat Factory. Robin Williams werd dan weer atypisch gecast als de op geld beluste en zeer gefrustreerde rotzak Wizard, iets wat hem niet altijd even goed afgaat. Zijn geloofwaardigheid gaat nogal op en neer.
Zo ook de geloofwaardigheid van het verhaal. Op zich klinkt het allemaal wat zeemzoeterig en clichรฉmatig en over het algemeen klopt dat beeld ook. Kleine weesjongen in het grote boze New York krijgt de kansen van zijn leven als gevolg van een samenloop van nogal veel toevalligheden. Maar desondanks is deze film geen vreselijk vehikel waarbij je de minuten zit af te tellen. De muziek ? toch de basis van de film ? zit goed. Ze is zeer filmisch, romantisch en af en toe wat (gematigd) rock & roll. En ook al weet je dat alles uiteindelijk in orde komt (het is tenslotte een Hollywoodproductie), toch wordt je meegesleept in het verhaal. Je zou zelfs lekker mee willen schreeuwen als Arthur, een van Augusts straatvriendjes, hem met ?Run August, run? aanmaant ? overigens een niet erg geslaagde knipoog naar Forest Gump. De thematiek van de film slaat dus wel aan, mede dankzij de geslaagde weergave van het chaotische New Yorkse leven, maar in zijn geheel had het toch allemaal wat beter uitgewerkt kunnen worden. Een evenrediger verdeling van gekte en sentiment had misschien wel effect kunnen hebben.
August Rushย is dus zeker geen wereldklasse, maar heeft toch een mooie spanningsopbouw die de (niet overdreven cynische) kijker bij momenten op het puntje van zijn stoel kan krijgen. Daarnaast is dit lieflijk filmpje ook zeer mooi in beeld gebracht. Geen verplicht voer, maar een aanrader om op een luie zaterdagavond bij weg te zakken.
Noot van de redactie anno 2023. Ik was nog aan het twijfelen om deze wel over te nemen want ik was er met zijn 2 sterren niet zo laaiend enthousiast over. Maar dan zag ik de trailer en hoorde ik piepjonge Freddie Highmore (love him!) het volgende zeggen in de trailer.
I believe in music… The way that some people believe in fairy tales.
Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind… in the air… in the light. It’s all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do… is listen.
En dan weet ik weer dat iets me vandaag hier terug op doet uitkomen. Iets met muziek en verbondenheid en synchroniciteit. Alle cirkels zijn zich aan het sluiten. (Pas op, het is waarschijnlijk een redelijk extreel melige rom-com film. Maar als je daar eens zin in hebt, is dit een ideale. Freddie Highmore, Kerri Russel en Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Met een bonus van een, als ik het me goed herinner wel niet zo lieve, Robin Williams. Nog zo’n reden om er anno nu toch wat meer van te houden. Om wat we ondertussen missen. De lieve versie dan. De enige versie. Maar da’s een post op zichzelf.)
Origineel verschenen op (toen nog kutsite.com, ondertussen) kutfilm.be.
DownSideUp 