I had learned about them over a year before actually encountering them, from their previous guitarist. Funnily enough, it would turn out I actually knew the current guitarist Tim since way back when. The purple thread of people and tunes keeps on guiding me towards the gems of the music scene.
Since hearing them, I have fallen head over heels in love with their music and energetic stage presence. After going through a few line-up changes, specifically with new additions Tim on guitar and Koen on vocals they’ve been working on their new and improved sound and I AM HERE FOR IT.
I have the immense pleasure of reporting that the final song, As Hope Erodes, off their new EP will drop this Friday the 21st! Another amazing tidbit of news they got to release last week, is that they will be playing at Alcatraz festival this year. Grab your tickets while they’re hot, you will want to be front and centre for this!
The Crown, the EP in question, showcases a fresh and unique voice in the Belgian Metal scene. It is a combination of aggressive rhythms and riffs, with dark and thought provoking lyrics screamed into the airwaves. This album will grab you by the throat and not free you from its claws until the last notes fade away. I usually do not write album reviews, so this post alone should tell you they are the band to look out for!
First up: title song and first release: The Crown. The searing riffs by Tim & Wim, underlined by an intense thrum of rhythm by Jelle on bass and Hans on drums, will surely quicken your pulse. The lyrics will speak to you of misery and desperation and will leave you melancholy.
Feast yourself on the accompanying music video which should already give you an idea of their live energy.
Building brick by brick A way to tear me down Construct my own demise Possibilities Of what could be Saturate my mind
Kingdom of my own misery Someone help me take it down You can take the crown, Take the crown
Save me, all I do is suffer Save me, all I do is drown Why won’t you save me I’ll embrace it I don’t want to wear the crown
Next up is Burning Ghosts, another dark glimpse into the abyss, albeit with a slightly more melodic undertone. Having said that, the roaring guitars, voice and rhythm section will still tear straight through your soul.
You’ll never walk alone They whisper haunting me I’ve got ghosts that lead the way Feeding on my decay The ghosts that haunt me Are living amongst us My boundaries They cross them Ignore them So unaware Time to burn Burn their bridges down
On to my absolute favourite song off the album: Into The Void. Don’t let the slower buildup to the wall of sound fool you, this one might be the roughest of the bunch, both literally and metaphorically speaking. A raunchy melody with words that will speak to the dirtiest of minds. A song of taking and surrendering control fueled by scorching riffs and a rhythm that penetrates your core.
Bow down The impulse is taking over me I want to put My hands around your throat Taking control of me This part I can’t resist Can’t hold back Let it out Bow for me White to black I am in control Eyes roll back Into the void Carefully selecting Instruments to bruise Not to break To mark, to use Shivers down my spine Shivers down my spine Admire the marks as you Pull the ropes Around your wrists
‘Nough said?
On As Hope Erodes, which will be released this Friday, I will leave you guessing so as not to spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say, it will shatter your heart in a million pieces, and glue it back together again over the course of five minutes and 7 seconds.
All together this EP goes from a hope that is beyond erosion and builds up to a newfound light at the end of the tunnel, all the while moving both your body and your soul.
I have it on good authority they’re already working on some new tunes, and having heard snippets (aah, the joys of being a writer and confidant), they will provide even more of the same eardrum-blowing music and lyrics that will tug on your heartstrings. Stay tuned!
Meanwhile, go see them live already! Or if you need some more convincing before you do, wait until part two of this series, where I follow the guys on a wild touralong.
If you still don’t believe me, just read what these industry specialists have to say about Hope Erodes:
Maria Moctezuma & Rayna Avila | Friday, October 26th 2024, Live @ Muztic, Mechelen.
I know. I have said this time and time again. ‘This was the best show I have seen (this year).’ 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. I’d heard about Maria last year from Ann, who has never steered me wrong in her recommendations, but sadly I couldn’t go that time. After last night and knowing that coincidence doesn’t exist and it’s all about the synchronicitous roller coaster I am on, I understand that it wasn’t 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 year’s purple thread of music I had followed. It won’t surprise you to learn then, that I felt the tears well up from the first impeccable note she sang. There’s 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 doesn’t 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 we’re all living in an impossible bubble in time and space. Unencumbered about anything that might be happening outside of it, soothed wholly by Reyna’s 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 I’m basking in this moment, hoping it can last forever.
When Maria invites us to think of the people we’ve lost to sit alongside us and share in the energy I just about lose it. I’m sitting next to Jo who has lost his beautiful wife Binne only ten days earlier. This is what I meant when I said it wasn’t 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.) I’ll 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.
Angry Zeta | Wednesday, July 10th 2024, Live @ Bar Bricolage, Ghent.
This is yet another story about connectivity and synchronicity. Of letting the music and the people lead me to more people and music. All these coincidences that somehow feel fated, and me just happily along for the ride.
From the first song Rabid Jack played live on that livestream, I was instantly charmed by his lyrics and sound that is an amalgamation of genres.
At some point he started raving about his love for Angry Zeta, and how they really influenced his music. This was the seedling that led me to discover this lively rag tag of a band and instantly being blown away by their sound. They posted their European tour dates and three shows were near(ish) me, HURRAH. I decided I absolutely had to see them live, because they’re just the type of band that promised to sound even better in person. (Spoiler alert: they fucking do!)
Sadly, one of the dates coincided with the Liege date of Clyde and the Milltailers so I had to scratch that one off the list. That left me with two dates, the first of which I missed as well since my body had not survived my first introduction to Carrie Nation. Luckily the stars finally aligned and I was free and at least somewhat able bodied to catch the last remaining date of the three! The morning of, I looked up the address and I saw that the date of the event was set a week earlier. Damn and blast, this tour-along seemed cursed from the get-go! Fortunately, after a panicked message to singer Zeta Bodrio, it turned out to be a mistake on the event page. Relieved and cheerful, I set off to the sunny sights of Ghent!
I arrive at Bar Bricolage and immediately fall head over heels for this place, with its hidden corners and chill atmosphere under a green canopy. The sound of birds singing a sunset song and a breeze through the trees fills my ears. I find my way to the cosy spot where Angry Zeta will be killing it later, and unknowingly sit down next to Rabid Jack himself!
After doing a double take, I tell him he’s the reason I am here in the first place. If I am excited already, it is nothing compared to him. He’s nearly bouncing up and down from the merch to his seat in pure excitement, in celebration of the show he’d been looking forward to all year. He even manages to to exchange his own Lidl socks for an Angry Zeta pair, causing much merriment for him and amusement to his wife who wonders why anyone would want a worn pair of socks.
The band is filing into the arena and I get a big hug and happy greeting from Zeta, thanking me for making the show. I tell him how sad I am I had already missed them twice, and a little back and forth ensues about all the bands and artists I’d seen that year. It doesn’t surprise me to hear that he ran into nearly all of them during their European tour. Another comment to the first reel I’ll post, this time from Sean K. Preston asking me to say hi. The purple thread and all that, which isn’t done surprising me tonight! In running over to the bar, I spot a happy smiling Noah!
I’d met him over a year ago after The Devil Makes Three and right at the time the idea of the Purple People was incubating in my brain. Random luck finding him on the terrace, because he didn’t even know that Angry Zeta was about to perform. Turns out he’s a big fan so there’s another bout of merrily jumping up and down before running toward the stage. Before getting back to my seat (Too exhausted to dance right now *sad face*) I see yet another familiar face, I’d met thanks to the music. It’s Natasha, who I’d encountered at Kiel Grove & Gipsy Rufina’s gig at De Floeren Aap. I might often set off alone, but the music always surrounds me in an embrace of familiarity.
OK! After this entire tangent of the people, it’s finally time to hear the music come alive. A violin (Of course, this IS the year of the violin), a standing bass, a leopard printed banjo, a guitar, a washboard and one shared mic front and centre, all foreboding one hell of a show.
Pictures courtesy of Jozef Durnez
This, this is something else entirely. Angry Zeta’s vibrant charisma and love for their art radiates off of the stage and lights a fire under the crowd in front of it. Like pied pipers, they draw everyone in and make them lose all sense of reality. Note by note, the audience swells with more and more joyously dancing bodies. I’ve only seen this level of frenzied, feisty and impassioned playing once before in Gogol Bordello. I also haven’t seen so many Belgians dancing as enthusiastically since then. This band is like a drug, an infectious virus that induces a trance-like state, wherein you forget about everything aside from what is happening on that stage.
Midway through we get some reprieve to come up for air when they announce a little break before part two. More bands should be doing this because I refuse to get up during a set. One of these days this determination on my part is going to lead to a dizzy dehydrated fainting spell or a painful UTI. Plus it’s a win win, more time for the band to sell their merch and the venue is happy because there’s more room for drinks sales. Take note!
A few of the band members have returned and instead of waiting for the others, they just start playing to lure their mates in from wherever they’re at. They start off the second part of the set with an unexpected Johnny Cash cover, with a searing violin solo, as befits this year of the violin. They end the night by breaking up the crowd and going in for an ecstatic acoustic encore topped with some insane but expertly executed five finger fillet. (No artists were harmed in this video!)
The moving mob in near worship of this band is an incredible sight to behold and I am living vicariously through their dancing delight. Every fibre of my being is begging me to join the celebration, but I somehow manage to keep my wrecked body sitting on the sideline to spare myself for the shows yet to come. At this point I am wondering if I’ve brought enough paper to cover this performance. In the end I fill up the last page of my notebook just before the end of the set. In hindsight though, 90% of my rambling notes boil down to the following:
The above full length video, courtesy of photo- and videographer Jozef Durnez, can fill in the blanks where my words and reels fail to convey just how extraordinary it is to witness Angry Zeta live on stage. To top it all off, they are extremely humble and just an all around warm bunch of beautiful humans! When I ask to get my poster signed they pass it around and make sure they’re all represented, after which they rally everyone around for the obligatory post-show selfie.
Suffice it to say, this band is fucking special and will from now on be a calendar priority for me when they come back. The energy hangover they must feel coming home, with this level of intensity night after night must be epic. I know I was reeling and revelling in it for some days after.
She can write short form like a one part series too? Absolutely, I do whatever I damn well please! Though I must admit that this band most definitely deserves more parts than I can give them at this time. Envisioning a few hefty series in the near future, I swore to take off my journalist hat and just enjoy the music. Fat chance when the music is THIS GOOD. So I danced and didn’t write anything down. But the memory is enough to sustain at least one blog, with a solemn promise to do better the next time they wind up on our shores again.
It all started with a recommendation, as all good things tend to do these days. Since meeting Ann and Dev last year during the WhiskeyDick/James Hunnicutt tour(and many more thereafter), I’ve learned we are kindred spirits in our love of music. So when either of them tells me I NEED TO see X or Y, I know to listen. (Re: Shawn James!!!) So, no ifs or buts, I tentatively circled two possible dates in my calendar for this band I had yet to discover.
SPOILER ALERT: One minute into show one and ‘tentatively’ became definitely and I added another in between.
That fateful first performance was in the city of Aarschot, which had left me with a bad taste in the mouth after some regrettable life choices as a teen. (Read: awful techno parties where I felt so out of place, I turned to alcohol to get me through them. Which led to MORE regrettable choices, but I digress.) Aarschot however proved its worth, it turns out to have another side to it, full of dazzling music and wonderful people.
Foto’s met dank aan Ronny Van Casteren
On a nice summer evening with just a sprinkling of rain, I arrive at the barn where over the course of the night, a lot of sweat was shed. A little bit of a bummer that the promised showers had made the actual circle outside a risky bet, after which the organisers decided to choose certainty in a roof over our heads. No matter, on with the show!
Foto met dank aan Ronny Van Casteren
With the first sounds emanating from the stage, my body starts involuntarily dancing. Limbs go this way and that and I lose myself completely in the music and barely notice the world around. Except for that band, their impossibly magnetic tunes that put some sort of spell over me. It had been a at least a year since my limbs had done their wacky waving inflatable arm flaily tube man thing but fuck me if the adrenaline from it didn’t render me incredibly ecstatic.
Smiling and sweaty I start to stumble outside, but not before yelling at (and probably alarming) drummer Bryce who’s calmly gathering his things on stage. “HOLY FUCK MAN. I mean… HOLYYYYYY FUCK!’ I later catch up with him outside to let him know I am not a madwoman, I just get really REALLY excited sometimes.
Shiny happy Julie with the wonderful drummer man Bryce
Sometime after that, I regain my composure and connect with a few of the lovely people in the audience, new and old friends alike. I meet Carine and Gerrit, who’ve apparently unknowingly crossed my path a few times in the past already. I’m intensely moved by their story that led them to be here. Their son Jens was in a horrible motorcycle accident and passed away years earlier. To keep his memory alive, Carine and Gerrit decided to follow the music along the venues and artists their son had loved.
Carine’s patched up vest, with a lot of names that ring a bell!
Much later, after most people have filed out, with the last hangers-on we set off into the night, for a good time that will lead us into the early hours.
Last ones standing!
Sidenote: Thanks to my unexpected and erratically uncoordinated dance moves, I managed to damage my body so badly, I could hardly get out of bed for two days after. This unfortunately meant I had to miss Angry Zeta who I’d enthusiastically planned to see the day after at Lou’s bar in Liege. Fortunately for me, I would get another chance, a night not easily forgotten, which will be immortalised after these ones here!
After having just gained back control over my limbs, I endanger my body some more by risking the dance inducing sorcery that is Carrie Nation once more. Hey, I’ll live while I’m alive and dance as long as I can stand up, right? This time I roll up in Turnhout, at the scenic site of Barzoen.
In the middle of the terrace, wrapped around a huge tree, the striking (though apparently impractical) stage in the warm outside air, the location lends a distinctly different vibe to the show. Again I am completely enamoured and enraptured by that fun, frantic and full sound.
Lastly I end up at Café Pallieter in Herselt for the first time ever, exactly a week before my Clyde & Luke tour-along would set off there.
Another sidenote: I’ll find out later that these two had met Carrie Nation in the interval between the two Pallieter shows. Aside from that Kiel Grove (yet another one of Ann’s recommendations) sends me a message to say hi to his mates in Carrie Nation for him, much like James Hunnicutt & Joey Henry commented the same when I saw Kiel in Mechelen. And even though it’s my first time at the Pallieter, I already spot more than a few familiar faces here. The kindred spirits in music weave themselves into an ever growing net of kinship. Everything is interconnected, the purple string of music intertwining through my life and soul. Anyway, philosophical ruminations aside, back to the band at hand.
For the third and final time I see them, and I am again wholly bewildered by the way the instruments sing alongside the vocals in a harmony of their own. How seemingly effortlessly they all play off of each other, blending into a true feast for the senses. The force of that hoarse voice, the comfortable ease of Bryce’s drumming meshing with that deep bouncing bass and exhilarating brass. It’s a true speakeasy spectacular!
Special shout out to Tyler who not only switches seamlessly between his trombone and that divine mandolin, but plays them both so well and with so much soul and fervour you can not help but float away in mesmerised delight. The emphatic way the newest addition to the ranks, Eric McMyermick on harmonica completely loses himself in the music is truly captivating to behold.
So yeah, all of this to say I feel an instant love for this band with their killer instruments and overwhelming passion for playing them. The combination of the trombone, trumpet, harmonica, the essential standing bass and most alluring mandolin, topped by a guitarist with an unparalleled voice, makes it a ridiculously pleasurable performance. All of these instruments and vocal cords, attacked by musicians with ferocious fire fuelling through their veins. Sparks shooting from their eyes, while basking in the moment of their music. All of this of course mirrored by the crowd in front of the stage who’re left gobsmacked and delirious from the ride.
Next time they’re in my part of the world, I’ll be there for another tour-along and subsequent superlative filled series. You can bet on that!
Tying up one series and starting on the next, this post is a double whammy! After seeing the guys solo four times, I get to see them in action with the incomparable Bridge City Sinners at my beloved Brakrock. The purple thread of music keeps stringing me along and tying up all the threads into a glorious amalgamation of sound, people and places. Prepare for the final instalment of my tour-along journal which is also part 1 of the 2024 edition of my love song to Brakrock.
I have been counting the months, weeks, days and minutes in eager anticipation to this moment in time! My first Brakrock day starts off at the River stage where I am anxiously awaiting Bridge City Sinners to take the stage. During their soundcheck I can already feel my heart rate spiking (144 bpm and counting!) for the show I’ve been looking forward to the most on day one of the 2024 edition of Brakrock. The best festival in all of Flanders, shaded by foliage, filled to the brim with beautiful people and with a picturesque ruin as a backdrop. I AM HERE FOR IT.
Photo courtesy of Peter Verstraeten of Event Photography Peter
Photo courtesy of Peter Verstraeten of Event Photography Peter
Time to fawn over those magnificent musical instruments as they get tuned up to perfection. Strang’s gorgeous guitar (HEARTS!) Libby’s cute pocket banjolele & Clyde’s big black one and that stand out stand up bass, plus the fiddle and its stick that’s been played so hard it’s hanging on by a thread! Meanwhile, tour manager Joey is looking all serious and focused as fuck, making sure every little detail is put into place to perfection for his band, as is his modus operandi.
When the soundcheck already has the crowd all riled up, you just know this promises to be a GOOD time! I might just be a little biased, but I note down that I truly don’t understand why they’re playing so early. I can confidently say this is going to be one of the best bits of Brakrock, before even having seen the rest of the bands. In hindsight too, I was totally fucking right in that assumption. Bridge City Sinners immediately take the crowd by storm! In saying that, I get the sudden realisation that programming them early on does get everyone fired up for the day and sets a high bar for all the bands to follow! Smart move Brakrock!
Having seen them just under a year ago at Trefpunt in Ghent I was at least a tiny bit better prepared for what I was about to witness. Still, memories are one thing, reality is another and I let out a shrill FUUUUUCK YES and a lot of WOOOOOO’s. (Apologies to the eardrums around me, I seriously cannot help myself.) I am in AWE and LOVE (exactly like last time) with Libby’s absolutely electric stage presence! One HELL of a voice too, which lends itself amazingly to the Sinners’ unique style.
Photo courtesy of Peter Verstraeten of Event Photography Peter
Photo courtesy of Peter Verstraeten of Event Photography Peter
Photo courtesy of Peter Verstraeten of Event Photography Peter
It’s impossible to box them into one or even several genres of music, since nearly every song and album they bring out has a feel of its own. It’s what I adore most about them, the limitlessness of what they bring, from jazzy speakeasy sounds, to punk with hints of bluegrass, dark folk and much much more.
My notes are again insufferably insufficient and damn near useless in describing in any way, shape or form how fucking fantastic I feel living in this moment, up close to this stage. The band is just such a well attuned entity, with one of a kind harmonious strengths that directly amplify each other. These five people radiating talent and passion for what they do, the sum of their individual skills heightening the whole. Their energies feed off of each other and flow into the crowd that just spews it right back at them, which makes Bridge City Sinners one of the best live bands you’ll ever experience.
Bridge City Sinners’ new album ‘In the Age of Doubt’ has been out for a little over a month now and the response to it is phenomenal. They hit the Billboard charts full force and already amassed over 3 million streams on Spotify alone. No doubt a bunch of those can be attributed to me because I’ve been playing this record front to back ever since it came out. I vehemently recommend you to do the same.
Check out the first video for one of the most heart wrenching songs on the album.
After unexpectedly acquiring a spiffy second hand record player at the end of July, I saw it as a sure sign that this album should be the first vinyl I’ve ever bought.No doubt starting a very expensive hobby my wallet, though never myself, might come to regret.
As evidenced above, I might have yet again gone a little overboard at the merch table, but hey, at least it’s not another black band shirt, amirite? Plus it’s always worth it to support artists and get something tangible to catapult you back into those memories every time you come across it.
In conclusion, whenever Clyde, Luke and any or all of the other Sinners cross the pond again, I will never not be front stage and centre. And you dear reader, will not be disappointed if you follow me there.
THE BRIDGE CITY SINNERS LIVE AT BRAKROCK, August 2nd 2024
And so falls the curtain on this tour-along series which will from now on hold a special place in my core memories. However, it is just the start of the Brakrock 2024 series, which will be continued after I tie up a few loose ends of some events that transpired in July. Stay tuned!
While waiting for the Liege show to start, I’d gotten an excited message from Jo who told me he had no choice but to get to Eindhoven a week later to hand over something Clyde had forgotten at The Flamingo. Me being the selfless soul I am, couldn’t let that poor man go all that way alone, so I made a note to tag along. Time for the fourth and unexpected part of my Clydetinerary! Plus a swift change to the title of this blog, turning it into a trilogy in five parts, inspired by the great Douglas Adams.
After a gruelling week’s wait, made bearable by seeing Angry Zeta on Wednesday and Public Serpents (and friends) on Friday, I get into the car for the third gas guzzling trip that week. After a chill drive, loudly singing along to the Milltailers blaring out the window, I arrive at the canal of Eindhoven. With a refreshing wind in my hair and the sun on my happy face, I walk the scenic route into the city. On the way there, I run into Clyde and Dede, and follow them for an invigorating coffee. We rush back just in time to meet up with Jo and Luke, who’s about to start the night off.
Set the scene: ‘t Rozenknopje has a unique speakeasy vibe, which will lend itself perfectly for what is soon to unfold on stage. We’re catapulted back through the decades by way of the decor of sparkling art deco lamps and red velvet curtains. A terrific backdrop for another night of dreamily feeling the music energise me after a fulfilling but fatiguing week.
The captive audience fades to the background as I dreamily float away into the warm embrace of the music. It won’t surprise you that in being so blindly transfixed at what is transpiring on stage, the illegibility of my notes reaches its peak form. I do try to write down the lyrics to what I’ve decided should be my new theme song. Throughout the red threads that guided me to this moment, I feel so connected with those words. Sadly, it has not yet been recorded so I’ll have to make due for now with the video I made in Liege.
What fortunate folk we are, when after a while of familiar guitar sounds, Luke directs his attention to the piano on stage.
Through his wandering hands on the keys, he amplifies that speakeasy vibe some more with the first song he bangs out. The second song played for his friend brings with it a more delicate atmosphere washing over us all.
After a mid-song switch back to that gorgeous guitar, it’s already time to eagerly await part two of the night. While I’m frantically scribbling down some more illegible nonsense, Jo comments that his setup at The Black Flamingo could use a set of keys. I delightedly offer up my barely used keyboard. I can only imagine the wondrous music it will be playing, after being sorely silent due to my inability to teach myself to play it.
Out to the terrace we go for a brief reprieve between sets. After a very animated conversation with Dede about our mutual love of toys, soft comfort plushies and graphic novels whose protagonists seem eerily familiar, we head on back inside. We regretfully barge in during the first song, so I miss my chance of recording one of my favourites off the album that’s been on repeat in the car. (Which Side are you on, in case you were wondering.)
Part 4.2 | Clyde and the Milltailers
(Excuse this horrible excuse for a picture, to focused to focus.)
It’s Clyde’s time to break a string on impact. But the switch out is barely noticed by the crowd. It’s surprising to me that it’s the first one I see faltering under the pressure of him attacking those strings with a loving vengeance. Luke’s bow is also hanging on by a thread by now from all the furious fiddling. Behind them on the velvet curtains, I notice their shadows poetically playing out a silent backing to that full and fierce sound.
Hearing Clyde sing reminds me about what he’d told me earlier. Apparently Sean K. Preston called his voice arresting, a very apt description that I might not have managed to convey. It saves me having to come up with more superlative adjectives of my own. Meanwhile, the perfect harmony of the lower resonator chords from Clyde, meshing with the higher tones of the violin strikes me hard again. My head fills up more with every passing minute and I put my notes and phone aside to just revel in the music. After the best acoustic encore of my tour-along, with the crowd fervently stomping out the beat, the performance part of the day draws to a close. (Or does it?)
Off we go to explore the hidden pleasures of Eindhoven, Belgian beers in hand. We cannot pass up the opportunity to take out some ‘kroket uit de muur’, as it’s a rite of passage for anyone coming to the Netherlands from abroad. We pair it with some actual Dutch beers, to go with the cheesy palette.
The night eventually leads us to a karaoke bar where the patrons are floored by the musical talent of Clyde and Luke. Special mention to Dede, whose seductive and gloriously passionate act gave them even more fuel to remember this serendipitous passing.
And with this unexpected ending, the curtains drop on the first four follows in the tour-along series. Next up, it’s time for the last instalment of this five part trilogy, when the guys meet up with the rest of the Bridge City Sinners(and Joey Steel, hooray!) for their 2024 European holiday.
Que me counting the days until they arrive at the long awaited day one of Brakrock. Meanwhile, I have some more stories of this and the last year to type out. No rest for the wicked!
After a nice and surprisingly relaxing drive, I arrive way ahead of time in Liege. I find a spot on the terrace in full view of this quaint and lived through venue. Time to catch up on some writing, beginning with the first part of this tour-along series. I pick up my pen and scribble away. I get a good few paragraphs in, when after some time the guys (and gal, hi Dede!) arrive.
I follow them inside and quickly claim the best spot in the house, hanging at the bar. In retrospect and as evidenced by my videos, it might not have been, with all the passing foot traffic. Not to worry, I still have a (somewhat) first row view to be all up in the music, plus some easy access to the local beers. (Which earn me a dive bar achievement on Untappd. Winning!) Luke joins me, getting between me and a somewhat inebriated man who was edging a little too close for comfort. He regales me with the tales of the crazy campfire antics I’d sadly missed the night before at The Black Flamingo and other tour shenanigans.
Part 3.1 | Lightnin’ Luke ⚡️
Time to hit the stage though! Even though his voice immediately fills the room, I get annoyed by a few people having a very loud conversation near me. I’m trying really hard to suppress the urge to shut them up by trying to convey that message, sending them a few lightning looks with my eyes. (Literal translation from the Flemish dialect ‘bliksemen’ with the eyes, meaning sending angry looks.)
I’ve finally had enough and approach them, because Luke & the fans who drove two hours to see him deserve better than this. I ask them to take their lively conversation outside, a message they don’t necessarily take kindly, but at least they lower the volume just a tad. After having shushed (at least a little bit) of the background noise, I can enjoy the show as intended.
Not for the first time, I note that Luke’s footwork is as much part of it all as the voice and strings are. The stomping of his red Portland cowboy boots brings the extra rhythm to the sound. Time to close my eyes and let my ears take over, feeling the music coursing through my body. The crowd, even though more numerous than the last gigs, is way less participatory, so I raise my voice and sing along loudly and proudly. (And sometimes I sing them wrong, but nevertheless strong!)
I get utterly captivated again by the set, from the foot-stomping frenzy of 44 Blues and One Night, the sensual sound of I Want to be Seduced all the way over to the merry yodelling. My only complaint about it is that this set is just too short. Luckily the night is not near over yet!
Part 3.2 | Clyde and the Milltailers
Clyde sets the scene for some real audience love with a nice and firm ‘Fuck off if you don’t want to hear the music and make some space so the ones that do want to listen can come closer.’ Good news for the people who had to look on from outside after driving a long way to see these guys in action. HOORAY! The bar promptly gets more crowded with people thoroughly enjoying the night.
The Milltailers in the form of Clyde and Luke set off with a bang. Now there’s two sets of feet skilfully stomping out the beat. The small but clever, adjustable and removable wooden podium lends itself perfectly for it. Plus it has beer holders so the nectar of the gods (grosse bieres!) can’t spill over the equipment. Smart! Meanwhile it’s time for that magnificent banjo to come out and play, with Luke expertly fingering that fiddle alongside it.
The problem with writing up all these shows is that I run out of ways to say just how gratifying it is to see them in action. Let me just assure you that it does not compare to hearing the recordings, it’s infinitely more pleasurable to see them give their all on stage. Fill in your own EXPLETIVES and SUPERLATIVES along the way. I see happy dancing and merry singing all around. The atmosphere is improving fast with each song they belt out into the bar. Even though it’s completely different from the last two more intimate sessions I saw, I am fully loving the vibe right now. A quick shout out by the way to the magnificent bartenders working their asses off to keep this crowd hydrated!
A cute doggo walks in and doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. His wagging tail and big smile do show that he’s enjoying it as much as we all are. Another animal (See: Caramel the kitty queen of The Flamingo) approval for the band!
All good things must come to an end however, as Clyde & Luke hit the floor for a well deserved and appreciated acoustic encore. This might just be the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off.
Time to head outside and revel at how lucky I am to be able to experience all of this. Getting places, seeing familiar and new faces, it’ll never get old! Outside, I get to talking to some local music lovers out here to enjoy the artists. One of them is Mikael, who doesn’t hesitate to give me a little musical history about this place and the wonderful people that have graced the stage here. He’d also joyously revelled in the performances this night and I leave him to keep chatting with his mates about all things music. Here’s me telling you to check out his band Comity Roots Reggae as well!
I’m enjoying the summery (sort of) sun when Luke lures me back in with the ominous promise of shots. Afterward, we join Clyde and Dede for some delicious Italian food. (Hold the capers, please.) When in Liege I recommend Alla-Grappa Pizza, I will definitely remember to stop by there the next time I’m coming to Lou’s Bar.
With blissfully filled stomachs, it’s time to clear out and head off from dusk until the early hours wherein I provide a skillful (Author’s note: LIES!) tour of the city of Liege. End of verse three.
After a month long and frankly well deserved break for The Black Flamingo, I finally get to go back to my happy place! Not for just any gig, but for the one I have been looking forward to ALL DAMN YEAR. It’s no surprise then I am in the best of spirits driving onto the yellow sand road with the windows down and Clyde and the Milltailers blasting from my speakers. Such a happy homecoming it is, with hugs all around and happy loving faces embracing me to the fullest.
Because I am already prepared to lose my shit after the show, I quickly round up the guys for a pre-show selfie to seal the deal for this here blog. I got there way too early in my giddy anticipation, but that just leaves more time to catch up with all my purple Flamingo people and my lovely little Caramel who I’ve sorely missed.
Part 2.1 | Lightnin’ Luke ⚡️
I see Luke set up on the brand new expanded stage and I plop myself down on the best seat in the house, right in front of the stage. From the first strum of the chord, I’m already nearly in tears from how good it feels to be here, in this moment, and get to see this extraordinary talent behind that guitar for the second (but not last) time this week.
I am again amazed at that voice full of passion and that ear piercing beautiful guitar sound that fills this barn I so love. How lucky we are to be in this wondrous space and have those sounds flow through us.
There’s just so much soul and so much feeling radiating all through that performance. It’s hitting me in ALL the feels and I am on cloud (ninety)nine enjoying every millisecond of all of this.The set is more intimate, with a few breathtaking ballads that leave me speechless. Those lyrics are so impossibly fragile and lived through. This is not just a man with a bewildering voice and talent for playing, but a storyteller who takes you into his worlds and shows you all around the life he’s lived.
Picture courtesy of the wonderful Tatjana Knoll
When Luke utters the words “What a magical place to be, with 2 rainbows outside and 15 rainbows within”, he is not kidding. Another synchronicitous link to 2023 when rainbows were part of the musical path I stumbled onto as well.
Meanwhile the love is shining off the stage and is mirrored right back at him. Another string can’t handle all the pressure and breaks at exactly the same song as it did in de Pallieter.
With Clyde’s resonator at hand, Luke tries to teach us all the basics of yodeling (jazz hands included) so we can be his back up band. He tells us how he found his way to write and perform his own music, with people left and right telling him he can’t do what he’s trying to accomplish. Luckily he didn’t listen to a word they said and just kept on keeping on so we can rejoice in all that encompasses this Lightnin’ of an artist. I thought the gig at de Pallieter was the best thing I had seen all year, but this session even tops all that. (Though I have to admit my deep rooted love for this venue might make me just tad bit biased.)
Part 2.2 | Clyde and the Milltailers
After this performance, everyone needs a little time to process it all, but the guys don’t leave us much to recuperate. Who cares, because this combo is pure heaven and that fiddle is life and seeps into my soul. Again I note how they are so well tuned to each other and how effortlessly they seem to play together.
At this point my notes get completely illegible because I am writing without looking away from the stage. After those few unreadable words, I just stop writing anything down full stop. My brain is melting and I just cannot convey the way all of this is weaving its way into my core. The English language has such a broad vocabulary but I am sure there are not enough superlatives and expletives for what is unfolding in front of me.
From this point on, I will let the music speak for itself and just add in a the last of the many videos I made. They will speak in volumes as to why I am so astoundingly grateful for the life I am living at this moment in time. Decide for yourselves if I am overreacting or not.
Just one more restful night before I get to do this all over, this time at Lou’s bar in Liege, another place I’ve been wanting to visit for ages. Living life in the fast lane is getting pretty exhausting, but oh so thrillingly rewarding. I can feel the energy soaring through my body and am making memories I won’t forget in a hurry. See you for part three!
Clyde and the Milltailers + Lightnin’ Luke | Thursday, July 4th 2024, Live @ De Pallieter Café, Herselt.
Because of my newfound love of the instrument, I dubbed 2023 the year of the banjo. In november, I declared 2024 would be the year of the violin, ever since Jo had given me the amazing news that Clyde McGee and Lightnin’ Luke would grace the stage of The Black Flamingo. As soon as the EU dates were announced I made my itinerary, from Herselt to Nijlen with a scenic trip to Liège and ending my tour-along in Eindhoven.
I counted the months until at last it was July. Fitting that 2023 and 2024 should collide in such a masterful way, smack dab in the middle of the year. As some of you might remember, I credit Peter Bernhard & Flamingo Jo for the resurgence of this blog. On day two of following Pete, he brought Clyde McGee along for the ride. At that point I could only spare a few words for this fantastic artist, but I had promised to make it up to him. Later that year, I got to see him and Lightnin’ Luke shine as part of The Bridge City Sinners and made good on that promise.
New year, new tour so prepare for a stream of words to describe the incredible experience I’ve lived through over the past weeks. Here I am in Liége, in the nice Sunday afternoon air and in full view of Lou’s bar. It’s the third stop on the route of Polexia Miller, self styled band-aid and reporter, where I take some pre-show time to start the writing process of Clyde and Luke’s first stop at Pallieter Café.
It was my second visit to the venue in two weeks. Last time I was here, new discovery Carrie Nation blew the roof off the joint! (Thank you Ann and Dev for the recommendation, as always.) More on that tour-along later, because second things first as I always say! Alrighty then, I arrived just in time for Lightnin’ Luke to kick off my leg of the EU tour-along. What a great spot, nice atmosphere and I am already surrounded by a few familiar faces. Just the way I like it!
A few excited hello’s to both Clyde and Luke and immediately I start gushing about Luke’s beautiful guitar I spot on stage. Clyde tells me to just wait until I hear it play and he was NOT kidding. After the show, I obviously gush some more to the man himself and he tells me that he picked up that guitar by chance. He was going to join The Coffin Cats on tour, needed some strings and just bought the first and cheapest model he could find. At the end of the tour he decided that this one sounded way better than his nice one at home, kept it and sold the other one.
Part 1.1 | Lightnin’ Luke ⚡️
The guitar may not have cost a fortune but that sound is solid as all hell. The strings aren’t though, one breaks almost straight off from the sheer conviction with which Luke starts his set. Not to worry, Clyde to the rescue by way of his own beauty of a resonator and expertise of quickly changing the string between songs. On with the show!
From the first note that Luke belts out, me and by extension everyone around is completely captivated. His voice is on another level, it fills the room, as if it’s an entity in its own right. I am completely overwhelmed at the intensity and the masterful music that spills into the crowd.
Time seems to be standing still and we’re all in a perfect bubble of pure bliss that only a rare breed of musicians seem to be able to create. Luke dares mention at some point that his performance has set the bar low for what we’re about to see with Clyde and the Milltailers. Well, if this is the lower end, I can’t imagine what it would take to get to the higher one. It seems like it is the curse of the best musicians, that they seem to have no concept of just how fucking amazing they are.
Even though I used a lot of them already, my notes state that no words can describe this. I already thought The Sinners were mind blowing, but this stripped down performance is even more gripping. Check out this song Luke wrote for The Bridge City Sinners. (And tell them as requested he did it better when you see them, at Brakrock 2024 for instance!)
Part 1.2 | Clyde and the Milltailers
After this set that seemed to only cover one magical minute, we say goodbye for now to Luke, as the stage is set for him & Clyde in Milltailers form. First, a word on Big Bullwho sadly had to cancel his appearance as standing bass in what would have been a Milltailer trio. He unfortunately broke his arm, and by this his livelihood and had to cancel. Please support him any way you can and wish him the speediest of recoveries! We missed him, but he was here in spirit, just to the right of the stage.
On with the show though, there is so much to tell I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s just say the notes I wrote came with a LOT of exclamation marks. A small summary of the most note-worthy:
Whaaaaassss!!!!
That combo!!!
So hard to stop recording because omg aaah, see long vid.
Everything is goooooold!!!
The long vid as mentioned above.
I also wrote down that it is HANDS DOWN the best thing I have seen all year. And if you check my Instagram reel history, you KNOW I ain’t saying this lightly. Again I note how absolutely gorgeous Clyde’s resonator is, and make an extra note for the new full black banjo which looks incredible as well. As I have already told you last year, Clyde’s voice is a force to be reckoned with. What an astounding talent this man possesses, both on strings, as on vocal cords and he obviously exists by way of his passion for the music. He has been touring non stop it seems, and it shows in an artistry well honed over the years.
The combination of these men on stage is nothing short of divine, in the spirit of music as a religion. Their intensity of playing, singing and how well their voices & instruments blend is awe inspiring. They mesh so bewitchingly well, that I am just gobsmacked and so glad I get to experience this and document it for future generations. Plus, I have three more shows where I get to relive all this again and again and again. I feel like the luckiest person alive.
Not much more gets written down after all of this because I literally lose all capacity to not stare open mouthed. After the set I just really have to sit down and take a breather. When I see Clyde and Luke come down, I only yell a bunch of expletives at them. Fuck Fuck Fuck. Holy shit. What the fuck. I mean, no but really. Seriously. I MEAN! Something like that, but louder and more out of breath.
A small surprise for me when I learn that we’re in for another band after ALL OF THIS. I feel bad because they have big shoes to fill after the room was awash with all this talent. Credit where credit is due however, The Achievers nailed it and kept everyone dancing until their last note. I don’t have any leftover superlatives however, so I will leave you with this live reel and the fact that they are on my radar now!
I drive home with the windows down, a ridiculous grin plastered all over my face and some newly purchased Clyde and the Milltailers music over the speakers. This is the life.
Two days after, I will see Clyde and Luke again at my home away from home, The Black Flamingo and you won’t be surprised to read that it was even more magical than this gig. To be continued in part 2!
Sean K. Preston | Thursday, April 25th 2024 – Titanic, Herenthout
It happened again. Of course it did. It’s all an integral part of the sneaky synchronistic ride the magic of the music is taking me on. It feels fated, whether I like it or not. Note from the author: I don’t just like it though, I absolutely love it. Drawn by the red thread that guides me through my new life, my new sense of me. I should have known better than to think I could avoid writing about this. It only took a couple of songs after which a loud ‘fuuuuuuuuck’ escapes my mouth into the general area around me. Suddenly my notes app has mysteriously opened out of its own volition. I find myself typing various cryptic expressions, full of misspellings and vague references to what I see unfold before me. This? This right here is SPECIAL.
I did try to fervently resist the urge to document this show at first because both my body and my mind are objecting to my busy schedule. No time or energy for it I proclaimed loudly and clearly to those around me, ALAS and woe is me. And yet every time when I am very much too tired but decide to nevertheless push through the limitations of my near somnambulant body, I am exposed to the most beautiful, exhilarating, inspiring and energy delivering moments in time. (Re: Joey Henry, Maid of Ace, Van Tastik and closer to home, bands like Bad Samaritans, Luna and de Maanstenen and many many more.)
Heading into the Titanic, I already notice this alluring specimen of an instrument. This already released the first I-need-to-write-about-this-pang, (as beautiful musical instruments tend to do) which I deftly still withstood. But let me tell you, the sound drawn from it by the skillful (glittery pink nail polish adorned) fingers of Sean K. Presten even outrivaled even its gorgeous body. I fell in love with it, mind, body and soul at first (auditory) glance. The range he gets out of those keyhole backed strings is unbelievable. From sneering near metal riffs, to bluesy bops, metallic bluegrass plucking and delicate acoustic notes, it goes all over the place.
It is still nothing compared to the vocal range that Sean brings to the stage! At some points, it seemed to me he was singing in two separate voices. He delights the captivated audience with an out of this world cover of House of the Rising song that leaves me breathless. I’ve heard this song so many times and it feels like I’m discovering it for the first time, here and now in Sean’s unparalleled voice and tempo. The recordings I am listening to while writing this don’t do those vocal chords any justice, even though they sound stupendous in their own right. The live experience is infinitely better, such as it tends to be with exceptional artists like these.
Sean is an astonishing story teller, a pink haired punk version in the legendary tradition of the likes of Johnny Cash and similar word weavers. Or word smith more like, where he forges a narrative from the fire of his voice, combined with the wielding of his guitar like the most powerful battle axe. An alternate reality of atmospheres that leave me laughing (Snakeskin Boots Boogie), crying (Homeward Bound) and constantly dreamily swaying to the music.
Speaking of Mister Cash by the way, between songs something draws my eye to the side of the bar. I take a picture of the above stickers and learn by word of Juice that they’re an amazing cover band of the man himself. Not a second later, I hear the opening notes to Ain’t No Grave and squeal in delight. I MEAN. This is NOT a coincidence. It’s the red guiding thread that links all the music I have had the privilege to (re)discover.
Meanwhile Sean is singing his heart out so hard that the mic falls down, he jumps from the stage into the crowd and both times an attentive audience member jumps to the rescue to untangle the cables. This brings to mind a thought I’ve had a few times already, in seeing artists with this sort of unbridled and unearthly talent. Why is this man ‘limited’ (not meant derogatory but more in terms of the size of the audience that gets to discover them) to such a small stage?
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore these sorts of performances in venues that still breathe the music. (Like in the amazing Titanic where I finally ended up after a year of wanting to discover it.) It’s always such an intimate and breathtaking experience which you can probably never really simulate in a larger venue. But it still baffles me every time and it doesn’t seem fair to the artists that they can’t share the beauty of their art with more people. The menace of the marketing machine in the music scene I suppose.
Rants aside, I am leaning into the wall, feeling the music resonate all through me, my eyes closed, feel it gently fill me up and recharge me again from the inside out. I open my eyes and spot a random passerby in the street, through the window behind the stage. They’re entirely oblivious to the near religious experience (for me at least) they’re missing here. Alas, the last notes fade out, as they sadly always have to. I feel in my bones that this is turning out to be another year of impossibility in deciding which of the performances was better. A year full of highlights? I am totally ready to let it enrapture me.
I exclaim ‘WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS’ to Juice and Rob who’ve been right behind me the entire show and have been getting that message in several silent glances throughout the show. Juice, who was Sean (and band’s) driver when they toured in Belgium six years ago, brings me over to the stage to introduce me. I gush a little about the performance and take the obligatory selfie to accompany this blog.
We get to talking and don’t really stop until long after closing. Eventually my body is begging me to finally get the fuck home and rest. So I wistfully say my goodbyes and leave. I eventually collapse into bed content with a bag full of musical memories I won’t soon forget. (And a few remarkable musical recommendations)
Pat Carter and Luis De Cicco (Rodeo FM) | Saturday, March 16th 2024 – The Black Flamingo, Nijlen
This show had already been on my radar since around September ‘23. I remember Jo being thrilled letting me know well in advance that half of Rodeo FM was booked to appear for a stripped down acoustic set at The Black Flamingo in March 2024. Knowing what an excited recommendation like this meant coming from him (and after a brief listen to not spoil too much for myself),I marked my calendar and passed through the ups and downs of another six months, which in hindsight flew by.
The fateful Saturday of the performance I was more than chuffed to be on the way to see Pat Carter and Luis De Cicco, half of the Berlin based Band Rodeo FM. I arrive in my home away from home, and almost immediately Pat Carter himself walks up to me asking me if I’m the author of DownSideUp. Why yes sir I am! An engaging conversation ensues ranging from musical history to commiserations about working in Communications and Marketing; from Kris Kristofferson to media planning. The tone is already set for an up close and personal musical surprise that is about to unfold before my eyes and ears.
Lights out, backdrop blinking merrily away behind them and it’s all aboard for Pat & Luis to take us on a journey through stories, time and genres. It’s difficult to label them under any genre but let’s call it a beautiful blend of bluesy, folky, rocking country influences, mixed in with a lot of anarchist punk spirit.
Rodeo FM has been called a politically left wing country band and Pat Carter remarks that a lot of the songs in the set don’t necessarily emphasise that. The title song to the newest album that came out a year ago (to the day I am writing this all down, as synchronicity would have it) however says it in just three simple words: ‘Right Wing Planet’. Here’s a full band version of that particular song, which suggests a different vibe to the intimate acoustic performance we were served at The Black Flamingo, but should give an idea of that punk mindset I was talking about.
What isn’t difficult to define, is that the first song in the set immediately travels through my senses straight into my heart. These two are part of that rare variety of artists that unfalteringly, yet effortlessly weave visual tales with mere words and notes.
Pat plays his acoustic guitar and sings spiritedly in a voice that puts me in mind of that other troubadour, Gipsy Rufina. A powerful yet delicate tone that fits well within this cosy blanket of sound.
Luis lets his fingers follow the notes across the neck of that gorgeous resonator guitar, eyes closed and seemingly one with the music. I’m reminded of one of my favourite Pixar movies of all time, Soul (I’m sorry guys, conformist commercialism incoming, but hear me out:), where musicians let the music flow through them when they get into the rapturous trancelike state of ‘the Zone’.
The beautiful instrument had caught my eye as soon as I walked into The Black Flamingo to which I noted ‘That is one sexy looking guitar!’ Somewhere further on in my notes I expand that sentiment to the sound of it; “That steel guitar is singing its own song’.
After the show I talk to Luis, fangirling over it (Like I tend to do when I fall in love with the gear). I find out that after admiring the Paul Beard signature resonator some time prior, he fortuitously bought it for a fraction of what it was worth off of a musician who couldn’t take it back with him. Of course a piece like this has its own story.
Back into the comforting arms of the music when I close my eyes myself and drift away, the words and notes flowing through the night. Earnestly I write down: ‘What is this! Love, love, love!’ Immediately I am immersed completely in that spellbinding voice and those strings strung with passion and perfection, and end up wholeheartedly content.
Near the end of the set The Black Flamingo’s most famous resident feline makes an appearance to cuddle and get a front row seat mere seconds after Pat sings ‘Miranda’, a break-up song in which the aforementioned Miranda took the cat, which is in itself a reference to the lyrics of The Way it Goes by Gillian Welch.(Author’s note: the following is not that song, just another great Rodeo FM tune, featuring Caramel getting comfortable.)
After their set, we get talking about instruments, musical influences and again much more. I am already 100% sure that this is going to be the first 2024 Black Flamingo passing that will appear on this blog. Meanwhile it is after midnight on the 17th of March, exactly a week to the day since that fateful Pete Bernhard gig in 2023. It’s only fitting I explain just how integral The Black Flamingo was to the reinvention of my special space on the web. The energy here tonight felt comparable to that night that marked my rediscovery of my love of music. A synchronicitous series of events to top off an enchanting night.
As a bonus, you have a fresh (and much more professional than my) recording to anticipate, because the duo passed by the recording studio of The Rua Room.
I was trying to resist and contain myself. I needed rest. But when you write the following about a show, and the band is playing a mere two hours away, you cannot NOT GO:
‘From gut wrenching to near growling in an instant. This man and his band are unmissable, I would follow them to the ends of the earth just to experience this again.’
– Clumsy Crane
Fuck the weariness, the energy will build me up front stage. I owe it to myself to not miss this. To drink it all in again. Here we go once more. No rest for the wicked, just the way I like it. I will suffer tomorrow, tonight I live.
After a fun afternoon and some finger-licking good Chinese food with my partners in crime (and a run-in with two not so clumsy cranes), we’re on our merry way to De Melkweg for some sorely missed Shawn James energy. The neon-light a beacon in the gloom, leading us out of the darkness and into the night.
Author’s note in advance: excuse the potato quality of the pictures and videos. I didn’t have a talented photographer to hook me up this time, so I have to work with what I’ve got. The images will give you some idea of the atmosphere though. Enjoy!
Shawn James | Tuesday, March 12th 2024, Live @ Melkweg, Amsterdam (Part 2 of 2)
Last time at De Casino, I was too busy yelling in Jo’s ear to capture the start of it all. This time I was somewhat prepared to use my great front row vantage point, to give you an actual taste, what that build up of the first song does to a person.
In Sint-Niklaas I was completely transfixed from that first note on. And again, I get wholly sucked into the music and stay there, mesmerised by what is unfolding before my eyes. Or rather, my ears because I am pretty sure my eyes close as I am gently swaying to this glorious sound, that hits me deep and intertwines with my soul.
I feel the vibrations of the sound hit my chest, travel through my bones and find their way to my gut. The surreal beauty of the moment, of the resonance of Shawn James’ voice and the fragility of the song. Two minutes in, the sound of Sage’s violin latches on, to be followed by the rest of the cavalry. That beautiful bass & expert drum follow suit. It’s on.
During Burn The Witch the whole crowd chants along and the tone is set, relishing a performance rivalling the one in Sint-Niklaas. A completely different point of view compared to last time, where I was as far back from stage as possible, on the balcony overlooking the Belgian crowd. This time however I find myself front row, right in the midst of the action. An altogether different experience to say the least, to be front stage and really get to take in the interactions with the crowd. Incoming: a rendition of Ain’t No Sunshine, that cuts straight to the heart.
HOLY FLAWLESS, I quickly scribble between songs. It’s completely unreal, near impossible, how immaculate this set, the voice and the whole of the music resonates. It seems unimaginable how this execution is actually live, so perfectly performed it is.
I am so overwhelmed that none of my subsequent notes make any sense to me in the daylight after last night. It is what it is.
Again I did not manage to put a face to the Dublin Drummer though, which I set out to do because he also deserved the spotlight. Alas, no such luck, his cymbals kept him mysteriously out of view. Next time, I suppose! Because there will be a next time.
The last note I managed to write down and can actually still interpret is: ‘Ok, crying’. If a show leaves me in (happy) tears, I know it’s been worthwhile to venture out for.
Even if I was way too tired to start with, I walk away from the venue exhilarated, invigorated and whole again. Only after darling Polexia goes for the obligatory post-show selfies, of course.
Shawn James | Tuesday, February 20th 2024, Live @ De Casino, Sint-Niklaas (Part 1 of 2)
It is well past midnight and I just got home. Adrenaline alone is going to fuel this story of yet another incredible evening in music’s embrace. When you write down ‘How can this year get any better than this?’ when it’s not even Spring yet, you know it was a fucking treat. (Especially knowing what I know of summer highlights yet to come! Clyde & The Milltailers, Bridge City Sinners, Whiskeydick & James Hunnicutt. Probably forgetting a bunch. But anyway, back to tonight!)
For synchronicity’s sake, I got invited to see Shawn James by two completely unrelated people at the same time, give or take a couple of minutes. There’s a whole other story I could tell about just how crazy coincidental it all is, and how it ties into all the synchronicity of threes in 2023, but it would take me too far off course. I NEED to tell you about what I got to experience tonight. Right now. This fucking instant.
Set the stage.
A piano. A long haired man in a hat. A voice that reaches inside and touches your soul from the first note on.
I rather enthusiastically go ‘WAAAHAAAHAAAHAAJAAAA’ into Jo’s ear (Sorry not sorry). The room goes completely silent and a huge smile is plastered on my face. It hath begun. I have fallen in love. Instantly. Wholeheartedly. Closing my eyes and becoming one with the sweet sweet music.
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
After a breathtaking and intimate moment between a man and his piano, Shawn is joined on stage by a fiddler, drummer and bassist and trades in his keys for an acoustic guitar. It is on!
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Look at this AMAZING collection of sound. Arch top bass in front. ❤
Julie & ‘amazing’ bassist Zackary Sawyer
Firstly, I have to tell you about the amazing (Ha, I said it again. I told him yesterday 20 times how amazingly amazing this amazing instrument was. There’s no better word for it though, he agreed.) arch top bass. What a beautiful instrument! Look at it SHINE:
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert – Feb 20th 2024
Aside from that, would you believe the crazy sounds coming from ‘Rage’ Sage’s fiddling? The energy that man exudes is completely enchanting from the moments he gets on stage.
Julie, Sage & Ann (thanks for the invite, babe!)
In his own words: The most metal fiddle player you know. If 2023 was the year of the banjo, 2024 is sure to turn out to be the year of the fiddle! (Ain’t that right, mister Lighting Luke!)
Especially when the instrument is played with such melancholy and pure heart. In true Julie fashion, it makes several appearances in the notes:
Have I mentioned here how much I ADORE the violin?
Man oh man (or mannekes for the Flemish people) that VIOLIN!
THAT VIOLIN!
Instant goosebumps, that violin.
Fiddle Baby!
Guitar & Fiddle 💜
Go Violinist GOOOOOOOO!
Yes Shawn, you were singing? Love will find a way? Oh yeah baby, all the love from the audience is directed at the stage. I write down ‘FUCK FUCK FUCK, what a voice, what a band, what a sound.’ And we’re just about at song two. We still have an hour and a half of this rollercoaster of bewilderment ahead.
This voice, it is all around. I feel it in my bones. My gut. My heart. I am rejoicing in the vocals and bathing in the music.
There aren’t enough adjectives in the world to describe the range Shawn has, it is beyond incredible. From gut wrenching to near growling in an instant. This man and his band are unmissable, I would follow them to the ends of the world just to experience this again.
Ear shattering chills to the bone. I use the term goosebumps so much it almost starts to lose its power. Almost. This performance brings highlight after highlight. From acoustic to borderline metal as fuck, this band and this man with that astonishing voice can do it all to near perfection. Few words can describe this musical frenzy we’ve found here in the city of Sint-Niklaas.
Some more nonsense that should tell you all about what it evoked (people familiar with my writing know this only comes out when I lose all other words for what is happening.):
Wahaaahooo!
Ohohohog
Hohohohoooo.
Whaaaatwhaaaatwhaaat.
Love! Love! Love!
If my smile could get any wider, I would become The Joker. Seriously, this show is nearly unrivalled and I have gotten to experience so much beauty in such a short time, that alone should tell you something. I haven’t often seen such a completely captivated audience, especially in larger venues.
And who should we run into after the show but beard men Rob & Juice who were at The Black Flamingo for Whiskeydick/James Hunnicutt where I also met Ann & David? YES!
De Casino, I love you! (And your Kerel Saison beer, YUM!) You bet it was a badass Tuesday, Shawn, the badassessed of the badass. We want more and we get more. Encore after encore after encore. We eat it up. The acoustic guitar has been switched for an electric and then another gorgeous arch top. Could this night get any better? You’d think it couldn’t, but it incrementally got better, better and best.
PS: Honourable mention to the fantastic drummer from Dublin who more than kept up with the rhythmic variations in the set. Much love! PPS: Actual pictures taken by a serious photographer incoming, but I just could NOT wait to throw this online!
Author’s note: I’m mostly going to let the videos speak for themselves this time. (Mostly.) Enjoy.
Joey Henry‘s Dirty Sunshine Club | Saturday, August 12th 2023 – The Black Flamingo, Nijlen
Somewhere in the lush green fields of Nijlen lies the yellow sand road leading to The Black Flamingo. This ain’t Kansas anymore, but a welcome home away from home to puddle photographer & poet Joey Henry. It’s been little over a week since he passed through Heist-op-den-Berg and I’m frankly still reeling. I invited some more Purple people to enjoy the show with me and am greeted by Juice & Rob who got an honourable mention after the WhiskeyDick/Hunnicutt trifecta.
One stroke of the strings, I close my eyes and it’s just me and the music. The first notes hit home like nothing else. The approving murmurings reveal we’re in group therapy and there’s still people alongside me to take in the musical medicine. The notes draw the audience in like a virtuous vortex, (or shall I compare it to a Kansas hurricane) and the resulting hushed silence is a nice backdrop to the sound. I knew what to expect and the sound still baffles me.I open my eyes for a second to see some mouths dropping in awe around me.
Joey Henry has a voice like a cathedral and might not even need the microphone to emphasise his songs, judging by how far away he sings from the thing. His voice goes from the deepest bass up so many registers like it’s nothing. He’s a story teller, in true Americana fashion, and every song could be its own little movie. The way he loses himself in his songs is mesmerising to watch. Closing his eyes and chasing the notes across the neck of the beautiful banjo that has seen some miles, judging from the patina on top. He plays that thing like it’s an electrical guitar, pounding the strings and bending to his amp to use the feedback as an additional layer to the music. At some point it sounds like there’s a theremin mixed into it all.
After a pretty wrecking start of summer and first week of August, all my joints hurt to the high heavens.The sound and vibrations of the music are so soothing however that the musical medicine doesn’t just heal my soul but my body as well. Joey breaks out the guitar and asks if there are any requests. Thanks to Juice, Henry goes back to his banjo, rolls up his sleeves and tears into an immensely captivating rendition of Kites. Tears, I love you’s and hugs all around after the song ends. What an experience, being here on this glorious night and letting it all wash over me.
As if all that beauty hadn’t been enough, Joey invites local band Braca’s Seppe and his accordion to the stage.
You might not believe me after seeing that video but they simply conferred two minutes about the chords and then this happened.
They lean into it and the voice and depth of these songs sear into the depths of the soul. There’s a whispered reverence as the set draws to a close with Everything kills us all on the ukulele.
As if all of these weren’t magical enough, after a well deserved break to catch our breaths, (Joey from singing his heart out, the audience from staring breathlessly at the stage.) us lucky few move to the fire pit in the back garden.
A halfmoon and clear and starry sky shines on the encores and an audience unabashedly relishing every last note that gets thrown our way. The fire crisping a happy crescendo to a night well spent.
The start of the new year, in the calm before the storm of a whole series of new events. Perfect time to reminisce about 2023 and catch up on some stories I kept up my sleeve. I wrote the following somewhere in September:
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 haven’t had the time to find the right words to describe the two nights I spent with him and his music.
Let’s just say that aside from being an immensely talented musician, he’s 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 by Joey Henry
Today is the day I finally try and demystify the wonderful moments of musical medicine I got to experience at the start of August. It started out with a good bad decision on account of a bad case of FOMO. Joey Henry‘s Dirty Sunshine Club was to hit the stage at The Black Flamingo on August 12th and Jo had hinted to me it was going to be legendary.
Joey Henry @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography – August 3rd 2023
I took note and saw he was also going to play Den Oude Ketel in Heist-op-den-Berg as well and I was faced with a terrible conundrum. Was I going to keel over if I added another day of music to the Brakrock weekend that would follow? The answer turned out to be yes, in hindsight, but luckily I managed to stay on my feet until after every bit of music had transpired.
Joey Henry‘s Dirty Sunshine Club | Thursday, August 3rd 2023 – Den Oude Ketel, Heist Op Den Berg
So, following my FOMO, I ventured out but promised myself I was just going to enjoy the show and leave lovely Polexia at home. It was no use, the music hadn’t even started yet and she came out to play! Had a nice talk with Joey (quote: ‘Jo and the Black Flamingo peeps are like family.’), ‘WhiskeyDick drummer’ Raf and then spotted Bakkie Photography. I knew then I was going to write about it anyway, so I went ahead and asked for a pre-show selfie this time. (Thinking I wouldn’t be tempted to hang out too long after the show. WRONG.)
True to my brand, I start my notes with three mentions of my top favourite instrument of 2023, the banjo!
Banjoolooooo
Special banjo with distortion
Remind me to ask him about the special banjo
Needless to say, I was already pretty excited and planted my ass smack dab in front of the stage. I managed to barely see any of the performance because I had my eyes closed from sheer delight, as can be observed in the following excerpt. (I also forgot to ask about the special banjo…)
I’m afraid I also wasn’t very diligent in my note taking. Suffice it to say the man is a musical and visual poet! His photos are like still music videos for his tunes. It all blends beautifully together. His robust yet delicate voice is a delight on this warm summer night. When he starts up the gospel tune called ‘We all fuck up’, I wrote down I found my new theme song.
Joey Henry @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography – August 3rd 2023
I smile a thank you to the people shushing some loud talkers, because how can you not shut the fuck up when these melodies float into the world. And believe me, I know how hard shutting the fuck up is. But no words from me at this point. Joey mentions he’s having too much fun on the banjo to switch to the guitar and really, I ain’t complaining here!
Joey Henry @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography – August 3rd 2023
He tells us to invite our ghosts here, before staring into the beautiful ballad I dream of horses, which leaves me crying for the second time centre stage at Den Oude Ketel. His lyrics are beautiful and speak to the imagination. I managed to write down a few snippets as I heard them.
Sleep baby, sleep, sing in the morning if that’s what you need from me.
Building a house for your heart and digging a basement in case you meet a human tornado.
She is like a seatbelt for my soul.
Very honourable mention to his amazing song about adventurous aviator Amelia Earhart.
Joey explains he is writing without worrying about genres, writing as a medicine for his people, to get the musical medicine back from his audience. He calls his shows group therapy and he is not wrong. I leave the show elated and so so happy I made the good bad decision of following the fear of missing out. I end my notes with another very excited ‘Banjoolooooo’ and a happy feeling to have more Joey Henry’s Dirty Sunshine Club ahead of me that month.
Huge thanks to Bakkie for another series of wonderful pictures!
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 that’s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember.
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.
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 & Kiel’s 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.
I’d 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 didn’t, 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 didn’t really sink in until the show on Monday though. I’d 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 don’t have to put bits of myself away. I don’t have to wear a mask or pretend, I get to wear my heart on my sleeve, where it should be! 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.
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. It’s 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.
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.) It’ll always be there alongside of me, in one form or another. I need to keep seeing it, feeling the fuel of it.
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. 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.
Part 2: Kiel Grove an Gipsy Rufina live @ De Floeren Aap, Mechelen| Monday, September 11th 2023
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 that’s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember. 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.
Because Jo had been so empathic about just how Purple he thought Gipsy was, I was pretty sure attending a second date of this tour would by no means be a waste of my time. So when I received an excited message from Ann inviting me to the shows, (Whom I’d met at the James Hunnicutt & WhiskeyDick tour back in June.) I didn’t hesitate for a second.
The fact that two very Purple people around me were pointing me simultaneously and independently in the same musical direction, was a surefire sign I was in for something special. The fact that the tour was passing through de Floeren Aap in Mechelen was an added bonus, since spending time in my home town is always a treat.
After a short bike ride on a hot summer night, I arrive at the city centre and excitedly walk over to the table where Ann is sitting with her husband David. Even though we barely had a full conversation at the James Hunnicutt shows, it feels like sitting down with old friends. We immediately get to chatting about music and fire some recommendations this way and that. Some more Purple souls called Natasha & Pablo join the company at the table and the conversation swings into an oddly fluent and fluid mix of Dutch and English, which makes me feel even more at home.
Eventually both Kiel & Gipsy also join the party before deciding who’s going to open tonight via a game of rock paper scissors. The mix of English and Dutch gets complemented by a conversation in which Gipsy speaks Italian & Pablo answers in Spanish. I feel like I’m on holiday in my own city, locked away in this hidden square right near the bustling centre of town. It’s the language of music that brings people together.
Eventually we shuffle into The Floeren Aap, to the best spot in the house, just as Kiel takes the stage first. Now, even though I was better prepared having lived through one of his sets already and was aware of what I was about to encounter, my notes still reveal a general lack of accurate terms to describe Kiel Grove. I can’t. I seriously cannot. I tried to pinpoint it in my post about his passage in The Black Flamingo, but it still doesn’t seem to do it justice. The way he sort of plays and sings his tunes is pretty damn unique.
I am again enthralled by his storytelling skills and even though I heard some of the tales before at the Flamingo, I am still just as transfixed in listening as I was just a few days ago. I’m not even going to try to retell them, you’ll just have to discover them for yourself when Kiel next crosses the ocean for a tour in these parts. I decided to capture some of the pre-song banter to give a better idea of the Kiel Grove experience. Again, the video vibe is nowhere near the real deal but it should give some impression on the spellbinding narration and wizardry on the guitar.
At this point I also want to point out that this is the 15th consecutive day these guys have been playing on their 21 day European tour. Can you imagine the general weariness you’d feel on a near month long tour of driving and playing every day in the sweltering summer heat? And it doesn’t show one bit in neither of their playing. Such is the life of the troubadour that it actually seems to only get better as the days go by. Of course, playing every day could also be seen as very good practice, which in any case really shows in the skilful way they both run through their setlists with ease.
After a break for some somewhat cooler outside air and the petting of local dogs, (Kiel is clearly missing his four legged friend on tour, but is making do with love for other people’s pets while on the road. My kinda people!) it is time for set two.
We’re in for some more Gipsy magic starring that bewitching banjo and enchanting voice. I sit there completely entranced watching him pick at his instruments, his hands a blur in the process. The spell is only broken when, between songs, I hear the voices from the terrace outside. I write down that I cannot understand how you can bear to stay outside for this. How that music doesn’t draw those people in like moths to a flame. How they seem to be able to strike up casual conversations while this is happening in the foreground.
The only cover Gipsy plays on the tour, but WHAT a discovery for me. I’m in immediate love with this song.
Maybe it’s just something in my constitution but I barely register people talking to me while this set is ongoing. Good music can never be in the background to me. Limited as my attention span may be, there is just something about good live music that seems to completely sweep me away from the perils of this mortal coil. I float in a gentle world between worlds, where my body is present in the present, but my soul is somewhere off dancing to the music and feeling its warm embrace.
Me, Natasha, Pablo & Gipsy at de Floeren Aap
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, but even when the musical instruments are put away, I’m still halfway in that magical dreamland. We grab another table at the terrace and I vaguely remember trying to voice to Kiel & Gipsy how lovely I thought the experience was. We chat some more about musical influences and horror movies that are so bad they’re good again, and I leave with a bag of recommendations I still need to check out. (After a few blurry selfies to commemorate the night of course.)
I made a plan to see them one more time on that tour, which unfortunately fell through because my body decided too much is enough. In the last part of this story, I sadly spend that night at home, resting my weary bones and mind. Thanks to the engaging conversation with Ann however, the musical synchronicity of that night would still play on. (Within this picture you can already see a hint towards part 3 of this series!)
Part 1: Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove live @ The Black Flamingo, Nijlen | Saturday, September 8th 2023
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 that’s how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember. 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.
In Part one, we find ourselves in The Black Flamingo:
As loyal readers might already know, Black Flamingo Jo and I have an uncannily similar taste in music. When he told me a few months ago I NEEDED to be at The Black Flamingo for Gipsy Rufina, I took his words as gospel, as I tend to do these days. I didn’t need to listen to the music in advance, I blindly trust Jo’s judgement in who he programs on his stage. Plus, I am loving discovering it all live before I dive into the recorded bits. He told me all about how Gipsy has been touring for nearly 20 years and how he was probably the last remaining troubadour. *TRIGGERED*
What Jo failed to mention however, was that it was to be a double bill with Kiel Grove. I get a feeling Jo likes to keep some aces up his sleeve on purpose, just to keep me on my toes. Remember how he didn’t tell me about James Hunnicutt and how well that turned out? I had a very similar experience discovering Kiel Grove. (Despite them being very different in sound and energy.) These are the kind of surprises I don’t mind on my path at all. 💜 Anyway, whereas I was already extremely excited for the night, I was yet again NOT AT ALL prepared for what was to come all the same. I’m still not sure if I can find the right words to describe these two astonishing artists, who’ve got music coursing through their very souls.
Driving up to The Black Flamingo is like arriving in a little paradise, hidden away from the big bad world. I make friends with some locals who are curious about what is going on in that shed up yonder. I get to pet their ancient dog Duck before running in, with my very Rock & Roll sitting donut in hand. One benefit of having a sore tailbone (and no longer giving a fuck if I look Rock & Roll) is that I get to throw that thing down, and go off to talk Jo’s ear off while still retaining the best seat in the house. We talk about all the music we still want to hear, some crazy musical road trip plans and all the Black Flamingo line-ups we still want to achieve.
The music draws me to my seat but alas, as it was just the soundcheck I was a little early to arrive. I get talked at by HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. I am not sure what the opposite of Purple is, but it was clear that this person was SO out of place in this safe haven of music. I will spare you the details of the conversation, only that I was getting gradually more angry at him for being generally disgusting and not taking some very clear no’s for an answer. (Don’t worry, my great pack of Purple People protectively separated me quickly from this waste of space and it’s safe to say he shall never return.)
The first notes of Gipsy finally brought sweet relief from the sexist pig and his persistence in offering up his ‘services’. *shudder* As you can tell by the above picture, taken by Jo and graciously adorned with a very broad vignette blur, my disgust was quickly replaced by my customary ear to ear smile. The contrast in atmosphere couldn’t be more stark once I get to focus on the beautiful music.
Oh deary me. I spot a banjo and my heart starts to race. One expertly fingered strum and the sound is making everything else disappear around me. This is why we’re here. To lose ourselves in the music. Were there still other people around me? There must have been? I can no longer be sure as I close my eyes and am one with the music. “I’m going to play some banjo for you, if you don’t mind.” No, I most certainly don’t mind Gipsy, I’ve been waiting for it.
This is where I fervently draw an arrow to further on in my notes where I write “And we definitely don’t mind when you play it like that!” The sound he draws from that banjo is unreal, it’s like there’s a full band on stage. He goes crazy on his pedals and the distortion makes it sound extraordinary. He swiftly moves around every square inch of his beautiful instrument and hits every fret, chord and note like magic. I’ve seen many a banjo played expertly over the last couple of months, but this is something else. Meanwhile he brings out a harmonica and seems to be playing fifteen notes at once. It is mind-blowing, it is sensational.
And his voice? What a fucking marvellous instrument it is in its own right. It is raw, hoarse and heavy but gentle at the same time. Just how I’d imagined a troubadour to sound like. As he brings out his guitar, he starts to tell the story of Viola, a brigand who fought the pope. The story was passed on to him by his grandma, about the man who lived in the mountains 200 years ago. As Gipsy (aka Emiliano) starts to sing the song in his native Italian dialect, you can hear the indrawn breaths. For the next couple of minutes you can hear a pin drop as everyone listens completely captivated. My video does that song or the experience no justice at all. Much like my words fail to honour this experience.
Purple doesn’t BEGIN to describe it. We have to come up with another colour to define this. Maybe Terry Pratchett’s octarine, the colour of magic, comes closer in describing the aura that Gipsy Rufina exudes. I am in love with the music, the songs, the words, the songs (I wrote this down twice, this is not a typo) and that voice. I am usually a woman of many words, but this performance left me actually wordless. I pick myself up out of the puddle on the ground I have become, and venture out into the cool night air to compose myself.
I have to drag myself back in because I’m about to miss Kiel Grove’s first song. There’s something special starting here. After being absolutely mesmerised by Gipsy Rufina’s performance, I thought anything that followed would never be able to compare or hold up against that set. I couldn’t be more wrong, because here I am again just completely transfixed and blown away by the first few notes floating off the stage. They’re entirely different musicians in both style and approach, different vibes as a person, (though both very much shaded Purple) but it feels like they were made to perform in tandem.
I am trying to place Kiel in the music he resembles or triggers memories of in my head. At one point in my notes, I place him somewhere between WhiskeyDick & James Hunnicutt and I also compare his storytelling to the infamous Johnny Cash. But really, Kiel Grove is incomparable. His voice is hypnotic, drawing you in with that delightful Texas accent and that deep dark timbre with some peculiar but delicious tone inflections. I could listen to him talking and singing all night, narrating the stories that he has gathered like little treasures from life on the road. The stories and songs are sometimes nonsensical, whimsical and funny, but always intriguing and delivered with a deadpan expression.
His guitar playing is also something else. He seemingly effortlessly gets a sound from his instrument which I can’t believe can just come from one bit of wood and strings. It somehow feels like there’s an invisible band around him, adding in some resonance and background. I see ONE man with ONE guitar, but I hear the soul of so much more sound. He deftly picks and plucks his strings, tells his stories and produces something indescribable.
Seeing the total package of a Kiel Grove performance is like being thrown back in time and I feel like the sofa I’m on could just as well have been placed in the mud at Woodstock. It feels like there’s echoes from a time long past interwoven in the music, almost like it doesn’t fit in this modern time. Almost, because I absolutely welcome the anachronistic feel of the web of musical muses from the past he weaves into his songs.
After Kiel’s performance I finally found some of my words to talk to both artists and briefly compliment their sets. I have no idea what I told them because it felt like being on another planet and I still didn’t have any idea how to describe what just happened to me during those two sets. I fear I still can’t fully process it all. This is an account of events, but by no means a full one. All I know is, if I ever get a chance to see these wordsmith troubadours again, I will not hesitate one moment.
I hang around the aura of awesome and get to talking to Ronny, who is as impressed as I am about what happened tonight. Turns out he is also in a band called Promise Down, who’d also played The Black Flamingo in January. Unfortunately, I was not yet aware of that piece of promised land in Nijlen at that point in time, so I had sadly missed their show that sounded really good looking back. I make a mental note to put them on my musical radar and promise Ronny to come see them soon!
After some more catch up chats with Purple Flamingoes I finally drive home smiling like crazy, a little stupefied, and a lot drunk on (love for) music.
Luckily for me, I already have the next Gipsy & Kiel tourstop circled in my calendar, which you’ll discover soon in part 2 of this series!
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 boys’ 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.
While catching my breath on the terrace, I see this beautiful rainbow in the sky. Aside from the music, the number three and feathers, there’d 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 haven’t 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.
Let’s just say that aside from being an immensely talented musician, he’s 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 ‘In the Mirror’ 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 ‘Don’t let teardrops fill your eyes’ by James Hunnicutt and of course, teardrops start filling my eyes, like this song invariably seems to do. I send him a text scolding him for this awfully amazing song and thanking him profoundly for what it keeps doing to me. 💜💜💜
It leads me to the playlist we played at my dad’s funeral starting with ‘De Grote Voyage’ by Willem Vermandere, whose house I just sat in front of earlier that day.
I’m 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 ‘We’ll meet again’ by Johnny Cash in my ears. It feels like my father is looking on and saying to me, though Johnny’s 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. It’s 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 ‘All is quiet on the Western Front’, I see a fisher boat with a huge flock of LOUD seagulls in tow.
I see you dad, I hear you. Good night.
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. It’s 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: ‘Jul, you have to go to Steenkerke’. And then when I was there, a message: ‘Jul, have you been to Steenkerke?’. 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 who’d I’d only heard of in passing before. I read (and immediately bought) his book Als ‘t 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, there’s 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 Vermandere’s 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 café 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 there’s 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 Vermandere’s 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.
DownSideUp 