PART TWO – SCENE FOUR Sunday, September 24th, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. NORTH SEA SHORELINE & BEACH BAR , NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – AFTERNOON TILL EARLY EVENING
With the work on my website done, itโs time to go out and play in the sun! Time to chase my fever dreams and finally dig my toes into the sand. My feet firmly stuck in the sea, feeling the waves splash against my legs and my hair getting tussled by the wind. And in this moment I am happy. Cue another songโs lyrics getting stuck on loop in my brain. I can’t say I even mind.
I dig my toes into the sand The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket I lean against the wind, pretend that I am weightless And in this moment I am happy, happy
Incubus – Wish You Were Here
After some more splishing and splashing through the surf, I end up near a shrimp fisher. My bird watchers book had taught me earlier that the ebb is a fine time for admiring the flocks of birds cruising the shore for some snacks. Boy, was I in for a treat myself! A gigantic flock of seagulls (quite possibly European Herring Gulls to be more specific.) is having a feast of seaside spoils. Time for a photoshoot!
Eventually my sore legs and feet drag me back to the same beach bar from yesterday where I score another swing seat. Commence three hours of languidly scrolling, writing, drawing and watching cute doggies frolic in the sand.
Instagram treats me to some Jen Razavi and I am immediately back in Duffel at the start of August. (Another of my stories on backlog, where I will tell you about the amazing Women of Brakrock.) I am falling back into memories of music, so I put on some tunes while writing this. Am not disappointed. It starts off with The Devil Makes three, follows up with some Bridge City Sinners and then falls into this one:
Well, I am not drunk as hell, but I am definitely enjoying my local beer, drinking in this amazing view and those BEAUTIFUL CLOUDS.
The music seeps in again as I am enjoying the nice weather. A slightly more prominent sea wind than yesterday rocks me gently in my seat. And in this moment I am happy. Happily enjoying the break from the chaos, both good and bad, from the last years. Joyously revelling in the good company of the music in my ears and wind in my hair.
With my shoes strung across my shoulders, I walk home barefoot. I donโt think Iโve ever felt the concept of mindfulness as deeply as I did today. The sand and water around my ankles, the sun on my face and the wind blowing all worries away.
Admiring the cloudy views and feeling the stones of a slightly altered version of my childhood under my feet. I cannot help but smile.
PART TWO – SCENE THREE Sunday, September 24th, 2023
FADE IN: INT. FAMILY APARTMENT, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – MORNING
See me sitting at the computer, trusted cup of coffee at hand, clicking and typing industriously. I am finally getting around to updating my website, reworking the layout of the basic pages. I had been meaning to do this overhaul for a while now, but I kept postponing it because life was happening. I was also having too much fun documenting all of those happenings in the words you read on here. Which is perfectly fine. Live while Iโm alive and sleep when I am dead and all that, as Bon Jovi used to sing.
Today however, I do have a use for this restful Sunday. While the coastal town is busy bustling with activity, I am avoiding all that hustle by web designing with a view. It is nice to take a break for once. Iโd been running on fumes for a while now, as I spoke about at length in the first part of this seaside series. But it wasnโt all stress and bad energy that left me in need of a break. After resurfacing from the dark abyss, I found the music again with Pete Bernhard at The Black Flamingo in March and I havenโt stopped seeing amazing shows (both large and small) since then.
On my fathers birthday in April and the second show of Peteโs I saw, I decided to get DownSideUp going again. I will be eternally grateful to Jo because as I said before , he played an integral part in me firing this website up again. Me being my neurodivergent self, I needed this space back online as soon as I could. This meant not thinking too much about where I wanted to go with this, and just throwing something together to get to posting. I didnโt want to lose myself in my overly perfectionist former marketing & communications self, and lose the momentum of writing. I am so glad I told UX, SEO and all that jazz to fuck right off.
But today, I carved out a bit of time to rework and translate. The design is still far from perfect, but from now on I live by the creed that done is always better than perfect. (And to be fair, perfection probably doesnโt even really exist, another man-made concept to steer clear of.) In any case, at least now the setup makes more sense and brings focus to what is the most important: THE WORDS! And seeing as how my bilingual narrator writes in both Dutch and English, I decided to translate the basic pages to the latter language. Most Flemish and Dutch people understand English anyway and Iโm making international friends again who wouldnโt be able to understand the Dutch bits. So there, fixed(-ish).
Hunger calls me back to reality and I venture out for some much needed carbs to accompany my lovely meaty treat I bought yesterday. Something pulls at my gut again and I step into a store on the way back. There I find this cutie calling my name. My neurodivergent ass LOVES stuffed animals, so I could not resist when I saw this soft crocco-fella.
On the way home I named him Joey Clyde, for Joey Steel and Clyde McGee, as a reminder of a spectacular Friday and this subsequent ‘finding myself’ holiday at the coast. You will remember Clyde from that fateful Pete Bernhard gig in April at Tequila Tattoos, that helped set things in motion for the reemergence of DownSideUp. Heโd promised me then to get me on the guestlist for his Bridge City Sinners show, which he graciously did. (Remember that BEST GIG OF THE YEAR bit in part one of this series? Yes, it was them. I will tell you ALL about it in due time.) Synchronicitous as always, this song starts playing in my headphones while I am writing this.
But have I told you about my friend Joey? I met him last year at Punk in Drublic and we have kept in contact ever since. He’s an amazing musician and singer in FIVE bands, an anarchist and LGBTQIA+ ally, a great thinker and self proclaimed shit talker, with his own most interesting podcast ‘Dispatches from the Underground‘. He’s also a tour manager and any band fortunate enough to count them into their entourage, should thank their lucky stars. (He will be prominently featured in the imminent Bridge City Sinners post.)
Thanks to Joey, I got to invite Jo, Tiho and Ann & David (Whom Iโd met at the Whiskey Dick/James Hunnicutt double bill at The Black Flamingo. More on them later, because the music brought us back together for Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove a few weeks ago. That is YET ANOTHER series of posts I am working on!) to experience the chaos that was that amazing Bridge City Sinners gig with me. He made that night even more special for me, because I could share the music and pay it all forward by getting those lovely people on the guest list.
When I got to the apartment, I noticed Joey Clyde had a stitch loose on his neck which I fixed with needle and thread, giving him a badass scar. Joey recently underwent a major surgery, resulting in a similarly badass scar on his neck. Musical synchronicity in full force right there. (Have you noticed this is scene three? I HAVE!)
Me and Joey at Trefpunt Gent after the Bridge City Sinners show
I will forever treasure my new crocodile friend Joey Clyde as a visual reminder of a mindblowing night and seaside holiday.
Tiho, me and Clyde at Trefpunt Gent after the Bridge City Sinners show
PART ONE – SCENE TWO Saturday, September 23rd, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. NORTH SEA SHORELINE, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – EVENING/NIGHT
Here I am, walking along the shoreline while the sun is setting behind me.
I came to look at the sunset from the vantage point of the dunes, but something pulled me to the waterโs edge. Though there are still plenty of people out and about, it feels like at this moment it is just me, the wind and the waves.
No music this time, except the sound mother nature provides. The rushing of the waves into the shoreline and the wind whooshing along in harmony.
This most soothing silent sound fills my world. A panoptic blanket of white noise takes me in its arms and shelters me from the rest of the world around me.
I spot a few washed up jellyfish and get completely entranced and start taking pictures. The light hits them just right. What an amazing sight to see.
A little sad and melancholy as well, since chances are these graceful yet delicate sea creatures are dead or dying.
Thatโs nature for you. The undercurrent brings the jellyfish to the surface, where they wash up on shore and dehydrate. The sea is as cruel as it is soothing.
In creeps the music again, (As if I could ever avoid it.) by way of this Flogging Molly Sea Shanty ‘Cruel Mistress’ worming it’s way into my brain.
But actually, the sea is neither cruel nor kind. Thatโs what man made of it, anthropomorphising a body of water out of fear and misunderstanding. The sea lives and is in turn teaming with life, both above and below the surface. Yet it can never be cruel, nor can it be kind, because it simply gives no fucks. The sea just exists in a series of ebb and flow movements, drawn in and out by the gravitational pull of the moon. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Day in and day out. To be more like the seaโฆ
Thereโs a therapy analogy that helps you look at recovery from depression and burnout (and pretty much life in general) as a series of waves. You cannot be happy all the time and you will not be sad all the time. My life over the years has felt like a road of sky-scraping peaks and rock bottom valleys. Losing so much of myself in the darkness of those deep chasms. My sense of self. My sense of wonder. The things I am good at, and the things I love doing. Writing is one of those, but photography used to be that as well.
Well, this moment in time is where I draw the line in the sand and say: no more of that. Yes there will be ups and downs, there always are in life. But from now on I will be more like the sea, a slow and steady ebb and flow. Because thereโs always a new day tomorrow, where the moon can pull on me again to bring me onto shore.ย
As I walk up the pier, smiling when I hear two kids singing โLaat ons een bloemโ by Louis Neefs.ย Another song that is filled with fond memories of family, the child within me and so many more I canโt even begin to list. I keep walking, entranced by the view, the sounds, and the activity of the night-fisherpeople.
It is again so fitting, so synchronicitous to hear this song at this point in time. See me walking into the future, with the music as my compass and guiding light. ๐
PART ONE – SCENE ONE Saturday, September 23rd, 2023
FADE IN: EXT. BEACH BAR, NIEUWPOORT BELGIUM – DAY
I am sitting at a beach bar in Nieuwpoort, the day after another one of my favourite nights and shows of the year. I have several, they keep on accumulating. Youโd think that at some point I wouldnโt be yelling โTHIS WAS THE BEST GIG OF THE YEARโ, but here we are.
I was on the way to the butcher for a delicious meaty treat for myself (I know, I am an awful animal lover!) and wanted to walk with the North Sea in full view. I followed my gut away from the busy looking bit of the dike of Nieuwpoort beach. Seeing the squirming of all the sunny Saturday tourists made me stop in my tracks, think to myself โNOPE, not todayโ and swiftly turn the other way. The reward for trusting my gut feeling was nearly instant. After noping out of the first bar (WAY too loud and hip for my taste) I settled on the second beach bar in sight. Swing chairs with a dune and ocean view? Yes, please! I settled in, put my headphones on and fired up the Spotify playlist I started with my good friend Jo.ย
How synchronicitous that this song should come on while writing this. The lyrics are etched into my soul.
Took me two years to write this song, I wanted it perfect, no wrinkles in it. Took me a long time to come clean, To be honest, the truthโs so ugly.
No matter how far I run, I always end up back here. No matter how far I go, I always end up back here. In the mirror, in the mirror, in the mirror, only in the mirror.
I always felt so out of placะต, In a crowded room, I speak too soon Yeah I put a big smilะต on my face, I canโt let them know itโs all for show, No
Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of running, Iโm tired of RUNNING
The Interrupters – In the Mirror
I saw The Interrupters earlier this year (in the chaotic gig-filled month of June I am still scrambling to write fully about.) and broke my voice while singing along to this song. It was yet another cathartic experience in this insanely amazing year of music, that keeps piling those moments on top of each other. But I digress.
As I sit lie here, contentedly swinging in my beach chair while writing, a gentle sea breeze blows through my hair. I realise I am no longer my own worst enemy. In fact, I am thoroughly enjoying my own company. No outside stressors or responsibilities. Just me myself and I, tuning the world out by way of The Best Playlist in the World. The salty sea air in my nose, my notebook at hand and barely any humans in sight. All I see is sandy dunes, a lot of sunshine with a few clouds, the beautiful North Sea and some kites floating merrily in the wind.
It all emphasises how sorely I needed this getaway after nearly three years of constant stress, darkness & self-doubt. Iโve resurfaced after one of the worst periods in my life in general. First there was the burnout and subsequent depression that I could not seem to crawl out of. Followed by a stupid incident in which I broke my foot and the slow healing process over the gruellingly boring summer of 2021. Then a string of injuries and illness in the family, resulting in the caring for (and about) both my mother and father. (Which left the summer of 2022 without music as well, aside from Punk in Drublic.)
Then came the death of my father around this time last year, and another tumble down that jet black abyss followed. The music and Purple People saved me from that one. As I was slowly crawling out of that hole, I ended a 17 year long relationship and started a nine month long, intense group therapy process which I am now halfway through. I might not have been working, but my mind never seemed to get a moment’s rest either way.
How the fuck did I ever expect to get myself out of a burnout that had been in the works for YEARS, while still burning the candle at both ends? It was delusional to think I could have done it alone. Nevertheless, I am sure that this sequence of events was not without meaning in and of itself. I am sure to my core I needed to pass through all of that to end up here. Both figuratively and literally speaking. I needed to end up here, at this exact moment in time, in this particular place in space. I will look back on this and see what a huge step it will have been in my healing process. I am beyond sure of that.
Over the last couple of years I had been having these weird anxiety filled stress dreams, about being near the sea and not finding my way to the beach. I have been YEARNING to put my feet in the ocean and feel the wind in my hair since before the lockdown of 2020. I have finally arrived and made it to my own private beachfront holiday.
I am bathing myself in profoundly precious memories in the coastal town where my grandparents bought an apartment the year I was born. I spent every summer of my childhood here with my family. I am treasuring those echoes of the past, of my inner child deep within. Itโs in the smells of the sand & sea, of the gasoline in the parking garage below the apartment. Itโs in the view of the beautifully repainted waterfront property with the words Inchโ Allah embedded in the stone. It always links back to the music, in this case the song by Adamo, an artist I dearly love courtesy of my mother and grandmother.
Being here on this second day of Autumn, enjoying probably one of the last Indian summer days of the year, feels positively magical. I spent a chaotic but intensely rewarding day yesterday getting over a LOT of fears, both real and imaginary. (Fear of heights and roller coasters, group dynamics, traffic and bad weather combined with very tight schedules and timelines. A right mess for a neurodivergent person such as myself.) It morphed into one of the best days and nights of 2023. (And that is saying something!) I was surrounded by good friends and like minded souls in the midst of the all encompassing piece of life that is The Music.
I feel like I am finally discovering myself as an actual person. And most importantly, I like that face staring back at me in the mirror, for the first time in maybe EVER.
‘The most beautiful thing you can become is yourself’ – taken (in the mirror) at Trefpunt Ghent
That all of this should happen NOW and HERE is nothing less than prophetic. It is fate. It is destiny. It is another bit of proof I am walking the right road. MY road. The road I was meant for from the start. Iโve been walking it all along, but I just now passed the bit in between where there were no lights, signage or roadmarks. It feels good to be on the other side. To be able to breathe and let go of the anxieties that have been stuck to me for all these years. I see a light at the end of the tunnel and I am walking towards it. Smiling to myself. Following where the music takes me next.
A promise to no longer be my own worst enemy. A story about neurodivergence and acceptance in three songs.
I got my ADHD diagnosis last year at the ripe โoldโ age of 36. In learning more about it, a LOT finally started to make sense. Why the life I was building for myself never really seemed to fit me. Why I never seemed to reach my own potential. However, there was still a puzzle piece missing. I got tested for both ADHD & Autism Spectrum Disorder at the same time. I had become so adept at masking myself, I did not get diagnosed as being on the spectrum. In subsequently talking to people, and reading up about autism and neurodivergence, I realised that diagnosis was wrong. I am both autistic and have ADHD. All those little quirks and difficulties I experienced all through life suddenly became one of two. The constant battle in my head between order and chaos was suddenly very clear.
My life was made of masks, one for every occasion. First I hid my true self away, out of fear of not being accepted. Of being seen as weak. Of being perceived as weird. Of being thought of as a failure. Of being known as difficult. I became the person I thought I should be, not the person I actually was. It was a recipe for disaster. I was a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. Last year I finally learned why everything always seemed SO much harder for me. Life in general, school, work and interpersonal relationships.
But when I learned about, and started to accept and work around my (self)diagnosis as AuDHD, that became a mask in and of itself. I started to apologise for myself and my way of thinking about things and my way of doing things because of what those disorders meant to me. I have ADHD so I must be LOUD and OBNOXIOUS, SORRY. At the same time I am autistic, but because I am such a LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS ADHD’er, I didnโt feel like I had the right to claim the space, peace and tranquillity I needed. It was a constant struggle with myself and not in the least, with the people around me.
This year, right around the time I was rediscovering myself in the music and the words, I started group therapy in a clinic near me. I am so unbelievably grateful for having found that path. In the last three and a half months I have learned SO much about myself and moreover, myself in the world around me. It has been challenging and confronting at every turn. But I am slowly learning to understand myself and treat myself with the same compassion and empathy with which I approach other people. Itโs a process with big ups and downs, but it is so unbelievably rewarding.
It really should not have come as such a surprise to me that I am my own worst enemy. I make life so much harder on myself by trying to do everything right. For myself, but especially for those around me. I adapted a mask very early on, hid myself away and pretended to be strong for years. Because I thought that was helping those around me, not having to worry about me and the dark abyss I was tumbling into. In reality, by pretending to be made of stone, I continued the fallacy that we should all be made of granite. That there is no room for us to crumble, even just a little.
I am now slowly learning that vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness. How itโs okay to not be okay. And how in showing and talking about my own struggles, others learn to find the words to describe their fragility and pain as well. There is beauty in recognition and unity in commiseration. We all struggle with things, why not struggle together? A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Because in sharing and commiserating, we can all grow together.
This blog started as a simple foreword to a piece about music. I was going to write about finding synchronicity in music again thanks to two shows by Gipsy Rufina & Kiel Grove. (Don’t worry, I WILL get to them!) How reconnecting with Ann, whom I met at the James Hunnicutt & Whiskey Dick gigs, led me to watch Coco again and what that meant to me in this dark September month. But the foreword developed a mind of its own and turned into this. It was meant as a sort of apology to all the bands and artists I promised my words to over the last couple of months. But in letting loose and just following the words, I realise I have nothing to apologise for.
Thereโs something to be said for continuity and following the precise sequence of events. Itโs nice and neat and comprehensible. (Some might even call it Nice & Accurate!) It is expected. Iโm usually a stickler for doing things by the rules. It brings order to my disorderly brain. But I keep losing myself in trying to do everything perfectly. In thinking more of what my actions (or inactions) might signify to others, than in realising how hard those thoughts are weighing ME down.
I am trying to break away from that to preserve my own sanity and build myself back up in the best way possible. So I donโt get burnt out from the thing that was curing my burnout. So for now I am done following the rules and promises I made in my head, because they were preventing me from telling the stories.
From now on the stories will be posted as they present and write themselves in my head. The stories recorded during this magical, musical summer (and beyond) WILL get told with all the love I felt while experiencing it. But in their own time, in my time.
Hereโs to chaos and anarchy. Hereโs to doing things my way.
RESIST. UNLEARN. DEFY.
An aside about the songs: The three songs in this blog are by a band that has a very special significance to me. Remember that message board I wrote about in my last blog on Terry Pratchett? Well, it was called Incuboard and was dedicated to Incubus. Sort of, anyway. I met some very special people there and I still remember that period very fondly. I lost track of the band a little around when they brought out Light Grenades. But I will never lose track of their previous albums and songs. They helped make me who I am to this day. They ring as true now, as they did back then.
I subconsciously chose three songs off the same album Make yourself. This was not planned, even though the title of this blog was inspired by the title song from that album. Synchronicity I guess. In threes, as always. The cover picture is inspired by a lovely art book the singer made, called White Fluffy Clouds.His art very much inspired my own. The piece below was my vague interpretation of the cover art of his book.
Part 1: An ode to The Black Flamingo Part 2: An ode to The (Purple) Black Flamingo people Part 3: Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicut: Live @ The Black Flamingo Part 4: Post show Purple Flamingos!
I missed seeing Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicutt perform at Muziekcafรฉ Titanic, a day after their wonderful performance at The Black Flamingo. Sadly I would be in Amsterdam and miss another gig at this amazing place I still need to check out. Iโve heard of so many great bands playing there already. I will be led there soon, I am sure. (Donโt worry, I also had A LOT of fun in Amsterdam, first with the incomparable The Interrupters and afterwards in a pianobar. More on that later.) But no fear, there was still to be a sequel!
So, this story is going down at Den Oude Ketel in Heist-op-den-Berg, 19th of June. Fun fact, if you look that place up on Google Maps, you can see the show advertised on their window. Itโs as if the Google Maps people were like โWe have to commemorate this special event by sending out our mapping carโ. I canโt say I blame them.
Now, this was my first visit to Den Oude Ketel, shamefully, because if that place was near me, I would probably live there. I was too focussed on the performances and the experience to really look around and take it all in, but I am pretty sure youโll be finding me there more and more in the not too distant future. From the few impressions I got, it felt like a very Purple Place.
James Hunnicutt @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
Big shout out to Robin aka Bakkie Photography for being so kind as to share his pictures of the night with me. Thank you very much, I had a REALLY hard time choosing since there were so many great ones. โค
Before we travel to Heist-op-den-Berg though, I need to tell you about the road to the show. I had been exchanging excited messages with Jo again throughout the day. I was humming โDonโt let teardrops fill your eyesโ ALL DAY. I had collected four jet black feathers during a long walk in my surroundings. Iโm not sure why I picked them up, which I voiced out loud. Someone told me finding feathers meant someone wanted to tell me something. Okay. I didnโt put two and two together. I was too excited to see my three new favourite artists, to read into the synchronicity.
It had been a HOT day. I wanted to wear something nice, that didnโt feel too constricting. I turned over my whole closet, nothing worked and in a panic (time was running out fast) I picked some things at random, figuring I am okay with the outfit. Too hot to even care, really. I step into the car to drive myself to Heist and notice them. The feathers on my dress. Like the feathers I picked up during the day. Like the feathers between the strings in Jamesโ guitar. (Check them out in the pic below, it’s a little blurry because the focus is on the Reverend, but you can just make them out.)
Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicutt @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
My playlist on the radio seems haunted by songs that connect me to my father. I laugh along with this fun soundtrack, that seems so specific for this drive. When I pass a cart drawn by two Belgian Draught horses (Also a shared passion!) it gets too much and I say out loud โYeah dad, I hear you. I am on my way there.โ After I park, a brief struggle ensues with trying to get the electric car charged. I eventually give up and run after someone I suspect is going the way I am. He wasnโt and I am not where I need to be. Shit. I start running again, this time in the right direction. I finally located Den Oude Ketel.
I am greeted by a loud โJulie, you made it!โ and a hug. It takes my frazzled and heatstruck brain a while to understand what happened but I finally utter an enthusiastic hi back to Fritz. I see James and get the same genuine and excited welcome. I see all the Purple Flamingos sitting at a table, surrounding the Reverend. I do what I normally donโt EVER do, go up and hug the Reverend and even give him an awkward kiss on the cheek out of pure consternation of ‘what is my life right now’.
Later that night, the awesome Tiho would help me make sure I got this picture with all three musical magicians or magical musicians (I’m not sure which of these is the more accurate statement, so I am leaving them both.) together.
Julie plus three magical musicians or musical magicians, Fritz, James & the Reverend. (Look at me beaming through tear stained!)
My mind is melting, both from the heat and the welcome and I end up yelling to the table something along the lines of โHI AND I LOVE YOU GUYS BUT I NEED A DRINK I AM SO HOT WHAT IS THIS HEAT I HATE ELECTRIC CARS.โ And run in without even checking in and letting the bar people know I did pay for my ticket. A quick look around while waiting for my drink says this is a place that would be my go to bar if it was a little nearer. Den Oude Ketel has that great dive-bar energy I love, with nice people all around. I gather my manners and go say a proper hi to everyone, hydrated and ready for a great night.
James Hunnicutt @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
James Hunnicutt starts off pitch perfect as always. He claims he gathered up two to three frogs in his throat over the last few shows, but if that is how he sings with frogs in his throat, I should invest in frogs. Now, this is where I stopped taking notes. I was too transfixed to even try and put it into words right there. I was swaying on my feet, drinking in the music. All around me I saw smiles and happy people. And then the moment was there, I heard Fritz call out โthatโs my cueโ and run to the stage. It was time for the song (and dance) I have come to love so much.
What you don’t see in this video? Me, sitting on the floor in front of the stage, filming with one hand, and dancing along with the other. The more he sings โdonโtโ, the more teardrops fill my eyes and stream down my face, past my huge smile. Now, usually, crying on the floor of a dive-bar wouldnโt exactly be a good sign mental health-wise. In this case, it is the culmination of a mourning process and I have found peace.
James Hunnicutt @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
Notice the black bird sticker on this guitar? Yeah, part of the feathery synchronicity. I could go on, superlative after superlative about how great Jamesโ voice actually is, but much like the video I took, I donโt think my words can do it justice. You just have to experience it to know just HOW good it is. By the way, I am not sure if I already talked about his guitar playing. Because of that voice, you might forget to notice how incredibly well and with how much passion he plays the guitar. It is really a sight to see and sound to hear. This video doesn’t do it much justice, but try to hear through the awful sound quality. It’s also got a little of that lovely Fritz Hetfield/Cash bass as a cherry on top!
It is break time. Time to go back to the terrace and get a little breather in the night air that is slowly cooling. A few drops of rain bring a delightful relief from the heat. And then we spot it. A HUGE FULL RAINBOW. At 10pm. MAGIC? Yes. Tiho saves the day again by running in and bringing out the rainbow man we believe is responsible for this spectacular sight.
Another huge thank you to Jo for taking this impossible shot of me and James (rainbow tie dye shirt and feather dress included), somewhere under the rainbow in Heist-op-den-Berg. In the process of revelling at the beauty of nature, we almost missed Whiskey Dick starting their set inside. We run in, just in time for an epic time.
Again, what can I say about these men that I haven’t already. That voice, that guitar playing… It is mesmerising to the point where I barely have the words to describe it. It also made me forget how to make decent videos because all I could find on my phone was this short bit that doesnโt come close to doing them justice, but I am sharing it anyway.
Again, I was paying too much attention to the show and didn’t take that many notes. One of the few notes I have that makes any sense is ‘Fuuuuuuuuuck, that guitar‘. I also mention that I am prepared to believe the Reverend when he says that what he does with his guitar is magic. And that heโs even better than Kyle Gass from Tenacious D AND HE DOESNโT EVEN KNOW IT.
The Reverend – Whiskey Dick @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
But you can tell from these above and below pictures just how much he enjoys making the music. You can practically SEE the magic coursing through his veins.
The Reverend – Whiskey Dick @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
I go on to write about Fritz that heโs the best goddamn rhythm guitar Iโve ever heard, more energetic than Jack Black, and I donโt say shit like that lightly.
The Reverend – Whiskey Dick @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ June 19th 2023
I write to my dad: ‘Heavy metal honky tonk, who ever thought we’d have a genre that fit both of us equally’. Yeehaw, motherfucking Yeehaw man!
And somewhere in all this chaos of feelings they start to play this song. I’d heard it first in The Black Flamingo and it had the same effect on me as Teardrops by James. They wrote this song for Dimebag Darrel, but in my mind it was instantly linked to my dad and my (and our) fallen heroes in music. From Johnny Cash to Luc De Vos. My dad used to text me religiously when there was anything to do with either of those artists on tv. He understood the love for the person behind the music as much as I do.
This video is almost 20 years old, that’s about how long they have been playing together!
So they are playing this song, and exactly like in The Black Flamingo, I start crying again. Having noticed this, Tiho rushes over and I am quickly comforted by an understanding and consoling hug. The musical magic of the Purple People emphasises again that I am exactly where I need to be in space and time.
Right before the show is about to end, there is a special treat! The sound man of Den Oude Ketel takes place behind the drums and plays a song with Whiskey Dick and James who has been the honorary third member for these past few songs. Kudos to the sound man by the way, the music sounded spectacular all through the night. Having followed bands around a little, itโs not always a given that the sound is so well balanced. (Come to think of it, thatโs a compliment I also have to extend to Jo and crew at The Black Flamingo because the sound is always spot on there as well.)
I will end this with the following song. Fritz was delighted so many people turned up to see them on a lousy Monday night. He told us โHereโs where we tell Tuesday to kick our ass.โ He was right, Tuesday did kick my ass because I left there way later than anticipated and drunk as hell on music. I have no regrets.
JAMES HUNNICUTT & WHISKEY DICK – Monday, June 19th 2023 – Den Oude Ketel, Heist Op Den Berg
Part 1: An ode to The Black Flamingo Part 2: An ode to The (Purple) Black Flamingo people Part 3: Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicut: Live
Part 4: Post show Purple Flamingos!
So the show is over, alas. But it is still coursing through me. It is now part of my blood and my genetics. (I know that’s not how genetics work, that was a hyperbole.) But I am walking on air. I totally forgot to yell at Jo. Like I could ever yell at him. I talk some more with the Ann/Mia about everything music. (I cut her off quite abruptly mid conversation when Whiskey Dick was starting. Sorrynotsorry. You get it!) And then I am suddenly next to this man.
The Reverend. My thoughts have not found the proper order in my head so I loudly proclaim something along the lines of: HELLO DO YOU KNOW HOW GREAT YOU ARE AND WHAT IS THIS MAGIC ARE YOU A WIZARD. (Yes, I have the uncanny ability to talk without punctuation when properly fired up.) He accepts the weirdass compliment, that was actually a question, with a blushing smile. He just does something he tells me. He doesnโt really know what he does, he just jams out. He didnโt have a classical background in learning music. It seems to me he doesnโt know HOW MAGICAL he is! This is not false modesty. I probably embarrass him more by doubling down on my point that they might even be better than my beloved Tenacious D. I use more superlatives, then tell him thanks for the show and turn around so other people get the chance to gush to him.
I think of how the talented people in the movie Soul go into their zone when they make music. How their talent takes over and they are one with the artform they choose. (Or which has chosen them.) I believe the Reverend has talent like that. So much so, he doesn’t even fully grasp his own gift. I am reminded of this quote by another very Purple Person.
It doesn’t stop being magic just because you know how it works.
Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men
I almost bump into Fritz. I go on another tirade of DO YOU KNOW YOU ARE BETTER THAN TENACIOUS D and vaguely tell him why I am there. How Jo lured me into them without me even knowing it. How theyโd gone from people Iโd never heard about to ONE OF MY FAVOURITE bands with just this show. He seems pleased with being the love child of Hetfield and Cash in my mind’s eye. I tell him in as few words as I can manage about my dad, the synchronicity, the Purple People and the birth of Polexia Miller. And he totally GETS all the weird rambling crazy that spills out uncoordinatedly from my mouth.ย
We talk some more about band ideas and personas. I tell him about something I have in the works and even though it is partly impossible for him to understand what exactly it is, he still understands and loves the gist of it. I make another mental note about Los Bastardos and how I need to hear more about it asap. Also, the 20 other bands the three men are in. I have a big back catalogue ahead of me!
And then Fritz calls in James Hunnicutt whoโs being fussed over by some other fans. I tell my same story and about how I am going to write about this night and that it might (will most definitely) turn into a series. James listened transfixed to my idea about being the rock journalist and the band-aid and how my blog is just that. He is so much into the idea that he invites me along for Muddy Roots, to come as their guest and tell the story of that amazing festival in between.
He understands how me doing this because of and for the music, can also be a big help to the music, artists and festivals. Artists are almost never good at self promotion. So I yell about how great they are for them. So they donโt have to. (Also because I can’t stop it. It is an affliction. A wonderful, magical affliction, Lisa!)ย
Unfortunately it would later turn out Muddy Roots doesnโt share this vision for the future (Yet), so no guest-pass for me. It is probably for the best, because my body was rejecting my rock and roll lifestyle, and Iโm not sure if Iโd have survived a three day festival at that point. Though another of my new musical obsessions Van Tastik played a fantastic set there, I am sad to say I missed it.
But something tells me Iโll be seeing him soon. And there’s talk of a Muddy Roots trip with the Flamingo people for next year, so there is that to look forward to too! Plus, for anyone interested: Whiskey Dick and James might be coming back to The Black Flamingo next year, but I digress.
At some point I start gushing to James about his impossible voice, in much the same way as I talked about the Reverendโs guitar playing. He reacts in the same completely-oblivious-to-his-own-actual-talent way. These people are special. And they donโt even know HOW special.
After this sea of words floating from my mouth towards the musicians, returned by their encouragement and interest, I am left with three big bear hugs and a huge smile on my face. (If it wasn’t yet clear from the above photos.)
My dad is in ALL of this. He is here, in the music. In the people. Theyโre all so goddamn Purple. This is where I am supposed to be. This is what I am supposed to do. This is what it is all about.
Somewhere in the chaos that is this night, I get to talking to two very bearded dudes. One of them had already signalled to me with a thumbs up during the performances. โListen first, talk laterโ, he said between songs. (My kinda person!) Afterwards he asked me if this was the first time seeing all of this. (Was it that obvious? Yes.) He had seen me fall in total love throughout the entire night. My WOOโs getting louder and longer, and tears and smiles beaming on my face. He is Rob and the other one is Papa Juice , former owner of Bacchus cafรฉ, apparently one of the hotspots I have the misfortune of missing in its existence. (I think that man represents a series of blogs in itself, so Iโm not even going to take that side step now!) You can hear James mentioning him in the intro to Bad Girl.
Important to know is that the one guy (Papa Juice) owned a bar and the other guy started frequenting the bar. Why, you ask? Because of the music, obviously. His daughter, who is about my age, told him to come see a gig there with her. And then dad never left. Heโs seen Whiskey Dick there before and followed the music to The Black Flamingo. This story is special for so many reasons. The music, the family connection and the new start it represented to him. So unbelievably symbolic for this night and this music and this month of synchronicity that is June.
After some more talking, I discover that Papa Juice has a corvid tattoo (I forget if it was a crow or raven) and he brings in James because he has one too. And you already know of my obsession with this subspecies of bird.
And with this, I set the stage for part five and the road to Den Oude Ketel in Heist-op-den-Berg where I will meet all of the above Purple People again for the next James Hunnicutt/Whiskey Dick double bill I will attend. The road to it was both literally and figuratively littered with feathers.
Part 1: An ode to The Black Flamingo Part 2: An ode to The (Purple) Black Flamingo people Part 4: Post show Purple Flamingos! Part 5: Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicut: Live @ Den Oude Ketel
Part 3: Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicut: Live @ The Black Flamingo
Stardate, Wednesday the 14th of June. We have finally arrived at the centre of it all. It is a beautiful, hot summer day. In driving up the yellow sand road towards The Black Flamingo, it clicks I have never seen this place in the daylight. It is even nicer and more peaceful than I could ever imagine. The little chapel with the Mary statue draws my attention and drags me back in time to my childhood. My dad would have loved this and probably hung it in his backyard, as well. I donโt have much time to mull on this however, because the music pulls me into the doors.
You have to know first, Jo and I have been excitedly exchanging messages about the night. He sent me a picture of three bearded men who seem to be having a good time in the garden of The Black Flamingo.
I ask who is who in the picture, so I have a better idea what to expect for the night. Somewhere my wires got crossed and I thought I was going to see a Reverend-something (There are a lot of them in the type of music I am expecting.) as the opener and that Whiskey Dick was a James and a Fritz. I had a vague idea I was in for a good night.
Iโd never heard about that Reverend, but the attempts at listening to Whiskey Dick, (While simultaneously trying to tame my hyperactive brain into writing about other music.) had proven entertaining enough. And as I said, word from Jo was good enough. He was VERY excited, so I knew it had to be GOOD. I was amply amped for Whiskey Dick. I thought I was prepared for what was coming. I settle into one of the comfortable recliners and let the notes start to wash over me.
I WAS NOT PREPARED! Not in the slightest. Because first I am totally confused about who I am seeing. Thatโs the Reverend! Wait, is he a Reverend? No, his name is James. Oh. Okay. Who cares about names anyway at this point. THIS IS AMAZING. I didnโt write down much, because most of the time I was just staring in awe. Funny that Jo captured this song Bad Girl when it is one of the only ones I reference in my notes. (Great minds and all that!) Listen to THIS!
I barely remember where his performance ended and Whiskey Dickโs began, because they like to get on stage with one another. So next up is a jumbled mess of two performances that intertwined so much Iโm not even going to try and untangle them. So from now on we have three key players. There is James (Hunnicutt), the opening act and occasional backing vocals to Whiskey Dick. (Weird to call him that, because his voice could never (and should never) just be in the back, but we will get to that.) Then we have Fritz and the Reverend who make up Whiskey Dick. Now that I got the confusion out of the way, letโs get on with the show.
James Hunnicuttโs voice is indescribably great. At one point he praises Fritz for his great bass voice but James goes from high to low without batting an eye. The notes are crystal clear and he can hold them for impossibly long. I am sitting there, absolutely gobsmacked. Thinking of all the ways I was going to yell at Jo: HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN! Nicely, mind you. As I said, I get loud when excited.
So, THAT VOICE. But more than that, he pounds his guitar and moulds it to his words. Chords that go so deep you can almost feel it in your teeth. His string gives out, but he plays the song until the end. But it was his final song, so thatโs a nice magical way of rounding up.
The audience wants more though. He gives in with a request by one of the audience members. I later find out she is a really nice lady, who breathes music and lyrics as much as I do. This is her tattoo. Her name is Ann but her alter ego is Mia. (MIA! Like Gorki. In my head at least.) She told me the whole story but I was too entranced to write it down. Look at what it says. It could be my new life motto.
Sheโs followed James Hunnicutt for years now. I totally understand why. The song is โDonโt let teardrops fill your eyesโ. He starts playing it, Fritz and the Reverend do a silly dance in the back and sing along. The more he sings โdonโt let teardrops fill your eyesโ, the more teardrops fill my eyes. See for yourself.
(The dance you see happening behind James is a thing that has started during a show when he felt sad to play that song. People from the audience started dancing it behind him to make him feel better and encourage him. From then on, it has been almost mandatory to dance the dance. If that isn’t Purple as fuck, I don’t know what is.)
The nonsense in between the songs is Purple. James, Fritz and the Reverend are three friends making music and touring. They love what they do and they love doing it together. (There is talk of them actually doing it together, as Tres Bastardos, but I will go into that another time. I will find out more, but what I heard made me SQUEE with joy.) It all adds a layer to the magic. They have voices and sounds that go all through your body, to the tips of your toes. This is the kind of mindfulness I can dig. Feeling the music rush through you, both physically and emotionally. James takes a seat in the audience while Whiskey Dick takes the stage. He pets Caramel and comments on HOW GOOD his mates are.
So I already told you a bit about Fritzโ voice, so I had already settled down on that while writing my next notes. I start off by going crazy about the Reverend and his guitar playing. I address him directly: โReverend, seriously, one would start believing in God seeing such virtuosity. Effortless virtuosity no less, while chain smoking and quickly putting his butt between the strings and batters away on them. This is also where I call him the silent force of the group and compare him to Kyle Gass from Tenacious D.
You must know by now I am a HUGE fan of the D. The day before The Black Flamingo show, they had played at Vorst Nationaal. I hadnโt been there and up to this point I was a little bummed out. Jo and Tiho had gone and I had been SO jealous and reliving my night with Tenacious D in my head. Let me tell you. Whiskey Dick made me forget about missing Tenacious D. Like, Iโd seen that and I hated Vorst Nationaal anyway. And the energy of this band reminded me so much about what I had lived there.
At this point, I feel the need to mention that by calling the guitar picking Reverend the silent force, I am not saying Fritz isnโt completely fantastic in his own way. Because the power chords he pushes from his guitar are mental. And that voice, itโs like James Hetfield and Johnny Cash had a love baby. Actually, the music also holds vaguely in between those genres. They themselves call it Yeehaw Metal and I am here for it.
I am in love with that voice, and entranced by that guitar playing. How the fuck do you get that kind of sound out of a very normal acoustic guitar. At one point it sounds like intricate violin playing. I see the Reverendโs feet move over the pedals in front of him and am completely transfixed. I make a note to ask him after the show โHOWโ.
I feel like I am in second grade. I remember liking my teacher so much, he always made me smile. At one point I asked him if I could stop smiling, because my face hurt. This is how I feel right now. I am in the comfortable embrace of the nice couch letting it all wash over me and wrap me like a warm blanket. A metaphorical one, because it is still really hot out. Pour one out for our fallen heroes they sing. This is life.
All good things must come to an end, so unfortunately itโs the same in this case. But they didnโt leave without going out with a bang. There is one song they havenโt played. It was especially requested for Misses Black Flamingo, who usually doesnโt attend, but who was front and centre for Whiskey Dick. The song is a cover of Purple Rain by Prince. He is one of those artists I donโt have much of an opinion about one way or the other. (Yes, that happens!) But Whiskey Dickโs rendition of the song made me a fan of Purple Rain. Not only because it has Purple in the title. It was a perfect ending to an already perfect night.
Iโm not only enjoying that cover immensely through my own eyes and ears. Most of that song I am watching this scene of mother and son bonding over so many different meanings to a song. Not just what is in the words, but what it represents to them. To Tiho it is about his friend who died too young. But he is with us in spirit, because his picture is a permanent fixture on the wall of The Black Flamingo. There may be a lot of music loving spirits here.
It is the end of the show but not the end of the night because I still have yet to meet these three amazing human specimens. And some other class act people.
But Iโll have to keep that for Part four: Post-show Purple People. Because there is still so much story to tell.ย
JAMES HUNNICUTT & WHISKEY DICK – Wednesday, June 14th 2023 – The Black Flamingo, Nijlen
Part 1: An ode to The Black Flamingo Part 2: An ode to The (Purple) Black Flamingo people Part 3: WhiskeyDick and James Hunnicut: Live Part 4: Post show Purple Flamingos! Part 5: Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicut: Live @ Den Oude Ketel
Part 2: An ode to The (Purple) Black Flamingo people
At this point in the story, weโre hanging out post Clyde McGee/pre Pete Bernhard in the lovely sunny garden of Tequila Tattoos. The two little doggos that hang out there flit from person to person, demanding pets everywhere. Thatโs how we get to talking to Mister Black Flamingo himself, weโll call him Jo, because thatโs his name and also very much shorter than writing Mister Black Flamingo himself. Heโs accompanied by his son Tihomir (what a fucking BAD ASS name, by the way!) and since weโre all animal lovers, we bond instantly over the nice dogs.
I took a while before I realised who I was actually talking to. (That happens a lot more to me than you would think, especially when there are animals nearby.) When I realised he was the owner of THE BEST PLACE IN THE WORLD, I suddenly remembered I used to do this thing called writing. Like in general, but also more recently, specifically about music. I tell Jo that I would love to write a piece on the best hidden venue in the world and start telling him what kind of articles I already wrote. “Yeah, I did this bit on Amanda Palmer and also this photo thing on The Dresden Dolls”, full-on expecting the only half interested “who?” I usually get it when I tell people about my idols hyperfixations. But, get this. He not only knew of them, but he really liked them.
So in true Julie style, I start bombarding him with questions and recommendations and I go into full hyperfixation mode. If I hadn’t already lost my audience at the “who?“, this is where the rest usually take off. But not in this case. I had found my match, someone who is as hyper-fixated on music as I am. It wasnโt the longest of talks because we had to cut it short for the Pete gig and after that I got distracted by the whole setlist thing.
When I got home, I sent him the link to Amandaโs solo gig in New Zealand which felt so much like the one I wrote about in Antwerp. As you can maybe tell by the above, my self esteem was apparently so low, I wasnโt expecting much of a reaction. But then. He responded in exactly the way I would have. He GOT it. And we havenโt stopped messaging since. Whatever kind of crazy theory, idea or brain fart I throw at him, he just simply gets and runs with it.
Him, and his band of merry vagabonds at The Black Flamingo, might be just as much the instigator to my Purple People vision as that specific song by Gogol Bordello is. A lot of the synchronicities I talked (and will talk) about between the first Pete Bernhard gig and today have also been related to the music, The Black Flamingo as a safe space and all the people surrounding it, and Jo and his son Tihomir in specific.
The synchronicity in threes has not stopped since. Jo sees them everywhere now too, much like the Purple People. I am infectious! I start the Pete, me and The Devil Makes Three series off with a reference to a certain black flamingo with pink on the inside and me as a pink flamingo who is black on the inside. Turns out we’re both just different shades of purple.
Also birds. (Another hyperfixation of mine, go figure!) Lots of synchronicities with birds and feathers. Not just flamingos; black, purple or otherwise! Like the Crane, which I use for a nickname since my name is Van Craen. Turns out Jo has a taxidermy Crane. The road to WhiskeyDick and James Hunnicut was also littered (both literally and figuratively) with them (feathers, not cranes, thankfully), but I will get to that in one of their parts of this series.
I genuinely believe that I missed that first The Rabids gig for a reason. I feel like I needed to discover The Black Flamingo exactly when I did. A bit earlier and I might have missed the magic and the synchronicity. Life had knocked me out. I was battling my inner demons when my dad first suffered and then died. Nothing made me happy or hopeful. The world was too dark to see the pin pricks of light. Another thing I feel deeply (Not necessarily believe, but FEEL, so I chose to believe in it.) is how my dad had a hand in getting me there. It was all so intrinsically linked to each other with so many weird and wonderful signs and timings, it has been a helping thought in healing.
Nothing wrong with your brain…just a little bit jumpy I guess ๐
Jo
So what I have found here is a place full of people where I donโt have to pretend to be normal, because normal is boring. They see the passion behind the awkward and clumsy and are fully passionate about something too. They see the Purple. They ARE the Purple. I give a crazy band idea and everyone is in for it. (To be continued!) I blurt out all the wrong words in the wrong order and they understand the meaning behind the uttered words. When I am worried if my crazy theories and stories on here are even remotely understandable to read, I get a message that tells me they are.
In discovering new friends at The Black Flamingo, I found enough light in the dark to start up my old blog again, and then in turn synchronicitously getting back in touch with all the people I forgot I counted as friends. Music is one of them, but I also mean some actual Purple People in my life which have resurfaced. So for them, but also for all the people struggling with depression or burnout or whatever you (want to) call it. You see enemies everywhere, but thatโs only because you are looking through the wrong glasses.
In the words of The Rabids:
AND YOU SEE ENEMIES EVERYWHERE FEEL LIKE YOU DON’T BELONG ANYWHERE YOU FEEL ABANDONED BUT YOUR PEOPLE ARE STILL THERE DON’T TELL YOURSELF THAT THEY DON’T CARE
The Rabids- Enemies Everywhere
And while simultaneously giving me LOADS to write about, Jo and The Black Flamingo, and everything that happened in the wake of my first visit there, gave me the actual confidence to find and use my voice again. So I started writing, writing and writing and I have barely stopped since. Meanwhile, Jo is always one of the first ones to read and like my blog. Better yet, he even started his own blog about music. While you wait for part three in the series, in which I ACTUALLY see the band for the first time and talk about their music, you can go read his The Blog Flamingo!
Beware though, you might also go down the rabbit hole of hyperfixation on music, because I canโt believe some of the things he recommends to me. Like, I canโt believe they havenโt been in my life until now and HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED THIS!
Like this guy. Wait for the voice. My immediate thought was ‘My dad would have loved this!’
So when this man tells me to not forget to come check out WhiskeyDick at The Black Flamingo, I say YES. Even though I have no idea who they are and bad imagery in my brain links them to about the complete opposite of what they turn out to be. Even though I barely have the time to even think about listening to them since it seems thereโs a show every day. So I say fuck it, and just go.
PS: There is a ridiculous lack of photos in this post. Itโs the musicโs fault. See, I went there last Saturday in my Flamingo-est of outfits, fully prepared to take just one pic with Jo and Tiho and some internal shots of the place. I was NOT going to write about the bands there, I didnโt CARE HOW GOOD THEY WERE. I was there with a purpose. To enjoy the music and to get some pictures and hang out with nice people. About Three seconds into Kevlar, I was writing merrily away in my notes, and though I did notice SO MANY things to photograph for this post, I just simply forgot.
So one day, I will add photos. Or make the photos into another thread of this series, who knows. Thereโs also talk of a blog dedicated to all the animals at The Black Flamingo, I heard. (Where, who told you that?) But for the next few posts, this series will finally talk all about WhiskeyDick, James Hunnicutt and why the fuck they are so special. (And all of the synchronicities in between. And more of the Purple People.)
Onto part 3: Wherein WhiskeyDick and James Hunnicutt rock The Black Flamingo and leave me unexpectedly crying.
Part 2: An ode to The (Purple) Black Flamingo people Part 3: WhiskeyDick and James Hunnicut: Live Part 4: Post show Purple Flamingos! Part 5: Whiskey Dick and James Hunnicut: Live @ Den Oude Ketel
Yes, you read that title right. This is a series about a band and their opening act, but in this specific post I will not mention much of either. I am pretty sure they will understand. (I will sing their praises loudly and proudly later, donโt you worry!) But this story begins somewhere in March, long before their actual gigs in June. Long before I had even heard of these three men. (Three! It is ALL connected.) The story of The Black Flamingo and its people (and amazing animal friends) is too integral to the story of the music. And moreover, too integral to the story of me and of DownSideUp.
It all began with an invitation to see Static. โIt’s in this little place in Nijlen, you will love it there!โ Here’s the band at rehearsals in that very same place! (They are the artists in residence, yessiree Bob!)
I remember hearing good things after their (and my) friends of The Rabids played there in August. Unfortunately I couldn’t attend that gig, but fortunately they made me a video! (And I have had the pleasure of seeing them play at The Black Flamingo since this all started.)
So, two months after sticking my toe in to feel the water at Trix with Amyl and The Sniffers (who also got their very own three parter), I venture out to see live music again. As you can read in that post, the timing of the Amyl and The Sniffers gig had been horrible. I did not feel like going out. I couldn’t give two fucks about music at that point. But that band sparked something in me, kickstarting me for the night everything changed and the light went on again. I wasn’t sure about going out to see Static that day, but because I really like them and was curious what all the fuss about The Black Flamingo was about, I reluctantly ventured out.
I now note, trying to track down all the dates, that I unknowingly crashed Jo’s Birthday Bash! (Happy belated birthday Jo, I’ll try to do better next year when I actually already know you before crashing the party.) Anyway, I had a great time. I talk to a few people I haven’t talked to much before and discover there is a BAR CAT.
Not just any bar cat, meet the beautiful and cuddly ball of fur that is Caramel. (LOOK AT THOSE PAWS.) She loves live music (unless it gets too loud *cough*Static*cough*) and milk creamer from a fancy plate. Anyone that knows me, knows I have now fallen in love with this place the second I laid eyes on her. There is music, nice people AND a cat? And the nice man behind the bar gave me a creamer to give the cat. I mean. That’s like my perfect night out, can I get a season pass please?
So as you can tell by the above video, Static was really nailing it as well. The night was a success. Not a mind blowing success yet, but at least I had something resembling fun. It got me into gear again and I went to a few more shows before finally driving back on the yellow sand road towards The Black Flamingo at the end of March. I had been told some Pete guy would play there. You know, from The Devil Makes Three. Had you told me then about the ride that one night would take me on, I would not have believed you.
Julie and Caramel the cat bonding before or after The Rabids gig.
As you can tell from my three part love song, I pretty much fell in love with music again that night. I realised music needed to be a big part of my life again. And that I needed to hold it there, because it is such an important puzzle piece to surviving in a world that is not made for me. Music and animals are my only two off-switches. Without them, my head is constantly on high volume. I need loud music or purring to achieve silence in my head, something like that.
We already had tickets for The Devil Makes Three in June but I decided to go see Pete at Tequila Tattoos about a week later. (Still kicking myself for missing the Titanic gig. I had no excuse!) It is there that I finally meet mister Black Flamingo himself. But that story is for part two. Yup, just decided The Black Flamingo gets TWO parts in a series about a band and their opener. It is just that great a place. And I promise it is connected. I believe wholeheartedly that James, Fritz and the Reverend will understand why I have to write this all down before I can get to their bit.
Let’s just conclude I have found my new happy spot and my newest favourite venue of all time. It’s not open to the public (yet), but I’m sure if you ask nicely, someone could let you know how to find that beautiful yellow sand road, that leads to a place of happiness, good people and fucking great music.
And I’m pretty sure that one day a band like Nirvana will only have played at The Black Flamingo before hitting it big. And then everyone is going to claim they were at that show that had only twenty to fifty people in the audience. And I will know which people were actually there. Because the people around The Black Flamingo have a different shade of Purple. It nears black, but holds all of the pinks inside!
I leave you with The Rabids with Clarity at The Black Flamingo. For your viewing and listening pleasure, while you wait anxiously for part two in the series. More ode to The Black Flamingo and its people incoming!
So, I have been hinting at this so-called review in a fewpostsnow. I labelled it a concert review, but it has turned into so much more than that. It’s an ode to music, punk spirit, Purple People and community. My notes started off in Dutch, but then quickly veered into English because of all of the people who touched the experience. (Iโm sorry if this is confusing, but this is just how my mind works.)
Plus there’s another part to Gogol Bordello that isn’t even about the music or the people but is highly relevant in the world right now. By this I mean their activism and support for Ukraine. (I will definitely touch on that , but will have to expand on that subject in yet another post because there is just SO much to tell).So in saying all this, English makes my little voice louder, and that can amplify their message too. So there. Another three parter. Plus a Fourth. Which will really be the Fifth. (Hey, did I just declare a triology in five parts. Speaking of kindred spirits, I mean!)
It was done. Gogol Bordello has left the stage. I am left behind very fulfilled, wandering around smiling a bit, before checking out my coat and finding the merch stand. I had already decided on the t-shirt I was going to get while waiting before the show. (Sadly I have yet to wear ANY of my merch since June was so FUCKING HOT. But itโs fine, new threads for Autumn, when my body can handle sleeves again!)
I quickly tell my preference to the lovely lady behind the stand and note Eugene walking back there. Sadly he is on his way backstage again, probably completely knackered after such an energetic show. No matter, I had been lucky enough as it was in the last week and months, I wasnโt planning on making band friends that night. I also add one of their lovely (and super practical) totes to my purchase, after seeing the proceeds go to support Ukraine.ย
Sergey Ryabtsev and Julie
I turn around and who do I bump into but Sergey Ryabtsev aka mister electric violin himself! I manage to get him to sign my bag in pink sharpie, (Yes, I might never use this beautiful, practical bag again for irrational fear of it washing off. I will still very much enjoy and cherish it.) and have a quick picture taken. After ‘smoothly’ blurting out how much I loved the show and his playing in particular, I leave him to enjoy his after-show breather.ย
On my way out the door, I suddenly decide to turn back. During the show, the opener Puzzled Panther came on stage for one of the songs, and it just registered in my brain that they were the lovely ladies behind the merch. I venture over there and swiftly bond with Victoria Espinoza and Kay Buontempo who hail from NYC and have just been picked up by Gogol Bordelloโs label.
Improvised photoshoot with Kay and Victoria of Puzzled Panther and Julie
I tell them how sorry I am to have missed two seemingly bad ass women on stage and promise to listen to their music. As is usual with Purple People, they arenโt mad I missed their show, but really enthusiastic to tell me all about it. At this point, there havenโt yet been any releases, (that I am aware of, correct me if I am wrong in the comments!) but I am anxiously waiting to tell you about it when they do release something!ย
What I did find was this lovely excerpt from a live show they did with two of their songs. I’ve also seen bits and pieces on the Puzzled Panther Instagram as well, so give them a follow and wait with me to add them to all the playlists!
Dumb European as I am, I comment to Kay: ‘Oh, you’re from NYC, like all cool merch people I meet. Do you know Joey Steel and Van Tastik?’ Of course she doesn’t, because one isnโt even from NYC (Van Tastik, he lived in the NY area but has since moved all over and now lives in the Netherlands) and NYC itself has a population nearly the size of Belgium, but I just get so excited.
Like I didnโt already think there had been too many weird coincidences that week, Kay drops the bomb on me when subsequently asking me if I normally speak French because I have a French accent in my English. The same question one of those broad NY area merch people, Fallen Reverend Van Tastik, had asked me not two days earlier. Feeling like this is synchronicity nudging me along, I end up buying a Puzzled Panther shirt as well. I thank these amazing Purple People, tell them I will write about their music and almost hop skip out of de Roma, drunk on music and life yet again. It is right then and there that the idea to Polexia Miller is born. I will write my own Almost Famous story. Letโs see how this ends! But first, read on about how it starts!
At this point, I am floating on clouds through the streets of Antwerp, back to the car that had eventually been parked about a half an hour walk out. It is a nice night and as soon as we leave the Turnhoutsebaan, it gets pretty quiet and we donโt see any passersby. A few silent streets into our journey I hear some English from a street corner and turn my head. I turn back. I do a double take. This CANNOT be. It is the three Brits I lost between the encores. This is Polexiaโs time to shine!ย
Letโs finish what we barely started here. I begin an on the road type interview and try to take as many notes as I can. (I fail miserably to write anything down coherently, but I still got the gist of it all. Note to self, use recorder.) I ask them if itโs their first time in Belgium, which as it turns out, it is. Not only that, but they hadnโt really thought about a visit and had just followed Gogol Bordello because they rocked their socks off. They saw them a week earlier at Slam Dunk Festival in Leeds(For all that is holy, look at that line-up. I need to incorporate festival vacations!)
They came back from the festival, went on a leisurely trip to their friends in Normandy to eventually end up in Belgium for the show. It had been a good but also very rough week on them since they told me they had been drinking since the previous Wednesday. (The night this takes place is Friday in case anyone wants to do the math.) Though the conversation and information is a scattered chaos at best, I must say they hold their drink well. (I would have toppled over somewhere on the first Thursday probably.) And I thrive on chaos, so this is my โnormalโ and I am enjoying every minute of our half hour walk. Because yes, they need to be in almost the same place as we do, because the universe has made it so.
As a beer loving Belgian, I canโt help but ask how theyโre liking our beers since their version of Stella is watered down. The poetic words โI wouldn’t poke Stella with the dick of an enemyโ were followed by the second ode to Pimmโs I had heard in ever. (Apparently it is like the nectar of the gods. So much so that when The Rabids played the coronation party at the British store Stonemanor, they ran out and there was a public outcry. Which was then followed by the first ode to Pimmโs by an amazing British woman I still need to tell you about. Anyway.)
A great tit sits at the top of a pine tree – Lasse Nystedt
A lot of other amusing profanities are thrown around that I won’t repeat here, because some things are better off the record. Speaking of record. That part I forgot, to take an actual picture of the guys. At some point I had tried to shoot a video of their rendition of ‘Start wearing orange’. (My incapacity to do three things as well made me fail this miserably.) Well, Ian and Tobyโs rendition. Tim mentioned that they had been changing the word Purple for whatever they could find the whole trip and it had been bugging him to bits.
Then, out of nowhere they give up on the Gogol and go straight for MMMbop. (Read here why that song/band is so important to me.) In my confusion (also, I was trying to cross a street and not get run over) I missed filming it. Lucky for me they pretend-believed me when I said my camera was off. If only for 15 glorious seconds.
Tim, Ian, Toby (and also deceased asshole cat Ralph), it was a pleasure meeting you and I hope to see you on my musical travels again! Have fun going viral, maybe!
Looks like we made it to the end! There will still be a part four, about the Gogol Activism, but I have another live music story to tell that needs to come first. I am not yet sure how many parts it will contain, but it is also FILLED TO THE BRIM with the Purpleest of Purple People.
GOGOL BORDELLO – Saturday June 3rd 2023, De Roma Antwerpen
So, I have been hinting at this so-called review in a fewpostsnow. I labelled it a concert review, but it has turned into so much more than that. It’s an ode to music, punk spirit, Purple People and community. My notes started off in Dutch, but then quickly veered into English because of all of the people who touched the experience. (Iโm sorry if this is confusing, but this is just how my mind works.)
Plus there’s another part to Gogol Bordello that isn’t even about the music or the people but is highly relevant in the world right now. By this I mean their activism and support for Ukraine. (I will definitely touch on that , but will have to expand on that subject in yet another post because there is just SO much to tell).So in saying all this, English makes my little voice louder, and that can amplify their message too. So there. Another three parter. Plus a Fourth. Which will really be the Fifth. (Hey, did I just declare a triology in five parts. Speaking of kindred spirits, I mean!)
I had made it in time. The show was about to start. To contain myself, I start typing basic notes. As usually happens when seeing bands, I discover they made new music since I got to know them. (I am very lax in following up on things that are not hyperfixations. That does not mean I love something less, it just means it hasn’t seared itself into my brain yet for some reason.)
Always good to see new music! Solidaritine is the full studio album from 2022. Even better to see is that, in true punk spirit, it is not just a collection of nice sounding notes and chords to dance to. It is a rebellion to the Russo-Ukraine War, taken on tour even as far as the actual frontline. (That’s that WHOLE other blogpost I was talking about. I am not going to go in it, because by now you must be sick of me bait-and-switching you. Just be aware at this point, new music exists. I feel I have to mention this fact on my honour as a journalist, because I will not be able to be neutral when I go on.)
I quickly rush over to the bar to get hydrated before dancing my ass off, but to no avail. The line is too slow and the first tones of Gogol Bordello are sounding out. Oh well, I follow the music, skipping into the beautiful hall that is de Roma and I am instantly smiling.
The energy is purple today. Gogol Bordello radiates something unique from off of that stage. A vibrant life energy, as strong as the sun. You are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Rhythmically moving your body to the tones, as if controlled like a puppet on a string. It takes you over. Their unique sound, their full-on enthusiasm, mixed in with what looks like absolute chaos. That’s the way I like my music! It is exhilarating. It breathes life into a whole room full of people who are transfixed in happiness. It is a sight for sore eyes.
Gogol Bordello @ De Roma | Photo : Mathias Verschueren โ June 3rd 2023
It’s just an instant party from note one, is what I am saying. We are all the Purple People here and you can’t help but feel a part of something bigger. Unlike most Belgian crowds, this one dances and screams with joy. It’s all that purple, it bleeds out.
Meanwhile, the interval workout my Fitbit is telling me I am in, is wearing me out. These guys play no slow songs, I really have to work on my cardio for next time. But itโs all good, I have some notes to take to try and explain what is going on and why I am so ecstatic here.
A lot of my notes are about beautiful instruments again. Firstly I notice the gorgeous seafoam green archtop (not resonator) guitar that singer Eugene is handling. Then I go on to mention the electrical violin with a resolute โfuck yeahโ behind it. I am impressed by a solo the violinist Sergey was playing which I wrote down was a painful song that reminded me of El Tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge. (A huge plus in my book, I cannot tell you how much I love that movie and that soundtrack.)
I also get pretty excited about the โfucking accordeon lady, yeahโ further on in my notes. I also note she strapped a giant drum to herself and banged her heart out. Unfortunately, I was too far off to see who I was mentioning and my pictures are not helping. I also wrote ‘see X rocking the Banjo‘ but also have no photographic proof of banjos on stage to reference the great X. I am sorry for not being able to name these, clearly amazing, musicians. YOU ROCK so much I have no way of finding out who to shout this at!
Gogol Bordello @ De Roma | Photo : Mathias Verschueren โ June 3rd 2023
Thereโs nine people on the stage dancing around the fire. The lung capacity of Eugene is impressive, how he can sing, jump and bellow out the words is an impressive feat to witness. This band has the same breaking-down-the-house energy as SONS did in this very same room. No wonder I had to be reminded of them pre-show. When the band is just as drenched in sweat as their audience you know itโs a good show. Insert teaser pic from the last post:
During-show-selfie up the top of the stairs at de Roma. Sweating and smiling. (THE sign of good music!)
The best mosh pit breaks out, people are surfing across the heads like thereโs no tomorrow, so I run upstairs to the balcony to get a better look. I stop to take above selfie of my happy face and head in. What an amazing aerial view of the party of bobbing heads and bodies below! I sit myself down, (mostly because a nice man asked me to get out of the aisle, but happy to grant my body a little much needed rest.) and enjoy a few more songs like this. Excuse this crappy video quality below, but it serves to just to give you an idea of the mayhem and beauty of it all.
Then I hear it. I get up and thrust my Roma Feestbier in the hands of my compatriot. (Literal HOLD MY BEER moment.) I run up the aisle and see a like minded spirit doing the same. I call her out: โwe have the same idea, youโre doing exactly the same thingโ. We smile broadly, both rush downstairs and start dancing to ‘Start wearing Purple’. I dance so fast as to blur the reds and blues of my dress into pure purple. I lose her in the crowd. Besties for life, still, nameless person. โค
There’s a little lull in the music. Is it over? A break? Someone saw that I was unsuccessfully trying to Soundhound a song, and comes over to help me out. (Somewhere in the dancing confusion, I lost track of where I was in my notes, so I had to go full on investigative journalist on myself to find out what song I was even referencing. Turns out it was the song I compared to El Tango de Roxanne earlier and is an Angelic Upstarts cover called Solidarity.)
Alright, thanks again Joris from Ruddervoorde for helping me out. I asked him if he’d ever seen a Belgian audience go wild like that and if he had danced himself. And he agreed he hadn’t yet seen that level of enthusiasm and he’d danced himself. He is a big fan and his last time at de Roma had also been for Gogol Bordello. The encore starts up and we lose eachother in the sea of happy, sweaty people.
More hopping around ensues and I keep stepping on my dress that is really too long for this. Itโs all good and well. (I notice my preferred personal space circle gets a lot smaller in a happy dancing crowd, oddly enough. I donโt even mind the people bumping into me or getting drinks poured over me (usually). Itโs just what happens when weโre having fun.) Gogol Bordello keep on playing encore after encore. This band is indestructible!
So many encores already, that in another lull between encores I think they canโt possibly play anymore, so I strike up another conversation with some people near me. Turns out they canโt help me with my โenthusiastic dancing Belgiansโ question since theyโre British. They do confide in me that they were dancing like crazy because of the band and the beer.
I almost follow them out for their smoko, but decide against it when I hear some more music blasting off the stage. No way I am missing even a second of this party. Bye unknown strangers, no way Iโll ever find you in the crowd after the show to finish this story. (Spoiler for part three: I DO find them, in the most unlikely of places and they serenade me with MMMbop. Proof incoming.)
In short. Gogol Bordello is life. The music and the musicians are amazing and wild. The crowd is a joy to be a part of. Itโs not just a show. You make friends here. Itโs a place to just enjoy life. Itโs a world of its own. Full of purple people. Full of hope.
The end of part two. Part Three will contain all after show events. Which includes:
The lovely ladies of Puzzled Panther, the opener I sadly missed!
A meet and greet with violinist Sergey.
A chance encounter with three Brits, long thought lost.
Huge thanks (again) to de Roma for the beautiful professional shots I get to use. Featured image in this post also by Mathias, as shown in part one-ish.
Huisfotograaf Mathias Verschueren en Jef: <3!
GOGOL BORDELLO – Saturday June 3rd 2023, De Roma Antwerpen
So, I have been hinting at this so-called review in a fewpostsnow. I labelled it a concert review, but it has turned into so much more than that. It’s an ode to music, punk spirit, purple people and community. My notes started off in Dutch, but then quickly veered into English because of all of the people who touched the experience. (Iโm sorry if this is confusing, but this is just how my mind works.)
Plus there’s another part to Gogol Bordello that isn’t even about the music or the people but is highly relevant in the world right now. By this I mean their activism and support for Ukraine. (I will definitely touch on that , but will probably have to expand on that subject in yet another post because there is just SO much to tell).So in saying all this, English makes my little voice louder, and that can amplify their message too. So there. Another three parter. Plus a Fourth. Which will really be the Fifth. (Hey, did I just declare a triology in five parts. Speaking of kindred spirits, I mean!)
Yes, this song again. I know they have others. Bear with me.
Weโll start at the beginning and that is long before the concert even started. Actually, The Devil Makes Three were probably not even back on their tour bus yet, after an exhilarating performance at De Casino. Was walking to the car, drunk on music and experiences, as usual after a show. I was so happy about my night with the Three and SO looking forward to the show I will eventually start to describe. (I promise.) Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw this beautiful human walking ahead of us.
The Purple People energy is high in this picture!
I caught up with him and possibly yelled at him: ‘DO YOU KNOW GOGOL BORDELLO!’ (Yes, it was a question, but not framed as one.)
He didn’t seem frightened or taken aback by this sudden attack on his way to the station.
No, he in fact did not know what a Gogol Bordello was. He in fact had known what a Devil Makes Three was for THREE YEARS before seeing them that night.
It was his mom who recommended he see this show. HIS FIRST EVER MUSIC SHOW YโALL. Because of all the bullshit that caused the lockdowns and the annus horribilis 2020 that set everything in motion. The year I had to put reviewing on hold, even though I had only started a few months earlier. The day I thought of my first Polexia Miller post. Two days before the birth of the actual idea behind it. That day was the day he saw the show of the band he had loved deeply for years. I can SO relate to that.
In my adrenaline filled excitement I either forgot to ask for his real name, or forgot to remember it. (BUT my brain DID have the forethought to ask for his Insta so I just sent him a frantic message. Second time I had to do this in a week. No wait, third! Anyway, it’s Noah, HI NOAH! ) Itโs all good, who needs real names when weโre already 100% on the same-energy level and already planning drinks?
Now. We’ve finally arrived. The wait is finally over. It is Saturday. It is time to mix among the Purple People. I am BURSTING to the core. So much so that I have to throw myself out of the car about a 10 minute walk from de Roma in Antwerp, because we HAD BEEN LOOKING FOR PARKING FOR 45 MINUTES. We had already missed the opener, I was starting to get really anxious, so I gave myself a breather. Shit. My partner in crime, still driving the car hopelessly around, had the tickets. SO CLOSE. Okay, donโt panic. He sent them. NO, itโs SONS! (Though I wouldnโt mind going back, I am just here for a different sort of mayhem today.)
After another frantic, and probably not so nice (sorry, I was really overwhelmed) call, I get the right tickets. I walk in awkwardly and finally find a place to sit (also awkwardly). But who do I spot with my kaleidoscopic eye, but yet another kindred spirit!
Julie + her spirit person and outfit inspirator: Regula ‘Queen of Baking’ Ysewijn.
Of COURSE she is a Purple Person. A true free spirit, who brings colour and beauty into this world. I am by no means a Master Baker, but I am in absolute love with both the UK & Flemish version of The Bake Off. (It used to have Sandi Toksvig before she grew tired of merengues.Now she’s on one of my other favourites QI. But I digress)
So seeing the Queen of Baking (and fashion) there, after my mini freak out, (you probably can’t tell, but I had been crying just seconds before.) felt like the best possible omen. (Spoiler – because this is getting long- IT WAS!)
Gogol Bordello @ De Roma | Photo : Mathias Verschueren โ June 3rd 2023
We made it. Part two will ACTUALLY contain a written record of the ACTUAL performance. Pinky promise. (I think you may have just witnessed the birth of a new hyperfixation.) Spoiler?
During show selfie up the top of the stairs at de Roma. Sweating and smiling. (THE sign of good music!)
The end. For NOW!
Huge thanks to de Roma for the beautiful professional shots I get to use. Huisfotograaf Mathias Verschueren en Jef: <3!
GOGOL BORDELLO – Saturday June 3rd 2023, De Roma Antwerpen
In oktober van 2021 besliste ik dat ik eindelijk de tattoo zou laten zetten waar ik al enkele jaren op aan het broeden was. Iets van een innerlijk kind op een schommel en de grote boze wereld daarrond. Mijn idee was vaag maar de fotografische imprint in mijn brein heel gedefinieerd.
In verschillende berichten en telefoontjes probeerde ik aan mijn uitverkoren artieste uit te leggen wat ik net bedoelde. Het eerste idee dat Sarah me doorstuurde was fantastisch mooi, maar helaas niet mijn tattoo. No problem, back to the drawing board. Het lukte mij even niet om het idee beter verwoord te krijgen, en Sarah had het ook even veel te druk, dus ontstaat er een tijdelijke radiostilte.
Ergens zomer 2022 beslis ik dan toch nog maar eens een poging te wagen, Sarah nodigt me uit in de shop. Beste idee ooit. Sarah is sowieso ook een van de Purple People. We vuren ideeรซn op elkaar af, terwijl zij het in Procreate tot iets concreets begint te vormen en tegelijk driftig notities neemt. Ik raak nog geรฏnspireerd door een van haar ontwerpen dat ik vanuit mijn ooghoek opmerk, en de rest is history.
We beginnen met het babyvogeltje uit haar eerste ontwerp, met een boekje in de schoot. (Eentje van Sir Terry Pratchett, moest u het zich afvragen.) Die mag al gaan chillen op zijn schommeltje. Vogeltje, want ja, kleine hyperfixatie op vogels specifiek en dieren algemeen. Oh, en kan er nog een koptelefoontje bij? Muziek, u weet wel.
De schommel hangt dan weer vast aan een (gespiegeld) dopamine symbool, omdat dat een belangrijk factor is voor mezelf, om in the moment op mijn schommeltje te geraken. Het boek, de headphones en de schommel zelf als herinnering aan wat me dopamine geeft. Woorden, noten en verbondenheid met mijn innerlijke kind.
Het oog binnen de dopamine is gebaseerd op het ontwerp aan de muur. Het staat symbool voor de kaleidoscopische blik die ik op de wereld heb. Opnieuw, een herinnering voor als ik vergeet van รฉcht te kijken naar de kleine, mooie dingen.
Het schaduwkonijn dat errond zit is volledig Sarah haar geweldige ingeving. Een perfecte, maar toch niet te angstaanjagende afbeelding van de grote boze wereld rondom mij. Want als ik op alle andere elementen let, is de wereld ook draaglijk en niet echt ZO boos.
Innerlijke kind, check!
Grote ‘boze’ wereld, check!
Permanent visuele herinnering aan wat u energie brengt en beschermt tegen die ‘boze’ wereld, check!
Het wordt september en we beginnen eraan. Ik ben GEK van het ontwerp. Maar dan wordt het winter, in mijn hoofd en daarbuiten. Ik voelde me op een bepaald moment zo slecht, dat ik mezelf aanpraatte dat deze tattoo een foute impulsbeslissing was, waar ik nog spijt van zou krijgen.
Dat maakt het des te mooier hoe ik vanaf het begin van korte-mouwen-seizoen 2023, opnieuw met veel liefde naar mijn arm begon te kijken. En vanaf vandaag ligt daar dus nog een extra laagje liefde over.
Ik lig hier in de tuin een eenzame vaderdag te vieren met alleen muziek als gezelschap. (En dat is OK, het voelt niet alleen.) Maar door hier zo te te liggen soezen in de zon, met muziek in mij oren beginnen mijn gedachten te verdwalen in patronen.
lk besef net hoe super profetisch deze tattoo is voor de mentaliteitswijziging die ik in de laatste 2 weken aan het doormaken ben. En voor de relatie als dochter van mijn vader. Als in, toen ik ze liet zetten was ze hyperrelevant en sprekend, en nu heeft ze nog twee extra betekenislagen gekregen die ze nog ZO veel belangrijker voor me maakt.
De timing rond deze tattoo en keuze voor deze artieste is al om verschillende redenen zeer synchronistisch gebleken. Deel van dat verhaal is niet van mij alleen, en ga ik hier niet uit de doeken doen. Je zal me moeten geloven op mijn woord.
Als ik mensen die een tattoo overwegen iets kan aanraden: de juiste artiest is veel belangrijker dan het juiste idee. En laat het rusten als het nog niet is wat je zoekt. Je zal hooguit een ontwerp moeten betalen waar je later misschien nog iets mee kan op een of andere manier.
*Een bedrag dat mee in de prijs van mijn uiteindelijke gezette tattoo opnieuw werd verrekend. Voordeel als je bij dezelfde artiest blijft. Maar nooit een verplichting. Wel om hen te betalen, want ook het uitwerken van een tattoo is voor hen werk. Vaak veel meer dan een leek kan vermoeden.
Voor mij was de juiste artiest in dit geval Sarah Boo Punkelmees. (De naam alleen al, komaan!) Het was misschien een zware bevalling maar ik denk dat we alle twee uiteindelijk uitermate enthousiast zijn over het eindresultaat. (En ik althans ook over het proces.)
Los van een super getalenteerd tekenaar en tattoo artist is ze trouwens ook een pracht van een mens, en een extra inspiratie om te leven zoals mijn tattoo het me aangeeft. Met een open blik op alles wat belangrijk is. โค
Volg Sarah Boo Punkelmees en de shop The Lost Oasis waar ze werkt. Het loopt daar vol van Purple People volgens mij, met elk hun eigenwijze stijl en aanpak! ALLEN DAARHEEN! (En zeg dat ik u gestuurd heb!)
Ik had kunnen zoeken dewelke ik het leukste vond, maar dan had ik volgende week nog niet op publish geklikt, dus hierbij haar laatste post! (Die ik voor de duidelijkheid dus ook absoluut bangelijk vind he!)
About keeping in touch with your inner child (and following all your old dreams.)
Okay, you might view *ALL OF THIS* (gestures wildly to this blog) by now as a dramatic midlife crisis. I call it keeping it touch with your inner child, because they knew what was up. (Maybe not necessarily about everything, but about the most important things.)
Anway, I was recently advised, (among many other things, but this one was the one I struggled with.) to use prayer as a means of getting through bad thoughts or moments. Not in a God shall smite Thee way, but more like any form of higher power you believe in. And I don’t really believe in a deity or other higher power. I mean, I love and worship Mother Nature daily, but I wouldn’t ask her for help with my issues. (She has too much work already, saving the bees.)
But the answer was so clear to me and has been staring me in the face with every blog & social post Iโve written in the past couple of weeks. I believe in the concept of synchronicity. I was pretty sure I wrote about it on my old blog, which Iโm slowly trying to rehaul over to the current iteration. I was looking for that post and came across this one from 2010.
Written on the THIRD of June in 2010. The last few weeks and months have revolved around the number three in way or another. Just check this series called Pete, Me, And The Devil Makes THREE for instance. (A tour in THREE parts, full of THREES.) In the last crazy week of performances, Gogol Bordello finished the bill at De Roma onโฆ You guessed it, the motherfucking THIRD of June of 202THREE, 1THREE years after writing that blog. (I know, I know, I should get to writing that Gogol Bordello love letter, but I am BOMBARDED BY SYNCHRONICITIES in THREES, so give me a second to catch my breath. – Also, I am writing this bit from the future where the review of the actual performance of the band is done: read it here!)
What does Gogol Bordello then have to do with anything I hear you wondering? (Aside from me accidentally finding this above song while simply looking for a gif and wondering how this would sound in a Gogol-Flavour.) The world needs this Eugene, the universe is telling me to tell you!). Well, they’re the Purple People. (I’ll explain later) What I mean is that I found community and meaning in music last week, in so much more ways than one. Walking out of de Roma that THIRD of June, I made a decision.
I am going to stop trying to see which parts that could fit me, and focus again on the parts that have always fit. Writing. Music. Yes!
After which I, by the way, totally accidentally located the THREE Brits I was trying to interview between the two encores. (That’s a show in THREE parts, in case you were counting.) I had lost all hope of finishing that bit of the story by then. They were the only people we crossed on a half hour trek to the car. They sang me MMMbop which was synchronicitous in and of itself. My sis and I went to see Hanson together a few times now. They’re amazing musicians. Also, did you know they are a TRIO and the last show we saw was their 30TH Anniversary tour? Just saying.
The first one we were going to see, I missed because Amanda was in town and my sister understands my hyperfixated brain a little. But then Taylor and Amanda were playing not just on the same night but also the same venue. And when I saw them kick a ball backstage at Trix, my brain almost exploded. That performance you ask? The 3x3RD of the 2X6TH month of 2017 if you were wondering. But that weird and random link just settles it for me.
This as a complete aside just to mention all the THREES, but the rest of the Gogol Bordello Brits and their lovely rendition of MMMbop will grace this blog soon.
But, asides aside. The thing is, just yesterday I used that very same video (from the Prime Zomer van de Kijker campaign in 2010, not 2008 as I believed.) to cast my newest alter ego, Polexia Miller to this website, who is entirely based on THE MOVIE I AM PROMOTING IN THE CLIP.
Yes, I am yelling. (Sorry, I get excited.) Yes, this all might not mean anything. It probably doesnโt, and Iโm realistic enough to know that full well. Theyโre stupid coincidences. But I am choosing for them to mean something.
Just like the jackdaw (another hyperfixation) that ‘followed’ me on my way to a big day, was the one I saved last year, wishing me luck this time. (Like any and all jackdaws I’ve since encountered.)
Just like I am choosing to see any reference to Johnny Cash as some sign from my dad.
Just like I am choosing to believe this came on my path (both literally and figuratively) for a reason. To learn to accept the donut, but also to see and appreciate the donut-givers.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually actively chosen to believe in something. And now I wholeheartedly CHOOSE to believe. In something that brings me great comfort. That some people could even find odd and stupid. I choose it and I own it. And it is goddamn liberating.
And that is what being a Purple Person is all about to me. That’s what my newest original soundtrack song means to me. Choose Purple. Choose anarchy from your own thoughts.
So that’s what I am going to do. Be the best purple version of myself, doing the things I love best. And I can never really tell what language the thing is going to take. So I am going to keep switching I am sorry if that is confusing to any readers out there, but I hope you appreciate the liberty I can feel by not limiting my creative quirks. And I think that no limits is best with the Gonzo Journalism style I’ve apparently adapted.
(Disclaimer: all the purples you see on this blog have been a personification of my inner Purple Person. I only very recently became obsessed with this song. Another beautiful synchronicity.)
Er waren zo wat kriebels in de buik. En een lichte trilling in de benen. En het was vooral geen goed idee om mijn haar te kleuren vlak voor ik vertrok. En er was een klok die net iets te snel de minuten tikte en bijgevolg een gemiste trein. Er was mijn prachtige zomerkleedje, dat waaide in de zomerbries, onderweg naar de studio.
De mensen die me kennen, die weten dat ik cameraโs en fototoestellen ontwijk en dat ge me lichtjes kunt zien wegkruipen als ik mijn eigen opgenomen stemgeluid waarneem. Maar, er was een wedstrijd die me vroeg wat films te kiezen en voor te stellen voor zoโn camera en natuurlijk evengoed ook met geluid. Ik ben niet te stoppen ben als ik aan het ratelen en tateren ben over films en series, dus MOEST ik het gewoon doen. Ik daag mezelf af en toe eens graag uit om iets te doen waarbij ik me niet 100% op mijn gemak voel. Om iets te doen, dat het stemmetje in mij liever niet zou doen. Bijgevolg schreef ik me in en gaf mijn films op, en vandaag was dan de filmdag.
Ik werd ontvangen in een prachtig gebouw met fantastisch interieur. Industrieel aanvoelende ruimtes, afgewerkt met designmeubelen die ik maar wat graag allemaal in mijn sjakos had gestoken. Eerst werden er wat korte shots genomen op het dak, waarna ik de make-up in mocht. Ik zat me daar even wat sterallures aan te meten, waarna het tijd was voor de echte opname.
De film die ik uiteindelijk heb voorgesteld is Almost Famous. Een film die me nauw aan het hart ligt, want IK WIL WILLIAM ZIJN! (Dit even ter zijde,ย maar als ik een onbeperkte lijst had gekregen, denk ik dat ik Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind had gekozen. Daโs de film, die voor mij een wereld van film opengooide, mijn liefde is daar ontstaan.) Er werden een paar vragen gesteld waar ik zo beknopt mogelijk op probeerde te reageren. (Again, zij die mij kennen weten hoe moeilijk het concept โbeknoptโ voor mij is.) Daarna was het tijd voor wat zotte shots, waarover ik waarschijnlijk niet al te veel mag loslaten.
Nu, the point van dit verhaal, is dat ik eigenlijk, ergens, misschien toch wel zo een beetje het gevoel heb gekregen dat ik me niet hoef te beperken tot mijn lettertjes. Dat er mogelijk nog een andere weg is die ik kan inslaan. Dat ik dat toch wel graag deed en graag zou kunnen doen. En dat ik dat godverdomme blijkbaar nog niet eens zo slecht deed. Het smijt wat opties op de tafel, en dat, dat vind ik dik in orde. Dus binnenkort op Prime, ikke en Almost Famous! (En fantastisch.) En nog zoโn vier andere films, ziet dat ge het niet mist!
DownSideUp 