After a month long and frankly well deserved break for The Black Flamingo, I finally get to go back to my happy place! Not for just any gig, but for the one I have been looking forward to ALL DAMN YEAR. Itโs no surprise then I am in the best of spirits driving onto the yellow sand road with the windows down and Clyde and the Milltailers blasting from my speakers. Such a happy homecoming it is, with hugs all around and happy loving faces embracing me to the fullest.
Because I am already prepared to lose my shit after the show, I quickly round up the guys for a pre-show selfie to seal the deal for this here blog. I got there way too early in my giddy anticipation, but that just leaves more time to catch up with all my purple Flamingo people and my lovely little Caramel who Iโve sorely missed.
Part 2.1 | Lightnin’ Luke โก๏ธ
I see Luke set up on the brand new expanded stage and I plop myself down on the best seat in the house, right in front of the stage. From the first strum of the chord, Iโm already nearly in tears from how good it feels to be here, in this moment, and get to see this extraordinary talent behind that guitar for the second (but not last) time this week.
I am again amazed at that voice full of passion and that ear piercing beautiful guitar sound that fills this barn I so love. How lucky we are to be in this wondrous space and have those sounds flow through us.
Thereโs just so much soul and so much feeling radiating all through that performance. Itโs hitting me in ALL the feels and I am on cloud (ninety)nine enjoying every millisecond of all of this.The set is more intimate, with a few breathtaking ballads that leave me speechless. Those lyrics are so impossibly fragile and lived through. This is not just a man with a bewildering voice and talent for playing, but a storyteller who takes you into his worlds and shows you all around the life heโs lived.
Picture courtesy of the wonderful Tatjana Knoll
When Luke utters the words โWhat a magical place to be, with 2 rainbows outside and 15 rainbows withinโ, he is not kidding. Another synchronicitous link to 2023 when rainbows were part of the musical path I stumbled onto as well.
Meanwhile the love is shining off the stage and is mirrored right back at him. Another string canโt handle all the pressure and breaks at exactly the same song as it did in de Pallieter.
With Clydeโs resonator at hand, Luke tries to teach us all the basics of yodeling (jazz hands included) so we can be his back up band. He tells us how he found his way to write and perform his own music, with people left and right telling him he canโt do what heโs trying to accomplish. Luckily he didnโt listen to a word they said and just kept on keeping on so we can rejoice in all that encompasses this Lightninโ of an artist. I thought the gig at de Pallieter was the best thing I had seen all year, but this session even tops all that. (Though I have to admit my deep rooted love for this venue might make me just tad bit biased.)
Part 2.2 | Clyde and the Milltailers
After this performance, everyone needs a little time to process it all, but the guys donโt leave us much to recuperate. Who cares, because this combo is pure heaven and that fiddle is life and seeps into my soul. Again I note how they are so well tuned to each other and how effortlessly they seem to play together.
At this point my notes get completely illegible because I am writing without looking away from the stage. After those few unreadable words, I just stop writing anything down full stop. My brain is melting and I just cannot convey the way all of this is weaving its way into my core. The English language has such a broad vocabulary but I am sure there are not enough superlatives and expletives for what is unfolding in front of me.
From this point on, I will let the music speak for itself and just add in a the last of the many videos I made. They will speak in volumes as to why I am so astoundingly grateful for the life I am living at this moment in time. Decide for yourselves if I am overreacting or not.
Just one more restful night before I get to do this all over, this time at Louโs bar in Liege, another place Iโve been wanting to visit for ages. Living life in the fast lane is getting pretty exhausting, but oh so thrillingly rewarding. I can feel the energy soaring through my body and am making memories I wonโt forget in a hurry. See you for part three!
The Black Flamingo road leads me to discover some great musicians, but also guides me towards some wonderful champions of the music. Jo kept gushing about the Rua Room, the brain child of Irish born artist and music lover Daithi Rua. He’s a singer-songwriter who grew tired of life on the road and turned into a music promoter by way of his home studio and YouTube channel, that features the cream of the crop in singer-songwriters from Belgium and beyond.
Every Monday night he hosts The Singer-Songwriter Show, a YouTube live-stream that features some amazing artists. It shows their (often very creative) music videos, or the live-sessions he records in his own studio. He’s created a beautiful community of musicians and music lovers who tune in every week to discover the sounds of some promising new or established artists, and everything in between.
A snapshot of the interaction with the live chat.
The live chat feature is a great bonding tool for artists and fans alike. To me it’s pretty nostalgic, because it reminds me of the olden days of the Belgian music channels TMF and JimTV, that also featured a live chat while showing the music videos.
The two main differences being:
The music is way better at the Rua Room than what was represented on those channels at the start of the 2000’s.
The chats revolve all around the music and aren’t inundated with people looking for hook-ups. ๐
Since discovering the channel, there have been some nice exchanges between artists that played the Rua Room who ended up at The Black Flamingo (above) and vice versa (below)! I’m sure there’s many more to follow in the not too distant future.
Aside from the online presence of the Rua Room, there is an offline component in the showcases Daithi puts on regularly. Yesterday, Jo and me got to experience one of those, Daithi’s birthday edition no less! And let me tell you, what an amazing afternoon it turned out to be.
Sunday May 26th, time for another Flamingo roadtrip ! From Mechelen via Nijlen, (Less than 12 hours after driving home from the Black Flamingo following a beautiful performance by the lovely Jana Nys aka Jana Jane, as seen above, and the lively and incomparable 5dayBoon.) and all the way to Eeklo central, where the festivities were to take place.
Revel again in my fantastic ability of taking the fuzziest of selfies when excited about music!
Along the way and arriving there, we were delighted with some torrential downpours. Minutes after the music started however, the sun came back, lured in by the tunes radiating from the Pingouin cafรฉ. We got to meet the man of the hour for the first time, after getting to know him online. After a few moments of confusion as to ‘who the fuck these people were who gave him the gift’ and where Jo & Julie from the chat were, the penny dropped and a lively conversation ensued. Daithi has an incredible knack in finding the most amazing artists and gives them a three song set to woo their audience, with one performer ending the show with a six (or seven) song set.
We had the pleasure of discovering the live versions of Hondshaai, Bob Theil, Eves Garden, Allan Temple with the cherry on top of the (whipped cream) being Peter Arnout. Added benefit: the mandated and well respected silence while the artists did their thing! Amazing artists all (who deserve all the praise in their own right, but I have to stay on topic JUST A LITTLE), but Peter Arnout especially managed to sweep us completely off our feet. Jo and I sat entranced at the performance from our vantage point of the table right next to the stage.
Over the last year I followed the Red (Rua in Irish, fyi.) Thread of the music, which healed the burnout I had been going through and helped cure the grief in mourning the death of my father. Here I was again, transfixed on an artist he would have loved so much as well. I often call music my religion and in truth, this was the best religious experience one could ask for on a Sunday afternoon.
Picture shamelessly stolen from the Rua Room Facebook page, courtesy of Daithi himself.
Peter is a story weaver, a man made for, and made up of music. After the set we had a chance to talk to shower him with well deserved compliments. (And beg him to please grace The Black Flamingo, because that place is made to showcase artists like this incredibly purple man.)
He told us the story of how he acquired his great love, the beautiful guitar that he seemed to be one with. An origin story of pure synchronicity, fate and love at first sight. If I ever get the chance (and work up the courage and find the right questions to ask) to interview this man, I would JUMP at the opportunity. I am sure he’d tell musical and artistic stories that could fill a(n anthology of) book(s).
So in short, any music lover should already be subscribed to the Songs of the Rua Room channel at the very least, try to catch up on a live-stream soon and plan their calendar around some of the showcases yet to follow. I promise you will not be disappointed!
Pat Carter and Luis De Cicco (Rodeo FM) | Saturday, March 16th 2024 โ The Black Flamingo, Nijlen
This show had already been on my radar since around September โ23. I remember Jo being thrilled letting me know well in advance that half of Rodeo FM was booked to appear for a stripped down acoustic set at The Black Flamingo in March 2024. Knowing what an excited recommendation like this meant coming from him (and after a brief listen to not spoil too much for myself),I marked my calendar and passed through the ups and downs of another six months, which in hindsight flew by.ย
The fateful Saturday of the performance I was more than chuffed to be on the way to see Pat Carter and Luis De Cicco, half of the Berlin based Band Rodeo FM. I arrive in my home away from home, and almost immediately Pat Carter himself walks up to me asking me if Iโm the author of DownSideUp. Why yes sir I am! An engaging conversation ensues ranging from musical history to commiserations about working in Communications and Marketing; from Kris Kristofferson to media planning. The tone is already set for an up close and personal musical surprise that is about to unfold before my eyes and ears.ย
Lights out, backdrop blinking merrily away behind them and itโs all aboard for Pat & Luis to take us on a journey through stories, time and genres. Itโs difficult to label them under any genre but letโs call it a beautiful blend of bluesy, folky, rocking country influences, mixed in with a lot of anarchist punk spirit.
Rodeo FM has been called a politically left wing country band and Pat Carter remarks that a lot of the songs in the set donโt necessarily emphasise that. The title song to the newest album that came out a year ago (to the day I am writing this all down, as synchronicity would have it) however says it in just three simple words: โRight Wing Planetโ. Hereโs a full band version of that particular song, which suggests a different vibe to the intimate acoustic performance we were served at The Black Flamingo, but should give an idea of that punk mindset I was talking about.ย
What isnโt difficult to define, is that the first song in the set immediately travels through my senses straight into my heart. These two are part of that rare variety of artists that unfalteringly, yet effortlessly weave visual tales with mere words and notes.ย
Pat plays his acoustic guitar and sings spiritedly in a voice that puts me in mind of that other troubadour, Gipsy Rufina. A powerful yet delicate tone that fits well within this cosy blanket of sound.
Luis lets his fingers follow the notes across the neck of that gorgeous resonator guitar, eyes closed and seemingly one with the music. Iโm reminded of one of my favourite Pixar movies of all time, Soul (Iโm sorry guys, conformist commercialism incoming, but hear me out:), where musicians let the music flow through them when they get into the rapturous trancelike state of โthe Zoneโ.ย
The beautiful instrument had caught my eye as soon as I walked into The Black Flamingo to which I noted โThat is one sexy looking guitar!โ Somewhere further on in my notes I expand that sentiment to the sound of it; โThat steel guitar is singing its own songโ.
After the show I talk to Luis, fangirling over it (Like I tend to do when I fall in love with the gear). I find out that after admiring the Paul Beard signature resonator some time prior, he fortuitously bought it for a fraction of what it was worth off of a musician who couldnโt take it back with him. Of course a piece like this has its own story.
Back into the comforting arms of the music when I close my eyes myself and drift away, the words and notes flowing through the night. Earnestly I write down: โWhat is this! Love, love, love!โ Immediately I am immersed completely in that spellbinding voice and those strings strung with passion and perfection, and end up wholeheartedly content.
Near the end of the set The Black Flamingoโs most famous resident feline makes an appearance to cuddle and get a front row seat mere seconds after Pat sings โMirandaโ, a break-up song in which the aforementioned Miranda took the cat, which is in itself a reference to the lyrics of The Way it Goes by Gillian Welch.(Authorโs note: the following is not that song, just another great Rodeo FM tune, featuring Caramel getting comfortable.)
After their set, we get talking about instruments, musical influences and again much more. I amย already 100% sure that this is going to be the first 2024 Black Flamingo passing that will appear on this blog. Meanwhile it is after midnight on the 17th of March, exactly a week to the day since that fateful Pete Bernhard gig in 2023. Itโs only fitting I explain just how integral The Black Flamingo was to the reinvention of my special space on the web. The energy here tonight felt comparable to that night that marked my rediscovery of my love of music. A synchronicitous series of events to top off an enchanting night.
As a bonus, you have a fresh (and much more professional than my) recording to anticipate, because the duo passed by the recording studio of The Rua Room.ย
Shawn James | Tuesday, February 20th 2024, Live @ De Casino, Sint-Niklaas (Part 1 of 2)
It is well past midnight and I just got home. Adrenaline alone is going to fuel this story of yet another incredible evening in musicโs embrace. When you write down โHow can this year get any better than this?โ when itโs not even Spring yet, you know it was a fucking treat. (Especially knowing what I know of summer highlights yet to come! Clyde & The Milltailers, Bridge City Sinners, Whiskeydick & James Hunnicutt. Probably forgetting a bunch. But anyway, back to tonight!)
For synchronicityโs sake, I got invited to see Shawn James by two completely unrelated people at the same time, give or take a couple of minutes. Thereโs a whole other story I could tell about just how crazy coincidental it all is, and how it ties into all the synchronicity of threes in 2023, but it would take me too far off course. I NEED to tell you about what I got to experience tonight. Right now. This fucking instant.
Set the stage.
A piano. A long haired man in a hat. A voice that reaches inside and touches your soul from the first note on.
I rather enthusiastically go โWAAAHAAAHAAAHAAJAAAAโ into Joโs ear (Sorry not sorry). The room goes completely silent and a huge smile is plastered on my face. It hath begun. I have fallen in love. Instantly. Wholeheartedly. Closing my eyes and becoming one with the sweet sweet music.
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
After a breathtaking and intimate moment between a man and his piano, Shawn is joined on stage by a fiddler, drummer and bassist and trades in his keys for an acoustic guitar. It is on!
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Look at this AMAZING collection of sound. Arch top bass in front. โค
Julie & ‘amazing’ bassist Zackary Sawyer
Firstly, I have to tell you about the amazing (Ha, I said it again. I told him yesterday 20 times how amazingly amazing this amazing instrument was. Thereโs no better word for it though, he agreed.) arch top bass. What a beautiful instrument! Look at it SHINE:
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Shawn James @ De Casino| Foto: Sven Dullaert โ Feb 20th 2024
Aside from that, would you believe the crazy sounds coming from โRageโ Sageโs fiddling? The energy that man exudes is completely enchanting from the moments he gets on stage.
Julie, Sage & Ann (thanks for the invite, babe!)
In his own words: The most metal fiddle player you know. If 2023 was the year of the banjo, 2024 is sure to turn out to be the year of the fiddle! (Ainโt that right, mister Lighting Luke!)
Especially when the instrument is played with such melancholy and pure heart. In true Julie fashion, it makes several appearances in the notes:
Have I mentioned here how much I ADORE the violin?
Man oh man (or mannekes for the Flemish people) that VIOLIN!
THAT VIOLIN!
Instant goosebumps, that violin.
Fiddle Baby!
Guitar & Fiddle ๐
Go Violinist GOOOOOOOO!
Yes Shawn, you were singing? Love will find a way? Oh yeah baby, all the love from the audience is directed at the stage. I write down โFUCK FUCK FUCK, what a voice, what a band, what a sound.โ And weโre just about at song two. We still have an hour and a half of this rollercoaster of bewilderment ahead.
This voice, it is all around. I feel it in my bones. My gut. My heart. I am rejoicing in the vocals and bathing in the music.
There arenโt enough adjectives in the world to describe the range Shawn has, it is beyond incredible. From gut wrenching to near growling in an instant. This man and his band are unmissable, I would follow them to the ends of the world just to experience this again.
Ear shattering chills to the bone. I use the term goosebumps so much it almost starts to lose its power. Almost. This performance brings highlight after highlight. From acoustic to borderline metal as fuck, this band and this man with that astonishing voice can do it all to near perfection. Few words can describe this musical frenzy weโve found here in the city of Sint-Niklaas.
Some more nonsense that should tell you all about what it evoked (people familiar with my writing know this only comes out when I lose all other words for what is happening.):
Wahaaahooo!
Ohohohog
Hohohohoooo.
Whaaaatwhaaaatwhaaat.
Love! Love! Love!
If my smile could get any wider, I would become The Joker. Seriously, this show is nearly unrivalled and I have gotten to experience so much beauty in such a short time, that alone should tell you something. I havenโt often seen such a completely captivated audience, especially in larger venues.
And who should we run into after the show but beard men Rob & Juice who were at The Black Flamingo for Whiskeydick/James Hunnicutt where I also met Ann & David? YES!
De Casino, I love you! (And your Kerel Saison beer, YUM!) You bet it was a badass Tuesday, Shawn, the badassessed of the badass. We want more and we get more. Encore after encore after encore. We eat it up. The acoustic guitar has been switched for an electric and then another gorgeous arch top. Could this night get any better? Youโd think it couldnโt, but it incrementally got better, better and best.
PS: Honourable mention to the fantastic drummer from Dublin who more than kept up with the rhythmic variations in the set. Much love! PPS: Actual pictures taken by a serious photographer incoming, but I just could NOT wait to throw this online!
Anderhalve maand in het nieuwe jaar en toch alweer acht optredens achter de kiezen. (En nog veel meer op de planning.) Een dag eerder nog in The Black Flamingo voor Rabid Jack en Ellis Mane.(Hierover later meer, ooit ofzo.) Op een zalige zondag vliegen een Zwarte Flamingo en een Kraanvogel richting โt Stad.
Een kraanvogel, Flamingo & Berang de nog te besprekene artiest
Wie komen ze daar tegen? DE Berang, muzikant die twee weken voor De Maanstenen in de Flamingo speelde met Freddie Webber. (Jaja, ook dat komt ooit nog. OOIT!) Hij die gisteren ook meegenoot van Jack & Ellis in diezelfde Flamingo. (En medemuzikant is op de plaat van Ellis Mane die binnenkort van de persen rolt.) En die ook luistert als Jo zegt: KOMT DAT ZIEN. As everyone should, zoals we ondertussen weten.
Luna en De Maanstenen – Foto credit Briek VerdoodtLuna en De Maanstenen – Foto credit Briek VerdoodtLuna en De Maanstenen – Foto credit Briek Verdoodt
Maar liefst 28 weken na datum en nog geen woord gerept over het geweldige optreden uit juli. Schande! Dan mag het geheugen al eens worden opgefrist. Alsof dat nog nodig was eigenlijk, na hun passage in The Black Flamingo. Maar goed, elk excuus is goed voor een portie Luna en de Maanstenen.ย
Luna en De Maanstenen – Foto credit Briek Verdoodt
Verrassing, oh verrassing, Julie draait alweer op een slaaptekort van al enkele weken. Dat doseren heb ik dus nog altijd niet geleerd. Anderzijds weet ik dat ik er soms over moet gaan, om boenk op energiepeil 100 te belanden, dus ik neem het zekere voor het onzekere en sleep mij doorheen de dag en richting Nijlen, alwaar ik dankbaar kan meeliften met FlaminโJo.
Het zal u ook dubbel niet verbazen dat ik ondertussen ook weer het quota aan gsm-opslag had bereikt en dus eerst nog grondig plaats moet maken op mijn telefoon.
Eens aangekomen in het geweldige Caffee Cabron zijn we meteen gewonnen voor de fijne vintage look van bruin cafรฉ met sterke bierkaart, Tiffany lampjes tegen oude stenen muren en rode fluwelen gordijnen waarvoor de Maanstenen zullen schitteren.
Luna en De Maanstenen – Foto credit Briek Verdoodt
Luna treedt aan met een waanzinnig coole prinsessenjurk en gooit haar bas over de schouder. De Maanstenen beginnen met een knaller van een nieuw nummer, met een heerlijk hevige gitarist Jitse op zang. Het nieuwe nummer klinkt nog net iets ruiger dan we gewoon zijn en de toon is meteen gezet. Het kot moet hier kapot! Er volgen nog nieuwe nummers, waaronder eentje met kraaien en onderstaande over de betweterige luide man die zo nodig zijn mening moest delen met Luna.ย
Wat een feest! Zitten heb ik de laatste tijd al genoeg gedaan, dus vandaag haal ik mijn beste (HAHA) dansmoves nog eens van onder het stof. Dansen, zweten, zweten en dansen. En ook nog een beetje zweten. Het is daar hรฉรฉt in de Cabron, letterlijk zowel als figuurlijk. Net zoals in de Flamingo spelen ze overigens de akoestische & punkversie van mijn lijflied Gewoon Gewoon.
Gewoon, omdat ze dat kunnen. Opnieuw sta ik versteld van het ongelooflijke bereik van Lunaโs stem. Parker beukt lekker op zijn drum en ook Jitse ramt zijn er snaren bijna van af. Wat een afsluiter van een topweekend! Ondanks de korte nacht sta ik maandag op, bomvol nieuwe energie, en stuiter ik enthousiast de dag door. Muziek zal mij altijd blijven opladen.
Deel 1: Luna en De Maanstenen | The Black Flamingo, Nijlen – 29 juli 2023
Afgelopen zomer stond alles in het teken van de vogels. (Nu ook nog, maar toen nog net iets meer.) Ik begin mijn notities hier dan ook met de profetische zwaluw die langs rakelings langs de auto scheert bij het inrijden van de yellow sand road. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes knallen van I believe I can fly uit de speakers, terwijl ik de auto parkeer. 24 u geleden dans ik nog de ziel uit mijn lijf bij hun Belgische tegenhanger, The All Star Wedding Band. 48 uur geleden zwalpen mijn dansbenen nog vrolijk door de Mechelse Kruidtuin op de tonen van Funeral Dress en de punk dj die de avond daar afsloot.ย Het is weer synchroniciteit al wat de klok slaat.
Deze twee optredens liet me echter lichtjes (ZEER) uitgeput en met een resem spieren die prettig (PIJNLIJK) nazinderden. De week erna zou Brakrock de fantastische Joey Henri opvolgen dus moest ik een beetje doseren. (HAHA) Aldus beloofde ik plechtig van voor een keer niet gelijk een gek in het rond te dansen. Moeilijk, moeilijk, moeilijk. Gelukkig was er daar Jo die speciaal voor mij een relax had gereserveerd, meteen mijn ego รฉn rug in een keer gestreeld!ย
Snel wat ruimte maken op mijn gsm (afgeladen vol na een hele lente en halve zomer vol muzikaal hoogtepunt na muzikaal hoogtepunt), want ja ik weet nu al dat ik hierover ga schrijven. (Hoewel ik er totaal geen tijd voor heb en ik al hopeloos achter loop, getuige dezeย vertraging van 6.5 maanden.)
Luna noemde haar eigen verzonnen genre bubblegum punk (al zou kleinkunst-punk ook een treffende benaming zijn) en Jo had me al verteld dat de paarsheid er van af droop. Kan dat dan nog mislopen? Ik denk het niet. (Spoiler alert: it fucking didnโt.)
De energie die van Luna afstraalt en de smack talk die ze verkoopt tegen en over haar maanstenen is verfrissend. De basdrum zindert door de zetel en doet ZO deugd aan mijn pijnlijke rug.
De nummers knallen Nederlandstalig uit de boxen. De humor en zelfspot van de teksten doen me heel sterk denken aan Nele Needs a Holiday, which is always a great thing.
Wat een topstem heeft Luna trouwens, van lieflijk zacht naar lekker ruig zonder verpinken. En een out of this world outfit in haar paarse zijden jurkje met Duvelsokken piepend vanuit haar Doc Martins. Ahja, en de maanstenen Jitse en Parker waren ook wel tof. (Kidding gasten, jullie waren beestig goed!)
Eerlijk is eerlijk, Luna is wel mijn rolmodel. De band verpersoonlijkt overigens wat ik altijd al met mijn droomband zou willen doen. De attitude, de sound en verhalende teksten, YES, meer van dat. En dat zal ik krijgen, een dikke 6 maanden later! Wordt vervolgd.
Voor ik vertrek mag alter ego Polexia nog haar allereerste handtekening plaatsen op Will de metal krokodil. Bij mijn vertrek onder een prachtige sterrenhemel hoor ik vanaf de overkant van de polders Zap Mama zingen. A perfect end to a great night.
Authorโs note: Iโm mostly going to let the videos speak for themselves this time. (Mostly.) Enjoy.
Joey Henryโs Dirty Sunshine Club | Saturday, August 12th 2023 โ The Black Flamingo, Nijlen
Somewhere in the lush green fields of Nijlen lies the yellow sand road leading to The Black Flamingo. This ainโt Kansas anymore, but a welcome home away from home to puddle photographer & poet Joey Henry. Itโs been little over a week since he passed through Heist-op-den-Berg and Iโm frankly still reeling. I invited some more Purple people to enjoy the show with me and am greeted by Juice & Rob who got an honourable mention after the WhiskeyDick/Hunnicutt trifecta.
One stroke of the strings, I close my eyes and itโs just me and the music. The first notes hit home like nothing else. The approving murmurings reveal weโre in group therapy and there’s still people alongside me to take in the musical medicine. The notes draw the audience in like a virtuous vortex, (or shall I compare it to a Kansas hurricane) and the resulting hushed silence is a nice backdrop to the sound. I knew what to expect and the sound still baffles me.I open my eyes for a second to see some mouths dropping in awe around me.
Joey Henry has a voice like a cathedral and might not even need the microphone to emphasise his songs, judging by how far away he sings from the thing. His voice goes from the deepest bass up so many registers like itโs nothing. Heโs a story teller, in true Americana fashion, and every song could be its own little movie. The way he loses himself in his songs is mesmerising to watch. Closing his eyes and chasing the notes across the neck of the beautiful banjo that has seen some miles, judging from the patina on top. He plays that thing like itโs an electrical guitar, pounding the strings and bending to his amp to use the feedback as an additional layer to the music. At some point it sounds like thereโs a theremin mixed into it all.ย
After a pretty wrecking start of summer and first week of August, all my joints hurt to the high heavens.The sound and vibrations of the music are so soothing however that the musical medicine doesnโt just heal my soul but my body as well. Joey breaks out the guitar and asks if there are any requests. Thanks to Juice, Henry goes back to his banjo, rolls up his sleeves and tears into an immensely captivating rendition of Kites. Tears, I love youโs and hugs all around after the song ends. What an experience, being here on this glorious night and letting it all wash over me.
As if all that beauty hadnโt been enough, Joey invites local band Bracaโs Seppe and his accordion to the stage.
You might not believe me after seeing that video but they simply conferred two minutes about the chords and then this happened.
They lean into it and the voice and depth of these songs sear into the depths of the soul. Thereโs a whispered reverence as the set draws to a close with Everything kills us all on the ukulele.
As if all of these weren’t magical enough, after a well deserved break to catch our breaths, (Joey from singing his heart out, the audience from staring breathlessly at the stage.) us lucky few move to the fire pit in the back garden.
A halfmoon and clear and starry sky shines on the encores and an audience unabashedly relishing every last note that gets thrown our way. The fire crisping a happy crescendo to a night well spent.
The start of the new year, in the calm before the storm of a whole series of new events. Perfect time to reminisce about 2023 and catch up on some stories I kept up my sleeve. I wrote the following somewhere in September:
It starts off as another magical walk, reminiscing on the beautiful musical rainbows. I have yet to regale you with the tale of meeting the beautiful ultra-purple person that is Joey Henry, whom I met somewhere at the start of August. I havenโt had the time to find the right words to describe the two nights I spent with him and his music.
Letโs just say that aside from being an immensely talented musician, heโs also a phenomenal photographer. I snagged one of his prints, Kansas rainbow included, at the first of his shows I saw at Den Oude Ketel. (Yes, the very same spot where I saw that other impossible rainbow months earlier, after that magical James Hunnicutt set.)
Kansas Rainbow by Joey Henry
Today is the day I finally try and demystify the wonderful moments of musical medicine I got to experience at the start of August. It started out with a good bad decision on account of a bad case of FOMO. Joey Henryโs Dirty Sunshine Club was to hit the stage at The Black Flamingo on August 12th and Jo had hinted to me it was going to be legendary.
Joey Henry @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ August 3rd 2023
I took note and saw he was also going to play Den Oude Ketel in Heist-op-den-Berg as well and I was faced with a terrible conundrum. Was I going to keel over if I added another day of music to the Brakrock weekend that would follow? The answer turned out to be yes, in hindsight, but luckily I managed to stay on my feet until after every bit of music had transpired.ย
Joey Henryโs Dirty Sunshine Club | Thursday, August 3rd 2023 โ Den Oude Ketel, Heist Op Den Berg
So, following my FOMO, I ventured out but promised myself I was just going to enjoy the show and leave lovely Polexia at home. It was no use, the music hadnโt even started yet and she came out to play! Had a nice talk with Joey (quote: โJo and the Black Flamingo peeps are like family.โ), ‘WhiskeyDick drummer’ Raf and then spotted Bakkie Photography. I knew then I was going to write about it anyway, so I went ahead and asked for a pre-show selfie this time. (Thinking I wouldnโt be tempted to hang out too long after the show. WRONG.)
True to my brand, I start my notes with three mentions of my top favourite instrument of 2023, the banjo!
Banjoolooooo
Special banjo with distortionย
Remind me to ask him about the special banjo
Needless to say, I was already pretty excited and planted my ass smack dab in front of the stage. I managed to barely see any of the performance because I had my eyes closed from sheer delight, as can be observed in the following excerpt.ย (I also forgot to ask about the special banjo…)
Iโm afraid I also wasnโt very diligent in my note taking. Suffice it to say the man is a musical and visual poet! His photos are like still music videos for his tunes. It all blends beautifully together. His robust yet delicate voice is a delight on this warm summer night. When he starts up the gospel tune called โWe all fuck upโ, I wrote down I found my new theme song.ย
Joey Henry @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ August 3rd 2023
I smile a thank you to the people shushing some loud talkers, because how can you not shut the fuck up when these melodies float into the world. And believe me, I know how hard shutting the fuck up is. But no words from me at this point. Joey mentions heโs having too much fun on the banjo to switch to the guitar and really, I ainโt complaining here!ย
Joey Henry @ Den Oude Ketel | Photo : Bakkie Photography โ August 3rd 2023
He tells us to invite our ghosts here, before staring into the beautiful ballad I dream of horses, which leaves me crying for the second time centre stage at Den Oude Ketel. His lyrics are beautiful and speak to the imagination. I managed to write down a few snippets as I heard them.ย
Sleep baby, sleep, sing in the morning if that’s what you need from me.
Building a house for your heart and digging a basement in case you meet a human tornado.
She is like a seatbelt for my soul.
Very honourable mention to his amazing song about adventurous aviator Amelia Earhart.
Joey explains he is writing without worrying about genres, writing as a medicine for his people, to get the musical medicine back from his audience. He calls his shows group therapy and he is not wrong. I leave the show elated and so so happy I made the good bad decision of following the fear of missing out. I end my notes with another very excited โBanjooloooooโ and a happy feeling to have more Joey Henryโs Dirty Sunshine Club ahead of me that month.
Huge thanks to Bakkie for another series of wonderful pictures!ย
This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me. Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another. And thatโs how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember.ย
In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage. With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life. The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my self.ย
I’m writing this all down so I can finally learn to remember to never forget. Because it is so easily forgotten. I am posting this from a place where I am on the brink of having forgotten again. Where I can barely believe the words I have written here myself. Where all I want to do is shut out the world entirely. I am desperately retraining my mind to latch onto the positives as eagerly as it embraces the negatives. Searching for an upward spiral of sorts, away from the abyss. So here goes.
Around the time of Gipsy & Kielโs tour, there is a lot going on in my life all at the same time. Life usually is a bit messy at the best of times, but this period contains a combination of stressors which make it even more difficult. Part of that mess is the fact that it is September, and almost a year ago that I had lost my father to a devastating disease. Remembering the feelings from sitting by his sickbed, seeing him turn into a shadow of his former self is weighing me down. During the year I had found him looking on in the musical synchronicity, which had helped me tremendously in my grieving process.
I was starting to lose the connection. In the turmoil I found myself in, I started to roll back into old habits and feelings of hopelessness. I was still bathing in the music, revelling in its beauty. But I lost track of what had been the most important about it, what it actually signified. The hope of another life, another me who was strengthened and lifted up by the music as a sort of harness against the perils of the world. I still felt the beauty, but no longer the surge of strength it brought me. I could feel myself slipping away again in all the wrong coping strategies.
Iโd nearly hit bottom again. I was losing myself in grief, sadness and anger and could feel my sense of self become smaller again. After another awful day where the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness prevailed, everything inside me was screaming to stay in and shut myself away from the world. But I didnโt, I forced myself to go against that feeling and I went to The Black Flamingo instead. I let myself drift on the waves of music that Gipsy and Kiel brought with them. I got to feel that warm hug of those Purple people around me again. (And that one guy, but you know, sometimes it takes something appalling to let the good shine out even more. I was intently protected from his aura of awful by those around.)
It didnโt really sink in until the show on Monday though. Iโd felt my dad there again, in The Black Flamingo. In the music. I heard it again in de Floeren Aap. He would have absolutely loved Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove. While hanging out with Ann we were talking each others ears off about just about anything. And it hit me, these are the types of people I need in my life. Full of positive energy, dreams and crazy life plans. Full of an all consuming LOVE and ADORATION for things. Around people like this, I donโt have to put bits of myself away. I donโt have to wear a mask or pretend, I get to wear my heart on my sleeve, where it should be!ย Somewhere the conversation turned to the tattoo Ann had of Dante, the dog from Coco. I had been contemplating watching that movie again because I was thinking of my dad and all those who went before him.
When the day of the third Gipsy/Kiel show came and my body screamed at me to give it some rest, I decided to give in to self care and self comfort. With a blanket and cat at the ready, I put on Coco and floated away in a world of music and colour.ย
It underlined everything I have lived and learned through music since March. A story of a grieving process through finding myself again, finding my way to my people again and with music as a giant Purple thread throughout all of it. Coco is all about honouring your dead and speaking their name. Itโs about destiny. Of going against the grain, about not just following the road of what is expected of you. About a belief in yourself that you cannot let go.ย ย
Music is part of my destiny, in one form or another. Music as the fuel for my words and art. Music as a life force driving me from one place to another, discovering the world and its people. Music as a form of therapy, mindfulness and anti-depressant. In making it myself eventually. (Though I have still yet to successfully form or keep a band.) Itโll always be there alongside of me, in one form or another. I need to keep seeing it, feeling the fuel of it.ย
My road seems riddled now with little reminders to it. At the end of the month, the day of the wild Bridge City Sinners gig, I am on a group outing. Suddenly, I am surrounded by the colour and wonder of Coco in this Dia de Los Muertos decor.
I smile and walk through it. Putting in my earbuds and FEELING the music that is playing.ย I want and NEED to learn to keep my eyes and ears open for these reminders of the beauty. It’s so easy to miss it all in the overwhelm when your senses get glazed over by the mist of darkness.
So I am leaving this note here. As a light, a shining beacon of how it can be, if I remember to REALLY see.
Part 2: Kiel Grove an Gipsy Rufina live @ De Floeren Aap, Mechelen| Monday, September 11th 2023
This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me. Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another. And thatโs how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember. In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage. With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life. The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my Self.
Because Jo had been so empathic about just how Purple he thought Gipsy was, I was pretty sure attending a second date of this tour would by no means be a waste of my time. So when I received an excited message from Ann inviting me to the shows, (Whom Iโd met at the James Hunnicutt & WhiskeyDick tour back in June.) I didnโt hesitate for a second.
The fact that two very Purple people around me were pointing me simultaneously and independently in the same musical direction, was a surefire sign I was in for something special. The fact that the tour was passing through de Floeren Aap in Mechelen was an added bonus, since spending time in my home town is always a treat.ย
After a short bike ride on a hot summer night, I arrive at the city centre and excitedly walk over to the table where Ann is sitting with her husband David. Even though we barely had a full conversation at the James Hunnicutt shows, it feels like sitting down with old friends. We immediately get to chatting about music and fire some recommendations this way and that. Some more Purple souls called Natasha & Pablo join the company at the table and the conversation swings into an oddly fluent and fluid mix of Dutch and English, which makes me feel even more at home.
Eventually both Kiel & Gipsy also join the party before deciding whoโs going to open tonight via a game of rock paper scissors. The mix of English and Dutch gets complemented by a conversation in which Gipsy speaks Italian & Pablo answers in Spanish. I feel like Iโm on holiday in my own city, locked away in this hidden square right near the bustling centre of town. Itโs the language of music that brings people together.
Eventually we shuffle into The Floeren Aap, to the best spot in the house, just as Kiel takes the stage first. Now, even though I was better prepared having lived through one of his sets already and was aware of what I was about to encounter, my notes still reveal a general lack of accurate terms to describe Kiel Grove. I canโt. I seriously cannot. I tried to pinpoint it in my post about his passage in The Black Flamingo, but it still doesnโt seem to do it justice. The way he sort of plays and sings his tunes is pretty damn unique.ย
I am again enthralled by his storytelling skills and even though I heard some of the tales before at the Flamingo, I am still just as transfixed in listening as I was just a few days ago. Iโm not even going to try to retell them, youโll just have to discover them for yourself when Kiel next crosses the ocean for a tour in these parts. I decided to capture some of the pre-song banter to give a better idea of the Kiel Grove experience. Again, the video vibe is nowhere near the real deal but it should give some impression on the spellbinding narration and wizardry on the guitar.ย
At this point I also want to point out that this is the 15th consecutive day these guys have been playing on their 21 day European tour. Can you imagine the general weariness youโd feel on a near month long tour of driving and playing every day in the sweltering summer heat? And it doesnโt show one bit in neither of their playing. Such is the life of the troubadour that it actually seems to only get better as the days go by. Of course, playing every day could also be seen as very good practice, which in any case really shows in the skilful way they both run through their setlists with ease.ย
After a break for some somewhat cooler outside air and the petting of local dogs, (Kiel is clearly missing his four legged friend on tour, but is making do with love for other peopleโs pets while on the road. My kinda people!) it is time for set two.
Weโre in for some more Gipsy magic starring that bewitching banjo and enchanting voice. I sit there completely entranced watching him pick at his instruments, his hands a blur in the process. The spell is only broken when, between songs, I hear the voices from the terrace outside. I write down that I cannot understand how you can bear to stay outside for this. How that music doesnโt draw those people in like moths to a flame. How they seem to be able to strike up casual conversations while this is happening in the foreground.
The only cover Gipsy plays on the tour, but WHAT a discovery for me. I’m in immediate love with this song.
Maybe itโs just something in my constitution but I barely register people talking to me while this set is ongoing. Good music can never be in the background to me. Limited as my attention span may be, there is just something about good live music that seems to completely sweep me away from the perils of this mortal coil. I float in a gentle world between worlds, where my body is present in the present, but my soul is somewhere off dancing to the music and feeling its warm embrace.ย
Me, Natasha, Pablo & Gipsy at de Floeren Aap
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, but even when the musical instruments are put away, Iโm still halfway in that magical dreamland. We grab another table at the terrace and I vaguely remember trying to voice to Kiel & Gipsy how lovely I thought the experience was. We chat some more about musical influences and horror movies that are so bad theyโre good again, and I leave with a bag of recommendations I still need to check out.ย (After a few blurry selfies to commemorate the night of course.)
I made a plan to see them one more time on that tour, which unfortunately fell through because my body decided too much is enough. In the last part of this story, I sadly spend that night at home, resting my weary bones and mind. Thanks to the engaging conversation with Ann however, the musical synchronicity of that night would still play on. (Within this picture you can already see a hint towards part 3 of this series!)
Part 1: Gipsy Rufina and Kiel Grove live @ The Black Flamingo, Nijlen | Saturday, September 8th 2023
This is another series about synchronicity in music and synchronicity in threes. At the end of summer I was starting to get too far away from the feeling that the synchronicitous threes, rainbows and music had evoked. I was starting to treat writing about my musical encounters like a job, when music is really a calling to me. Music is calling to me and has been this whole year. One way or another. And thatโs how it should stay, so I am documenting this to help me remember. In three simple nights, I am right back to where it started in March. I feel the surge of my purpose, the burn of why this all came along my path when it did, and the love for the music and artists and all the Purple People in their entourage. With music as my spirit guide, to lead me on a new path in life. The Purple thread I follow along the road to the best version of my Self.
In Part one, we find ourselves in The Black Flamingo:
As loyal readers might already know, Black Flamingo Jo and I have an uncannily similar taste in music. When he told me a few months ago I NEEDED to be at The Black Flamingo for Gipsy Rufina, I took his words as gospel, as I tend to do these days. I didnโt need to listen to the music in advance, I blindly trust Joโs judgement in who he programs on his stage. Plus, I am loving discovering it all live before I dive into the recorded bits. He told me all about how Gipsy has been touring for nearly 20 years and how he was probably the last remaining troubadour. *TRIGGERED*
What Jo failed to mention however, was that it was to be a double bill with Kiel Grove. I get a feeling Jo likes to keep some aces up his sleeve on purpose, just to keep me on my toes. Remember how he didnโt tell me about James Hunnicutt and how well that turned out? I had a very similar experience discovering Kiel Grove. (Despite them being very different in sound and energy.) These are the kind of surprises I donโt mind on my path at all. ๐ Anyway, whereas I was already extremely excited for the night, I was yet again NOT AT ALL prepared for what was to come all the same. Iโm still not sure if I can find the right words to describe these two astonishing artists, whoโve got music coursing through their very souls.
Driving up to The Black Flamingo is like arriving in a little paradise, hidden away from the big bad world. I make friends with some locals who are curious about what is going on in that shed up yonder. I get to pet their ancient dog Duck before running in, with my very Rock & Roll sitting donut in hand. One benefit of having a sore tailbone (and no longer giving a fuck if I look Rock & Roll) is that I get to throw that thing down, and go off to talk Joโs ear off while still retaining the best seat in the house. We talk about all the music we still want to hear, some crazy musical road trip plans and all the Black Flamingo line-ups we still want to achieve.
The music draws me to my seat but alas, as it was just the soundcheck I was a little early to arrive. I get talked at by HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. I am not sure what the opposite of Purple is, but it was clear that this person was SO out of place in this safe haven of music. I will spare you the details of the conversation, only that I was getting gradually more angry at him for being generally disgusting and not taking some very clear no’s for an answer. (Don’t worry, my great pack of Purple People protectively separated me quickly from this waste of space and it’s safe to say he shall never return.)
The first notes of Gipsy finally brought sweet relief from the sexist pig and his persistence in offering up his โservicesโ. *shudder* As you can tell by the above picture, taken by Jo and graciously adorned with a very broad vignette blur, my disgust was quickly replaced by my customary ear to ear smile. The contrast in atmosphere couldn’t be more stark once I get to focus on the beautiful music.
Oh deary me. I spot a banjo and my heart starts to race. One expertly fingered strum and the sound is making everything else disappear around me. This is why weโre here. To lose ourselves in the music. Were there still other people around me? There must have been? I can no longer be sure as I close my eyes and am one with the music. โIโm going to play some banjo for you, if you donโt mind.โ No, I most certainly donโt mind Gipsy, Iโve been waiting for it.
This is where I fervently draw an arrow to further on in my notes where I write โAnd we definitely donโt mind when you play it like that!โ The sound he draws from that banjo is unreal, itโs like thereโs a full band on stage. He goes crazy on his pedals and the distortion makes it sound extraordinary. He swiftly moves around every square inch of his beautiful instrument and hits every fret, chord and note like magic. Iโve seen many a banjo played expertly over the last couple of months, but this is something else. Meanwhile he brings out a harmonica and seems to be playing fifteen notes at once. It is mind-blowing, it is sensational.
And his voice? What a fucking marvellous instrument it is in its own right. It is raw, hoarse and heavy but gentle at the same time. Just how Iโd imagined a troubadour to sound like. As he brings out his guitar, he starts to tell the story of Viola, a brigand who fought the pope. The story was passed on to him by his grandma, about the man who lived in the mountains 200 years ago. As Gipsy (aka Emiliano) starts to sing the song in his native Italian dialect, you can hear the indrawn breaths. For the next couple of minutes you can hear a pin drop as everyone listens completely captivated. My video does that song or the experience no justice at all. Much like my words fail to honour this experience.
Purple doesnโt BEGIN to describe it. We have to come up with another colour to define this. Maybe Terry Pratchettโs octarine, the colour of magic, comes closer in describing the aura that Gipsy Rufina exudes. I am in love with the music, the songs, the words, the songs (I wrote this down twice, this is not a typo) and that voice. I am usually a woman of many words, but this performance left me actually wordless. I pick myself up out of the puddle on the ground I have become, and venture out into the cool night air to compose myself.
I have to drag myself back in because Iโm about to miss Kiel Groveโs first song. Thereโs something special starting here. After being absolutely mesmerised by Gipsy Rufinaโs performance, I thought anything that followed would never be able to compare or hold up against that set. I couldnโt be more wrong, because here I am again just completely transfixed and blown away by the first few notes floating off the stage. Theyโre entirely different musicians in both style and approach, different vibes as a person, (though both very much shaded Purple) but it feels like they were made to perform in tandem.
I am trying to place Kiel in the music he resembles or triggers memories of in my head. At one point in my notes, I place him somewhere between WhiskeyDick & James Hunnicutt and I also compare his storytelling to the infamous Johnny Cash. But really, Kiel Grove is incomparable. His voice is hypnotic, drawing you in with that delightful Texas accent and that deep dark timbre with some peculiar but delicious tone inflections. I could listen to him talking and singing all night, narrating the stories that he has gathered like little treasures from life on the road. The stories and songs are sometimes nonsensical, whimsical and funny, but always intriguing and delivered with a deadpan expression.
His guitar playing is also something else. He seemingly effortlessly gets a sound from his instrument which I canโt believe can just come from one bit of wood and strings. It somehow feels like thereโs an invisible band around him, adding in some resonance and background. I see ONE man with ONE guitar, but I hear the soul of so much more sound. He deftly picks and plucks his strings, tells his stories and produces something indescribable.
Seeing the total package of a Kiel Grove performance is like being thrown back in time and I feel like the sofa Iโm on could just as well have been placed in the mud at Woodstock. It feels like thereโs echoes from a time long past interwoven in the music, almost like it doesnโt fit in this modern time. Almost, because I absolutely welcome the anachronistic feel of the web of musical muses from the past he weaves into his songs.
After Kielโs performance I finally found some of my words to talk to both artists and briefly compliment their sets. I have no idea what I told them because it felt like being on another planet and I still didnโt have any idea how to describe what just happened to me during those two sets. I fear I still canโt fully process it all. This is an account of events, but by no means a full one. All I know is, if I ever get a chance to see these wordsmith troubadours again, I will not hesitate one moment.
I hang around the aura of awesome and get to talking to Ronny, who is as impressed as I am about what happened tonight. Turns out he is also in a band called Promise Down, whoโd also played The Black Flamingo in January. Unfortunately, I was not yet aware of that piece of promised land in Nijlen at that point in time, so I had sadly missed their show that sounded really good looking back. I make a mental note to put them on my musical radar and promise Ronny to come see them soon!
After some more catch up chats with Purple Flamingoes I finally drive home smiling like crazy, a little stupefied, and a lot drunk on (love for) music.
Luckily for me, I already have the next Gipsy & Kiel tourstop circled in my calendar, which you’ll discover soon in part 2 of this series!
PART 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.
Anticipatie in aanloop naar: Flamin’ Go Fest op 26 augustus 2023
Wat kan ik nog vertellen over mijn geliefde The Black Flamingo dat ik niet al eerder en lyrischer deed dan in mijn tweedelige ode in de serie rond Whiskey Dick & James Hunnicutt? Veel waarschijnlijk. Want ondertussen is mijn gevoel mijn plus-familie daar te hebben gevonden alleen nog maar versterkt. Dat lees je hier nog wel eens, als ik ertoe kom. Ik heb nog heel wat stukjes in mijn achterzak (lees: mijn Google Drive) zitten. Over de double bill van Kevlar en Dalver, of die van Freddie Webber en Berang, en over de passage van Luna en de Maanstenen aldaar. Ook nog een serietje rond Joey Henry, dat begon met pre-FOMO omdat hij eerst in Den Oude Ketel kwam en ik wist dat ik spijt zou hebben als ik dat niet had meegemaakt eens hij dan uiteindelijk passeerde in de Flamingo zelf. (Ik ben naar beide optredens gegaan, ver over mijn grenzen. Maar het was het MEER dan waard.)
Eindelijk, na maanden vergeten dan toch de selfie met Jo & Polexia!
Want als Jo zegt dat ik moet komen, dan kom ik, no questions asked. En ook, zonder goed te weten waaraan ik begin. Want ik had de laatste tijd niet de tijd om muziek te ontdekken. Enfin, ik maakte de tijd niet, een werkpuntje van mij. Vanaf nu is muziek ontdekken een mogelijk stukje zelfzorg dat ik oppik, wanneer ik mezelf dwing tot rust en zelfzorg. Ik moet mezelf soms dwingen daartoe, jawel, anders loop ik mezelf geheel voorbij. Maar goed, daโs een ander verhaal, voor een andere blogreeks. Punt van deze paragraaf is, Jo kent mij (en mijn muzieksmaak) na 6 maanden beter dan ik mezelf ken. Ik weet dat ik op zijn oordeel kan vertrouwen. Daarom staat deze zaterdag 26 augustus al maanden omcirkeld in mijn agenda. Deze zaterdag is het namelijk tijd voor Flaminโ GO Fest. Vlammende GAAN in het Engels, geen feest voor flamingo’s. Al zijn die natuurlijk ook altijd welkom. Strijk maar neer!
Vorige week gaf Jo me nog een korte synopsis van de groepen die daar zullen aantreden. Ik noteerde niets (in mijn glimmend nieuwe schrijfschrift, bye bye Google Docs!) en daarna overdonderde Joey Henri me alweer volledig met zijn muziek-medicijn-groepstherapie, dus ik ga zelfs niet proberen het te ontrafelen en iets zinnigs te recapituleren. Ik weet enkel dat ik elke keer โOh ja, check, klinkt DIK in orde!โ dacht (en of zei) na de info die hij verschafte per band. En dat ze allemaal stuk voor stuk PAARS AS FUCK klinken. Dus, geloof in mijn geloof in de uitstekende muzieksmaak van Mister Black Flamingo himself en komt dat zien. (Of zoek ze zelf even op via de Youtubes, Spotify, Bandcamps en andere sociale netwerken van deze wereld.)
Vier topbands, een barbeque met Flaminโ Go pilli pilli saus van Yannick Zwijsen (NIET voor gevoelige zielen/magen) en een Free Podium? Count me in!
Toegang is 15 euro voor enkel de muziek & en 25 euro als je ook een vleesje wil. (Ben je Veggie? Geef dat dan zeker door, ook met uw wensen kan rekening worden gehouden!)
Zeg nu zelf, dat is gรฉรฉn geld voor een festival in tijden van graai-flatie. Drank is bovendien beschikbaar aan zeer democratische prijzen.
Wil jij er ook bij zijn? Stuur dan een gele briefkaart naar een van de bands of slide into the DMโs van The Black Flamingo op Instagram en Facebook en schrijf je op voorhand in. Want het is een privรฉfeest, enkel voor de meest Paarsen der zielen.
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!
Deze reportage in drie delen is iets waar ik al even op broed. Ergens tussen de zeven en twee maanden ofzo. Ik moest er eerst iets anders uitkrijgen voor het allemaal een logisch gevolg van elkaar werd.
En natuurlijk wachten op het laatste deel uit de trilogie voor ik ze kon schrijven.
Geniet van deel twee, op een van mijn meest favoriete herinneringen dit jaar. (Tot dan toe althans) De rest van het verhaal? Hier zijn Deel 1 en Deel 3.
Part 2: Pete Bernhard (met Clyde McGee), eerste Europese solo tour SECOND STOP: Tequila Tattoos, Hulshout- 9 april 2023
Het is symbolisch. Het is de verjaardag van ons pa en daarom ben ik hier. Daarom spelen ze hier. Synchroniciteit. Ze, want Pete Bernhard is herenigd met zijn tourbuddy Clyde McGee voor een bijzonder mooi intiem optreden.
De sfeer voor het optreden is ontspannen. Het is een van de eerste echte lentedagen en we zitten in de tuin van Tequila Tattoos. We zijn omringd door fijne mensen, schattige viervoeters en een gevoel van anticipatie. Er wordt gelachen, geaaid en gedronken. De eerste gitaartonen klinken van binnen en we schuifelen allemaal achter elkaar aan naar een plekje in de Tattoo shop.
Opnieuw: instant liefde voor het instrument. (Ook weer een thema in deze reeks.) En daarmee bedoel ik zowel stem als gitaar. Wat een mooie, warm-diepe sound heeft die man! Een absolute aanrader als je hem ooit in een van zijn gedaantes (solo of met The Bridge City Sinners of The Milltailers) kan zien? Niet denken, gewoon GAAN. En de gitaar? Ja, daar heb ik een zwak voor, zowel naar geluid als vorm. Helaas krijg ik voorlopig geen zinnig akkoord uit mijn vingers geperst, anders had ik er minstens al zo รฉรฉntje! (En dan nog liefst een blauwe, zoals Eugene van Gogol Bordello, maar da’s voor later!)
Zie die gitaar. HARTJES.
Na de show sprak ik Clyde even aan om te laten weten wat het me deed dit soort muziek te mogen ontdekken op de verjaardag van mijn pa. Ik weet niet meer exact wat er gezegd werd, maar het liet me alleszins achter met een heel warm gevoel.
Een kort sfeerbeeld. Onthou zeker de man in het oranje kostuum en de top hat. Hij komt later nog terug!
Dan werd het tijd voor hoofd act Pete Bernhard. De muziek komt bij mij even hard binnen als in The Black Flamingo. Ik sta daar wat op mijn voeten te wiegen met een gelukzalige glimlach op mijn gezicht. Ik beweeg door de ruimte en raak in (fluisterend, geen zorgen) gesprek met Cedric, iemand die bij het vorige optreden ook aanwezig was. Ik kan me ook niet meer exact herinneren wat er werd gezegd maar het ging over burn-out. Het waren alleszins begrijpende woorden over de natuur, rust opzoeken en dergelijke meer. Alweer iets dat je kan verwachten in het publiek van een optreden. (H)erkenning. Schoon toch?
Excuses, ik heb geen goed beeld van Pete alleen omdat ik te hard bezig was met te wiegen en glimlachen.Ik ben dan ook schrijver en geen fotograaf.(Voor deel 3 รฉn Gogol Bordello heb ik wel deftig beeldmateriaal gefixt. Enfin, ons Polexia met haar grote mond heeft dat geregeld.)
Na het optreden liet diezelfde kerel mijn autistische brein, geheel onbedoeld, achter met het grootste mysterie van mijn leven. (Overdrijving. n.v.d.r.) We stonden samen te wachten aan de geรฏmproviseerde Merchtafel. Komt daarbij: de man met het kostuum. Hij heet Nico en is een belevenis op zich. (In de beste zin van die woorden, mocht daar twijfel over bestaan.)
Er ontstaat een speelse schermutseling tussen Nico en mezelf om wie de originele set list krijgt en wie de kopie. Ik heb verloren en door die hele heisa ook mijn kans gemist om mijn setlist getekend te krijgen.
No worries, want die van de eerste show was al geannoteerd รฉn gehandtekend door Pete. Ik zie nog de kans schoon om een van de prachtige tourposters te bemachtigen en laten signeren door beide artiesten. Veel beter.
Suck on that, Nico! (Pas op, hij komt NOG eens terug, he! Derde keer voor wie mee aan het tellen is.) Mijn setlistkopie krijg ik zeer uitgebreid en op geheel onleesbare wijze alsnog ondertekend terug. Schrijver van dienst is weer die Cedric, die zich op dat moment alleen maar als ‘De broer van Franky’ wil kenbaar maken. Komt daarbij dat mijn brein zijn hoofd plaatst op de man die me eerder in The Black Flamingo vroeg of ik ‘de zus van de Spijker’ was en het mysterie was geboren.
Toevalligerwijze kwam ik hem in deze Week Der Optredens tegen bij The Chats. Daardoor weet ik dat de broer van de Franky gewoon Cedric heet en helemaal niet mysterieus, maar gewoon lichtjes dronken was. (Ik liet hem trouwens achter met mijn eigen mysterie, (of dat beeld ik met toch in.) waarover later meer! Het is hier nogal iets met al die cliffhangers tegenwoordig, seg. En de haakjes.)
De Merchvangst van de dag, trots uitgestald op de tafel waar later mijn Kapsalon (dat ik niet opgegeten kreeg van de pure adrenaline) zou gebracht worden, door een man die het schouwspel met een zeer geamuseerde blik aanschouwde.
Deze, voor u als lezer mogelijk onnodige, zwierige zijsprong om aan te geven dat het hier niet alleen om de muziek maar om de verbondenheid draait. Ahja, en de traditionele selfies natuurlijk:
DownSideUp 