I know there are times when I have some peculiar notions, and I guess I’m being completely unreasonable when I assume that the point of going to a gig is to actually watch the bands. I know, I know, silly me, what was I thinking?! I’d had a really bad day at work yesterday, and was thoroughly looking forward to this gig, so when I found myself seemingly in the midst of a Ken and Barbie clone convention, I didn’t respond with the same level of perkiness they were all displaying. I can’t think why. Could be the fact that the jocks and jockettes had so much to say to each other (mostly about shampoo from what I overheard), that it was virtually impossible to hear the first two bands.
Farryl Purkiss is a pretty soft spoken guy, and so unfortunately he bore the brunt of the incessant chatter. I don’t think it helped that the sound was not optimal, meaning that you could barely hear the vocals during the songs, and practically not at all when Farryl was chatting with the crowd between songs. We tried moving to different parts of the club but to no avail. It’s a pity because of course, the sumptuous and laid back vocals of this talented individual are the focal point of his music, and I was frustrated not to be able to enjoy his set as much as I had anticipated, simply because I was irritated by those around me. Nonetheless, what I could hear was fantastic as always, and the end of every song was heralded by a large cheer from the crowd, so it must have been penetrating somehow. One of the highlights of the evening for me though was when Farryl invited his mentor, Matt Wilkinson of Perez fame on stage to do a few songs, including one of Matt’s. Being the huge Perez fan that I am, this was a major whoohoo moment for me, and I can only hope that we will be seeing more of Matt soon.
Next up was the main attraction for me. I will confess to only really knowing one of Bed on Bricks’ songs, the catchy and sardonic Funny. But when I first heard this song on MK89, I fell in love with it as furiously as a school girl experiencing her first crush….to the point that I think my poor housemate at the time was ready to lose his reason if he heard me scream “ooooh ooooh its my song!!” before turning the TV as loud as it would go one more time. So I was really keen to check them out and see if the rest of their songs lived up to the one I had heard. This intrigue was enhanced by the fact that I knew Tim (drums) was previously in Dorp and Mike (vocals/sax) was formerly of Sons of Trout – serious credentials. However, I seemed to keep missing them. It went something like this: Ooh, Bed on Bricks is playing at Burn tonight. Wait, SNG is playing at Gateway (now now, no one can expect me to ever miss SNG for anything!!). Fuck. Ooh, Bed on Bricks is playing at Splashy this year. Wait, that’s the weekend my sister arrives from Ireland. Fuck. Ooh, Bed on Bricks is playing at the Royal Show. Wait, I have to work. Fuck. I had resigned myself to this terrible cycle of disappointment. But then a ray of hope arrived in my email inbox and last night’s gig was added to the social calendar. In ink. So, was this band worth the hype I had generated in my head? Well, the sound was still pretty poor by the time they took to the stage, but nonetheless, I wasn’t disappointed that I’d made the long trek out to Sibaya. It’s quite hard to describe the sound of Bed on Bricks as they seem to skip lightly through many genres. There’s a lot of funk, a fair helping of ska and of course a generous portion of rock thrown in. One friend described them as being similar to Sublime. The energy they bring to their performance is most definitely sublime and the alcopop fuelled crowd was bopping along. Naturally when they played Funny I nearly went through the roof, and then was thrilled to witness something I had heard others speak of in awed tones – half way through the song, the band freezes. There is perfect silence and they all remain in the exact pose in which they paused…for at least a minute as well. This is an incredible way to draw the attention of your crowd, and even the jockettes managed to stop flipping their hair and air kissing each other long enough to see what was going on. Finally, when it seemed like the tension couldn’t be borne any longer, they whirled back into action and the crowd went wild. Definitely a band worth the long wait I’ve had to see them, and hopefully the next time there will be better sound available to them.
I haven’t quite worked out yet if Sitter are really sweet about rewarding their loyal fans, or really crafty when it comes to renting a crowd. I have heard talk of them bussing in fans and friends to their gigs but I’d never seen it before. Until we arrived at Sibaya last night just as two of Durban’s legendary Ricksha Buses (infamous for terrestrial booze cruises) vomited out their cargo of testosterone and hairspray junkies, each with a drink in one hand and a comp in the other. Whatever Sitter’s motivation is, it’s a clever ploy because the last time I was at Krakatoa, poor Prime Circle were lost in the vastness of an empty venue, and last night you could barely move without being trampled by a rugby player or spiked by a stiletto heel. Waiting in line for a drink at the bar turned out to be a serious commitment. But I digress. The sound seemed to improve marginally when the featured band appeared on stage, and suddenly the crowd was totally focussed on what was going on. Sitter is an inoffensively middle of the road kind of band. They have one really catchy song which I know I’ve heard on radio a lot and actually quite like, but otherwise they’re sort of like a Watershed for the under 30’s set. Okay, okay, that’s mean. They are way better than Watershed – after all, they don’t make me want to injure myself just to get away. But you get the genre I’m talking about. They are quite clearly doing something very, very right because the audience that had previously been so self-engrossed were suddenly transfixed by them and getting very exciteable. I was quite entertained by their choice of covers – a Roy Orbison song, and one by the Four Non-Blondes. Hmmm. They were enthusiastic on stage and lapping up the attention of their seemingly devoted followers. In fact, I think they could do quite well for themselves, assuming of course they don’t blow the budget on Ricksha Buses.
We opted not to stick around for DJ Chunky Charlie…yet more of my unreasonable nature I guess. I’m always fascinated by why clubs so often opt to play dance music after they’ve just had 3 rocking bands, but looking around me last night I guess it probably would have appealed. All I can say is that I hope the black lycra legging manufacturers are managing to keep up with demand, otherwise we’re set for a national crisis.
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