Since 1965, this has been my bedroom at my parents' place in Pretoria, South Africa.
This was the humble birth-place of a million dreams, plans, hopes, fears, desires, passions, obsessions and neuroses. It has witnessed overwhelming joy, true love, heartbreak, the depths of depression, debilitating loss, hatred, bitterness, sorrow and happiness.
It is the place where I studied for 12 years at school and earned three cum laude degrees, where radio became my friend and medium of choice, where I developed my eclectic taste in music and escaped into new and exciting worlds of sound. It was here that myself (and others) prepared for sleep-overs, parties, matric dances, army goodbyes, trips to the border, weddings, christenings, funerals, graduations and expeditions abroad.
This room has witnessed the wildest of wild nights of S and D and R&R, projectile vomiters, rock throwers, long dong silvers, gun-slingers, bottle-snorters and neighbour-destroying loud music. My little room has witnessed so much and could tell a lifetime of stories...most of which will remain untold! ;-)
A special place that has witnessed my life and defined who I am today.
Over recent weeks, Debra and I have attended a couple of concerts in London, namely KISS and Guns N' Roses. Well, yesterday a young garage band that I (and a couple of hundred other interested beer drinkers) first saw in Prague on March 26, 1996 literally blew both KISS and GnR away with a masterful three hour set that packed nostalgia, fresh music, fun, energy, positivity, empathy, high energy, humanity, politics, emotion and a good vibe into one flawless, uplifting and efforlessly delivered package.
Twenty-one years on from when I first saw them, Green Day has finally self-actualised and become the band they were always capable of being. Now global mega-stars, the group's audience has grown from the handful of punters in the smoky, smelly Czech venue that I remember to an audience of 65,000 in Hyde Park for the second day of the British Summer Time festival on July 1, 2017.
And what a bloody fine day it was. The weather was perfect - sunny with clouds - and the crowd, good natured and knowledgible. The line-up was the reason Debs and I chose to attend this day of the festival. There were 18 acts on the bill, but we cherrypicked what we wanted to see, and took a laid-back approach to the day. This is what we ended up seeing:
We started the day with lunch and a few drinks at the Victory Services Club at Marble Arch.
The Stranglers (19h00) - I last saw them in 1996, but we decided not to give up our nice spot on the lawn just before Green Day, and so didn't take in their set this time round
On June 17, Guns N' Roses did a cover version of The Damned's "New Rose". Although I thoroughly enjoyed the GnR tribute to the London group's 1977 punk anthem, it was great to hear the track from the horse's mouth. I first heard it back in 1978 back in Pretoria when I bought the track as a 7-inch single. Still a bloody magnificent song, and The Damned delivered a very accomplished performance. They were better than expected.
The Hives were a revelation. Vocalist Howlin' Pelle Almqvist opened up their set with a comment along the lines of "We're a European band - you tried to get rid of us Europeans, but we're baaaaaack!" That set the scene for a short by stonking set that left both Debra and me declaring that we needed to see more of this razor sharp Swedish quintet. "Hate to Say I Told You So" is still a tight and brilliantly constructed garage track.
The Orwells hail from Chicago and seemed like angry young men. I can't say anything more than that as they were the background muzak as I bought beer between sets.
I'd seen Gogol Bordello on the Jools Holland show on the BBC some years ago, and they left an impression. However, I'd not listened to them since. For us they were the revelation of the day. The band's sound is inspired by Gypsy music mixed with violin, accordion punk, and some dub tossed in for good measure. Gogol Bordello's set was delivered at pace - energetic, theatrical and emotional. At times it brought tear to my eyes and a lump to my throat, and the Gypsy sound cut deep into my soul, reminding me why I want to remain European rather than being forced to become a Little Englander by Kim Jong May and her acolytes. Passionate music with a sense of tradition and flaunting its roots. "Gypsy punk" - absolutely loved it!
If it was American punk rock you wanted, Rancid was what you'd been waiting for. lthough they've been around since 1991, I didn't know their music. Rancid is apparently credited, along with Green Day and The Offspring, for reviving mainstream interest in punk rock in the USA and bringing a version of punk into the mainstream. Ska tracks peppered their set, which only cemented their links back to the likes of The Clash back in their heyday. An intense performance by some hardcore dudes. I need to tap into their nine album back-catalogue and learn more.
Prior to the main event, the audience got a bit of singing practice (I'm midfield, just to the right of centre). As I'm writing this, I have tears in my eyes. This is what immortality sounds like!
And then it was Green Day, on the UK leg of their "Revolution Radio" tour. Front-man Billie Joe Armstrong, bassist Mike Dirnt and drummer Tré Cool, thrashed into a caustic rendition of "Know Your Enemy" declaring that, given the state of the world, the night was all about freedom, unity and music making a difference. "No racism, no sexism, no homophobia - and no Donald Trump" - despite their advancing years, Green Day's performance had the whiff of a student protest. But Armstrong is a tireless showman who exudes charm, and whose razor sharp wit must make him one of music’s most likable performers. The band wore their affiliations on their sleeve all the way through to the encore. During "American Idiot" (the band’s protest against the Iraq war) Armstrong flicked the bird and yelled: “Fuck you, Donald Trump!” much to the amusement of the audience...all trying to blank over their own national embarrassment, namely Kim Jong May and her Blukip isolationists.
Despite all the positive audience interactions (including bringing members of the audience on stage to sing and play guitar), it was the relentless rock music and pure joy of the crowd that made the night so special. The band knocked out 27 songs over three hours, their set spanning almost 30 years. All the hits were there and no one in the 60,000 strong audience could have been disappointed. There was definitely something for everyone...including a bit of George Michael’s "Careless Whisper" and even Monty Pythons’ "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life." It was all a great deal of fun, and the overall tone of the show harked back to their youthful goofiness. Much needed in these depressing times.
We absolutely loved it and, at midnight, made our way home feeling tired but rejuvinated, and sporting broad grins from ear to ear! I wish all concerts/festivals could be like this.
Oh - and the organizers did a fantastic job of getting 60,000 people into the park and then out again at the end of the night. Security was high, but efficient and good natured. The food and drink facilities were amazing for a festival, and queues were managable. There was even a "craft beer" vendor which was a refreshing alternative to the ubiquitous cheap, fizzy lager fountains. The live audio was also exceptionally well managed. Sound engineers had erected "delay" towers (each topped with a bank of speakers) all the way to the back of the park and so audio was perfectly synchronised with the excellent array of large screens that were dotted around the site. Everyone in the park effectively had a front-row seat, without having to brave the mosh-pit. I guess I'm getting old ;-) The organizers of the abysmal Guns N' Roses concert at the Olympic Stadium in London could certainly learn a lot from the BST team.
On Saturday, June 17, 2017, my wife and I took in the Guns N' Roses reunion tour - "Not In This Lifetime" - at London's Olympic Stadium. So, what did we think? Here are some thoughts from that hot and sweaty summer's night.
Firstly, it must be said - what a remarkable guitarist Slash (a.k.a. Saul Hudson) is. I saw him playing solo a few years back and I'd forgotten how technically adept and effortlessly he plays. He is definitely one of the all-time great Rock 'n' Roll guitarists.
Secondly, Axl Rose (a.k.a. William Bruce Rose, Jr.) surprised us. We went in with low expectations, remembering his "Oh, oh, oh, oh sweet pie o' mine" days. Not only was his voice in pretty great shape, but Rose was noticeably slimmer. I guess the stint with AC/DC did him good, and gave his vocal cords the workout they needed. The cobwebs are gone, and there were only half a dozen or so times when his age showed and he lost the top end of his six octave vocal range. I'll forgive him for that. It was great to hear him do a cover version of AC/DC's "Whole Lotta Rosie" - it worked really well, and it's just a pity that my video camera ran out of battery before the end of the track.
Thirdly, it was great to see Duff McKagan (a.k.a. Michael Andrew McKagan) in the flesh. Freshly from the Hollywood Vampires, and founder of Velvet Revolver, I've wanted to see him in action for a long time. The highlight was his vocal for the cover version of The Damned's "New Rose". I thoroughly enjoyed the GnR tribute to the London group's 1977 punk anthem.
Fourthly, there were no big surprises in the set list, with the GnR classics being played, alongside covers of Nino Rota, The Damned, Wings, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan and AC/DC. The band also played an emotional rendition of Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" as a tribute to Chris Cornell, who died in May. As they dished out nearly three hours of ferocious, preposterous and moving rock, Debra and I were transported back a quarter of a century, to a different time and place, where we lived under a state of emergency and authoritarian rule, and music was one of the few escapes from harsh reality. "Sweet Child O’ Mine," "Welcome to the Jungle," “You Could Be Mine" and "Paradise City" stoked up nihilistic memories of old friends back in South Africa, wild parties, late night braais, tequila, whiskey, wine, Old Brown Sherry, sex, drunken death games in speeding cars, mixed tapes and altered states of consciousness. Phew - there are reams of memories bound up in those tracks, and it was wonderful to hear them first hand. "Civil War" in particular brought back all too vividly a time in history when South Africa was burning, with the country balanced on a knife's edge.
I don't need your civil war
It feeds the rich while it buries the poor
Your power hungry sellin' soldiers
In a human grocery store
Ain't that fresh
I don't need your civil war
Yes - exactly - right song, right time, right place. Will never be forgotten.
On the flip side, I now remember why I have not been to another stadium concert since seeing U2 at Strahov Stadium in Prague in 1997. The commute to the Olympic Stadium (on the hottest day of the year) was reasonable. Thameslink to St. Pancras and South Eastern trains to Stratford International. And then the walk from hell to "Bridge 3", the massive security operation and the climb to the top of the stadium...where no drinks were sold. No - I don't like stadium shows. The sound at the venue was also abysmal. As the band launched into its opening track - "It's So Easy" - smiles of anticipation turned into looks of disbelief. The acoustics towards the back of the stadium felt like radioactive sludge. It was like being in a badly lip-synced Milli Vanilli video, with the culprit being the phasing of the central and rear loudspeakers. This meant that the music and images on the big screens were barely in the same time zone.
Bloody hell - the show was not nearly loud enough either. With the reverberation around the athletics stadium, all the detail and nuances were lost by the time the sound reached us, and the volume had escaped to the sky. There was absolutely no ringing in my ears by the end of the show and, all in all, it was like listening to a Guns N' Roses album through a down pillow and a large bag of popcorn. Atrocious. At £105.75 for a crap seat, I really expected more, but I guess the band only got back together to milk the old cash cow, so maximizing profits is what it was all about.
This spilled over into the whole look and feel of the performance as well. This was a gig with production values at an all time low. There was really no "show", and it was certainly no Rammstein, AC/DC, Muse, Kiss, Marliyn Manson, Metallica or Alice Cooper. It was simply a handful of blokes and a chick standing on the stage, occasionally changing positions. And from the back you couldn't see them anyway. We made a good call when we brought along our binoculars. As half of the performance was in the summer sunshine, there was negligible investment in a "light show" and even the limited pyrotechnics seemed insignificant from where we were. There was certainly no grand spectacle to compensate for the crap sound - and for that size venue (and for that price) I'd expected more.
The concert lasted a full two and a half hours and leaving the stadium and getting back on our train home took almost as long. I don't know how many people were there - possibly 50,000 - but the stadium security people did not do a good job of getting people out and pointing them in the right direction. It was confusing, frustrating and uncomfortable, and tempers flared. There was also no place for the dehydrated crowd to buy water...only t-shirts and memorabilia to feed the profit machine. The cherry on the top was having to take the packed, slow Thameslink from St. Pancras back to Hertfordshire, followed by the walk home. Good grief - that train ride seemed endless!
Walking out of the arena at the end of the gig, my wife and I both made the same observation. We now remembered why we dropped GnR like a hot potato at the dawn of the grunge era. Chunks of the performance were dedicated to spotlighting Slash's guitar virtuosity. As I've said, a remarkable talent, but the long, protracted guitar solos were a leftover from the 70's at the time before punk came and blew away Prog Rock in one-minute-fifty-nine. Similarly, back in the early 90's bands had descended into big hair, spandex, pompous elitism, bloated compositions, self-indulgent displays of musical proficiency and overblown delusions of grandeur. The onstage onanism in front of a packed audience in London reminded us how grunge had wiped the slate clean and how it invigorated us and made music fresh again, all those years ago. We were happy to have seen GnR's virtuosos in action, but also glad that we'd moved on from all of that pretentiousness a long time ago. And to quote The Guardian: “…what seemed overtly masculine in youth seems theatrically feminine in middle age: the camp mannerisms of a rocker grinding around the stage, the falsetto vocals, Slash’s fantastic black cloud of hair. The huge emotional neediness of everything. The passion. The love.” Yup – all a bit much; we’ve definitely grown up.
So, did we enjoy the show? I was certainly excellent to see much of GnR's original line-up (through binoculars), and to hear all those classics from the band's glory days. But the overall experience was disappointing, primarily due to the venue and just the size of the audience. Will I do another stadium concert? No. Will I return to the Olympic Stadium in London? Nope - not in this lifetime!
This is a photo of me, aged five, with my first Medium Format camera. It's a "Banier" - a clone of the "Diana", made by the Great Wall Plastic Factory in Hong Kong, and first sold in the early 60's for less than $3.00. The Diana is the darling of the lomography crowd, and it’s not entirely clear whether the Banier is a Diana clone or just an actual Diana under another name. But it's probably safe to assume that it’s an incarnation of the Diana, made in the same molds but sold in geographies where the manufacturer thought they'd get a better response to a different brand name. The Banier was a glorified box camera that shot 120 roll film and produced 4x4cm images, sixteen to a roll.
This photo was taken in East London by my father with his fantastic Kodak Retina IIIc, a camera that eventually accompanied me on a European tour in 1978-79. In fact, I still own the Retina, and may still have the Banier too. I wouldn't be surprised if it was in a box at my mother's place in Pretoria, South Africa. It was January 5, 1967 and I got the camera as a Christmas present a week or so earlier. It replaced the Kodak Box Brownie that my parents gave me for Christmas when I was three or four years old.
This photo was taken two days later - January 7, 1967. I think it was at my paternal grandmother's home at 5 Crown Flats, 20 Eales Street, King William's Town, Cape Province, South Africa. This shot was also taken with my father's magnificent Kodak Retina IIIc.
Interestingly my gran, Caroline Catherine Pautz (nee Wright), was a photographic assistant at a studio in King William's Town for much of her working life, and this is no doubt the origin of my family's interest in photography.
Read this fantastic 2016 review of the Banier. I love his comment up front: "Spoiler alert: Unless you seriously want that junky, lo-fi, plastic crap camera experience, avoid these." :-)
Although it's clearly not the greatest camera in the world, my cheap plastic Banier was a gateway to a new world for me. It put technology in the hands of a young boy and planted the little creative seed that I still nurture to this day. Respect.
