Well, how do you describe a weekend so haphazardly carved out of total spontaneity? I will endeavour to do my best. Posts have been severely lacking in the week of late, mainly because I was “working” in the library underlining meaningful passages from books too depressing to talk about here. And because I lacked a social life. Mike probably knows this better than most as I turned down Restless Natives on Tuesday, which is a stone’s throw away from my flat.
So Friday rolls around and I decide to make up for my dismal week and lack of jack, by making a dash for it halfway through dinner up Long and hop on over to Zula to catch the second Rock Out Radio launch. I missed the first one at Mercury. I was somewhere else. Not too sure where, but I was there. Line up was: Skyeclad, Cat String Theory, Red Light in June and Kings of Vegas. I sat outside for the first 3 bands with The Good and The Bad, who provided me with ample amusement and entertainment. There are times when it really is good catching up. And I mean that in all honesty. Anyway, enough sentiment and a touch more honesty…
I’m a snob when it comes to certain bands. Yes I am. There are times when I’m a bitch (or critical as I like to call it) and then there are times when I couldn’t care less about what’s going on onstage. And then there are those times in between where what I see and hear end up here. The Kings of Vegas have been hitting me with their impressive beams lately. And no, it’s not just because they’re working with Theo and Charlie and by this collaboration you’re almost assured that anything which comes out of there will be of the highest quality, but it’s because they seem to have adopted a better attitude towards their performances. I like the semi-personal chit chat between songs and the general crowd interaction. I like the way Richard moves between his synth and the mic with buoyant exuberance, even if his 1, 2, 3 counting is a little off beat (private joke). And on Friday it was very clear that the crowd liked it too, seeing as the floor was the fullest it was it had been the entire night when they took the stage. This also had a shit load to do with a group of toga-clad Romans who walked in before KOV started. I was particularly intrigued by one wearing an ANC flag as a toga and then proceeded to stand in front of the stage fan so she could do her best Marilyn-Monroe-dress-flying-up-no-underwear impersonation. Tourists.
Kings of Vegas
I had a little chat with Richard before the gig and he was explaining to me how well recording is going and how difficult it is for their drummer (who has now been nicely broken by Theo) to revert to his style of old when playing. What I would give to be a fly on the wall. Cheeeeez. Kings of Vegas are pure pop cheese. And I hate to admit but it’s growing on me. Next step is to buy the t-shirt. This is of course after I get myself an aKING one first.
So after all was said and (not) done I hightailed with The Good and The Bad to Mercury where I found the Pope almost incapacitated. And I was sober. The world is a vampire I tell you. So eventually everyone leaves and it’s just Pope and I shooting some Jagie with various people dancing to dodgy old reggae/dub tracks. Then Shack time. Then Engen time with some people I’ve never seen before. Then Pope spots some guys she went to school with and before we know it, the one has fallen into the processed foods fridge, and then we’re in a shiny 4×4 listening to Lotus FM, eating cheesy Simba chips and missioning off the Obs to buy Vodka. At 5 in the morning. Obz turned into Sarah’s kitchen with a bottle of wine and some beef lasagne, but all good things come to an end and we were chucked out into the rain by Mr Fantastic after we made “too much noise”. My response to this? Blah blah blah. Penance.
Saturday’s shenanigans will follow. I need to go do some more underlining.