Two giant, inflatable penises stare down at me from the stage as I ease my way into Mercury’s entrance and slide onto the upper floor on a steamy Saturday’s eve.
The venue is quite destitute right now, but it takes about 11 minutes for the club to runneth over. American Hi-Fi’s ‘Girl All The Bad Guys Want’ soars over heads and across the airwaves like a warm nostalgia blanket and I’m abruptly transported back to the better half of the ’90s when drinks were cheaper, hairstyles were considerably shittier and three-quarter shorts were shorter, or longer — I’m not actually sure.
I’m here to watch Tweak — something of a legacy band I grew up listening to while double-clutching strawberry flavoured hubbly in sneaky corners of friends’ garages and practicing paradiddles on any drummable surface within arm’s reach. But enough about me, let’s talk about the opening act: Veladraco.
If you’re a human who lives in South Africa you will have heard of Veladraco. If you haven’t — and this is probably quite detrimental to Texx’s site’s bounce rate, SORRY — but please stop reading this and go the fuck away! The reason I feel so strongly about this band is manifold. Firstly, the sounds they create draw yuuuuge parallels to the brand of pop punk rock I grew up on and on which I cut my own teeth, but with one small yet very significant difference: Veladraco can actually pull it off live, and damn well, son.
Secondly, lead-man Alain Marthezé is an veritable musical genius and must surely be on the brink of becoming a nationwide sensation; songwriting, stage presence, technical ability, all there. He’d be a household name if anyone in Cape Town could afford to own a house. Also, from my limited interaction with the guy, he seems like a decent bloke… but don’t quote me on that.
Fun fact: Veladraco is a portmanteau of the Latin words Vela and Draco meaning Velvet Dragon, which is totally apt because they play velvety smooth pop punk tunes that also emit pure fire. Another fun fact is that I’m a compulsive liar. Let me digress…
I, unashamedly, not only sang along, word-for-word to every one of Veladraco’s tracks, but I even added my own harmonies — majestic harmonies, harmonies that the obviously talented but equally lazy bassist and guitarist apparently couldn’t be bothered to deal with! Nice one. All jokes aside, if the show had ended after Veladraco’s set, I would’ve left Mercury wholly satisfied, with a smile on my face and probably some kind of unrelated cluster growth on my ever dwindling internal organs. Don’t worry I’m fine. And if what I’ve just said has somehow lured you into to checking out Veladraco’s music online, I implore you to give a hard listen to ‘Towns’, ‘Cliche’, ‘Animals’ and ‘Circles’. If neither of those do anything for you, you might wanna get that checked out by a professional because you have a serious problem pal.
Ugh where do I begin with Tweak? The band seems to have aged backwards since the ’90s. Brothers Garth and Brendan “Benjamin Button Bugsy” Barnes (a drum hero of mine since forever) manage to graciously impart a unique brand of symbiotic punk sync (which is, musically, unorthodox for a guitarist and drummer) that I can only imagine is the result of having shared a stage for over 500 years and also their siblingry — which is a word I just made up, deal with it. And yeah I’d love to say great things about Tweak’s bassist but this is pop punk, not acid jazz or space reggae or funk opera. Or rocket science. He did exactly what he needed to do, when he need to do it, and well. I simply cannot fault him on anything: bom-bom-bom-bom. Classic!
However, slightly unhinged props must go to Tweak’s newest and undeniably most sexy member, Ricki Allemann, who not only managed to breathe fresh millennial life into legendary tracks like ‘House Party’, ‘Buy The World’ and ‘Birthday Card’, but also managed to garner the love of every girl (and probably guy too, it’s 2017) in his immediate vicinity with his boyish good looks, devil-may-care stage presence and precision palm muting. I mean, the guy was even wearing what I assume was a custom-made T-shirt with a single word print: MOIST, which in retrospect was hella accurate considering the amount of sliding going on stage front. Side note: if it sounds like I’m having a fanboy moment here, it’s because I am. I won’t apologise.
A large part of me (my brain, because it’s swollen), feels like taking advantage of an entire bottle of gin, straight (the Bombay Sapphire one they removed from the shelves overseas because of excess alcohol levels preferably) and having a good, long, therapeutic weep session on a staircase somewhere about the fact that I just might’ve been holy witness to the last ever Tweak show… but deep down in my heart, deep down in my everything, I know that — and I say this with facetious levels brimming a solid 0 — that bands this iconic — even if they are niche in 2017 — bands this adored, never really die or fade away, but rather live on as long as their fans, the crazy fucks who crave wholesome and uplifting vibes, sourced ethically and organically by some of the raddest pop punkers South Africa has had the privilege of parenting. Mouthful!
Disclaimer: This review took me so long to write because I only woke up from the gig yesterday.
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