Monthly Archive for August, 2010

Cheetah Encounter

Joseph, the Cheetah

I spend a lot of time on tour in Cape Town but haven’t really spent much of that time exploring the incredible sights. On my last tour I finally managed to get to the Old Biscuit Mill which I hope to make a tradition on many tours to come – a great way to spend a Saturday morning, and so very “Capetonian”. On a holiday three years ago (probably the last time I had a holiday) I saw the penguins and seals, caught the whales off the coast on a very lucky drive down the peninsula, and took pics of those famous coloured huts on Muizenberg beach. So today being the last day of my current tour, I decided it was time to catch up on some exploration… but this time, something very special!

My sister took the day off from work and we set off for Moyo at Spier Wine Estate, just outside Stellenbosch to meet Joseph, a cheetah! I’ve seen a few pics scattered on the web of friends and family who’ve experienced this. It truly is quite incredible and I highly recommend it to anyone who has the opportunity. Half way through my encounter with Joseph he started purring, and I had to double check with the trainer at my side that it was, in fact, purring and not growling because it was loud and intense. Apparently Joseph is quite the superstar, having appeared on the silver screen and on more stages than I have! I’m thinking of featuring his intense purr on one of the tracks on my next album so that I have an excuse to invite him on stage… now that would be rock ‘n roll!

We took a walk around the Outreach facilities at Spier afterwards to meet a few other characters on the premises including Baggins the serval, Malaika the caracal, Ntombi and Moya the black-backed jackals, and two very hyperactive meerkats named Sebastian and Minki. If you’re ever in the area, check out Cheetah Outreach, it’s absolutely well worth the visit.

The Hard Tack

The past month on the road has certainly provided its fair share of entertainment (refer “Tantrum Dance”). Last night I played in Durbanville, hosting my oldest audience member yet, a sprightly young soul boasting 80+ years of life experience, who threw out the most unexpected, classic chirp yet.

At my shows, I carry a silver hipflask by my side. It tends to get a snigger from audiences when I take a swig, and I won’t deny finding it rather amusing how badly everyone wants to know what’s in it. And no, I’m not telling you just yet… Half way through my set last night, I took a good swig from my trusty secret stash, only to hear the lady yell “oh dear, she’s on the hard tack again”, which had me in stitches for a good few minutes before I could carry on. It’s not often that the audience catch me off guard, but when they do, it makes a show that much more memorable.

I’ll be sharing some of my hard tack with audiences around the country over the next month, so keep your eyes peeled for some freebies!

The Tantrum Dance

I’m in the small, out-of-the-way town of Newcastle in northern KZN for two shows this weekend, before heading up to Joburg. When I mention playing shows in Newcastle, I generally get the same surprised response from people, but to be honest, it’s one of the smaller towns in SA that I most look forward to visiting. There’s a music club held once a month at a bar called Melo’s which I played at last night, and this being my second visit, I was prepped and ready for another great night enjoying the company of some great people, doing what I love.

It’s not often that I crumble on stage. In fact, I’m pretty good at hiding my emotions (when necessary) when I’m up there in the bright lights. Last night, however, my cool, calm and collected persona was challenged by what I now refer to as The Tantrum Dance. My music, especially when I’m playing solo, is definitely not of the get-up-and-dance variety, and I have no issues with that. My focus is lyrics, so I prefer people to sit and listen and process what I’m singing, but that’s not to say I don’t appreciate it when someone feels the beat, and last night, someone certainly did.

I admire people who have no inhibitions – those people you find yourself frowning at because they’re the only one on the dance floor, letting themselves go as if no one is watching. It’s refreshing and not something you see very often, unless you live in a small town where true characters abound. From the start of my set, this guy felt every note, so much so that I could see other people in the venue getting a bit uncomfortable, and almost embarrassed. But half way through my set, when I started to play “Oh Boy”, my cool, calm and collected self went out the window. As I started the first chorus, his previously moderate (by comparison), almost expressionistic movements, turned into jumping that I can only describe as a toddler’s tantrum, and that was it for me. I couldn’t keep a straight face anymore and launched into uncontrollable laughter. I have never been so entertained by someone in an audience before and I just couldn’t control myself anymore.

The great thing about this kind of thing happening at a show is that it changes the connection with an audience and relaxes them into a different vibe. When I was called back for an encore, I decided to replay “Oh Boy” because I couldn’t finish it the first time round, but obviously he came back for round two as well. The audience only fully realised on a second listen how suited the lyrics were to the additional entertainment, which made for even more hilarity, and I barely managed to maintain until the end of the song. I don’t know that I will ever be able to play that song again without thinking back to that little out-of-the-way show in Newcastle. Perhaps you had to be there.

Believe

I write honest music, generally about my personal experiences in this world and appreciate what that means to an audience. It has been incredible to have audiences share their stories with me when they’ve heard their truth in mine, when the words have sounded like their own. The format of their experience most often differs to mine, but the general emotional experience is the same. The notion of shared human experience is a powerful one, especially when you’re dealing with your own suffering. The idea that you are not alone in that pain is of some comfort and the fact that my music contributes in some way means a lot to me because I often work through my own turmoil through music that moves me, so I appreciate the power that a song holds.

“Believe”, a song I wrote a little over a year ago for my new album, has received the biggest emotional reaction since including it in my solo set. I wrote the song just after I left my day job to do music fulltime, and the song has meant a lot to me on a personal level and plays an important role in inspiring me to keep going. Essentially, it reminds me where I’m coming from, how far I’ve come, where and who I want to be, and to keep believing in the dream, and up until now, it has fundamentally meant the same thing to the audiences who have shared their stories. But on Friday night, these words about courage and belief spoke to a different journey.

I played a fundraiser for a 3 year old who needed R200,000 to get to Austria for medical treatment. His parents have been furiously committed to raising enough funds to help their son, with this last event on Friday night in a long series of efforts by this brave family, and I am thrilled to say they now have enough to get to Austria. At the end of my set I played “Believe” as a small tribute to their courage and strength through this incredible journey, and it was probably the most rewarding, most meaningful moment I’ve had as a songwriter thus far. To me, the song is about believing in and following ones dream, but having managed to find hope for her son’s future, hearing these words about personal power and bravery, his mother wept.

To have a song that spoke to her courage, to the hope that she held onto with such conviction in a journey very different to my own, was an incredibly moving and inspiring moment. I love what I do. I live for it. Sharing my story has been incredible, but it is moments like this that make my songwriters heart smile.

 

(Read more about 3 year old Jason Long’s journey here.)