Metal 4 Africa - Klein Libertas Theatre

Posted 2007-10-16 @ 01:11:04 In articles > reviews

A gonzo account of a debauched haze of suedo hatred and lust.

Two buses, entrance fee covered to the prestigious Metal gig at Klein Libertas. All organized by Metal 4 Africa, the event showcased the talents of several Metal Bands, some new and some walking around on Zimmer frames. The potent line-up included the likes of Mind Assault, Contrast the Water, Azrail, Infanteria, Horror Cast, Day Turns Night and Marching Dead.You can skip to the band Review below, but read on if you wish to laugh yourself into another similar yet estranged dimension.

The Bus

Fuck, the bus, what a gas. We got that wrong to start. We were supposed to meet the bus at the Pick & Pay center in Obs. We all decided to wait at the back, until Troys jungle-like instinct lead us around the corner to where Navin was standing aside a vast mechanical elephant, ticking off the names of the intermittent arrivals, on a little clip board he called ’the Elf Warrior’.

He assured us that, despite our (smoker folk) most dire fears, we would not be forced to eat our burning cigarettes should we light up during the journey. I think most were relieved, since most had the fear that a wookie would cast spells on us should we both: not put bricks under our beds, and smoke on the bus. Being my first metal bus trip, I only had a third person perspective and no reason to know what to expect. My surprise was manifold when the first Ozzy-Sabbath track flared up on the overhead speakers. There was something to this ordinary circumstance, something evil that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. There was mayhem afoot, this weary gonzo journalist was certain of it.

Already through our first few beers, the beginning prescribed dose of KGB pills, and a barrage of ciggies, we arrived at the first stop, N1 city. Outside I could just make out the name of a church: ’His People Christian Church’, ironic, since I planned to burn it, and there happened to be a youngster vomiting rampantly just under my window, before entering the now bustling bus. I declared right there, my love for Ainz’s Stroh rum & coke concoction. Wallace of ’Toyland’ fame stepped on to the bus, through the now-billowing weed smoke clouds.

We stopped once more, to exchange some occupants between the two buses. Ant thought the new additions were like sperm, and the bus was like a giant cervix. He asked Troy if he’d like to make slow, passionate, candle-lit love to the bus, to which Troy retorted: ’Ant loves it when guys jiz up against his palette!’. Ant developed the sudden urge for a chicken cordon blueu. I noticed some young succulent girls cat-fighting over which bus they should got to, they seemed to arrive at some conclusion when I had the vision of me, cradled in their laps, gleefully drawing mothers milk from their fertile teats.

I handed my loyal dictaphone to Ainz & Fred, in the hopes that they would create a healthy dialogue, instead, they complained about the beating sun rays. Fred condoned the bus-music, saying it was old-school trash metal, an all round good vibe, Ainz bitched about the unsettling egg-shape of Wallace’s head. I turned to Ant who was mumbling something about dying of rigormortus. He jolted upright, a random memory of the last bus trip scrounging for the forefront of his mind, he continued: ’last time, Andy was handing out year-old stage magazines, posed as prizes. I won a CD, but I think I’ve since sold it to cash-crusaders’. I happen to meet eyes with Fredrico Campus, he has the most stoned eyes I’ve seen since Bob Marley clumsily slipped on a stray banana peel and swallowed his whole months stash, he smirks a gormless grin, pulls a joint from behind his ear and sparks it up.




Navin seems to be giving away a Subterrania CD. Ant muses that he would like to track down Nick Nolte, strip him naked, and rub his leathery skin against his cock. We had a version of the Pillsbury doughboy / Paul from Spin City boy sitting with us, on invitation from Ant. He seemed just happy to be part of the crowd, as we judged from his squashed-up maniacal facial expression. He shared the identical attire as our own Fred, by coincidence alone. Fred, by the way, vividly resembled Dr Gonzo from Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, ’one toke over the line!’, he was heard to exclaim.

Troy remarked that this could all be a ploy to rid Cape Town of all its metal heads, lead them to a gas chamber, which made strange sense, since the two busses probably contained most of them. The vehicle then stopped again to let some guys take a piss in the N1 freeway-flanked brushes. A girl with a prurient facial expression passed around the mailing list.

Unusually ruckus, as busses are generally not, it took off, metal people only warming up their greasy engines. Navin is strolling up and down, something haunting him as he utters various offensive chirps to the passengers. something about donating a tattoo voucher of R300 Rand to someone who does something crazy, clearly a prize of such value would warrant a rather heinous act from some disturbed individual. immediately, guys are offering to piss out of the moving bus window, but Navin’s sense of insanity is too acute, he declines, and makes an offer: the one who pulls their pants to their knees, jockeys included, and struts directly through the Klein Libertas entrance. One sheepish guy gets bombarded by third party acceptances from his friends on his bewildered behalf, and gingerly shrugs off the burden out of weakness.

We drove in multiple circular motions around the back streets of Stellenbosch. Ant derived some pleasure from plucking the hairs from the back of Pillsbury doughboys unknowing head. I got blissful waves of relief down my spine, upon tossing a few empty beer cans out the window before we got off the bus at Klein Libertas.

We made vocal contact with Etienne, former ‘Mind the Child’ bassist, on the way in to the area outside the venue. He thought our nice Stroh rum mixture tasted like a warm pussy, oh how he had regressed from the power-chord hitting savage He once was. We distributed beers amongst ourselves while the gathering of biker Goths around the entrance dispersed.

The Entrance

Now we were outside the entrance. Many metal biker types from all surrounding Afrikaans backgrounds and bearing Megadeth shirts were buzzing here like a bees-nest. I found a young bitch named Tanya, who had a lot of nasty things to say about the emo sect of youth-culture, mainly that they shouldn’t wear Lamb-of-God T-shirts. Ant and myself had in our possession, a left-over mini cooler bag, formerly our beer bag, which we used as a rather effective rugby ball, place kicking it violently and randomly into people, one of which was a stunned and unsettled Pillsbury dough boy.

We stumbled drunkenly into Friendly but evil Patrick of ’Mind Assault’ fame (he actually had a key role in organizing the whole event), who inadvertently agreed to give us access to all areas (Ant waved around his ’press card’ again). He seemed pleased that we were gonna do an article, hell, it’s mutually beneficial publicity.

As we waited, Ant asked some guy for his beer, who gullibly surrendered it, so Ant punted it into the crowd, splashing all with sticky beer. We ran into Jacques, lead vocalist/growler of ’Mind Assault’ fame. He looked healthy and ready for the upcoming metal-frenzy ahead. He was stroking his vocal chords while in a native-American Indian trance like state. He raised two beers to his mouth, then pushed us all over in a random rugby scrum. He then informed us that the first band would commence action at 5:15pm, while Mind Assault would go on later at about 9:20pm. Jacques agreed that he was so excited that his dick was hard, Ainz wasn’t nearby to get the photo.

I turned amidst the weed smoke and drunken slurs, to find the sheep boy sucking up his pride, releasing his trousers from their belted constraints, and striding bravely (or stupidly) in through the entrance, his willy a free entity in the flowing breeze. I considered the ridiculousness of this, and silently congratulated his complete lack of dignity, before strutting on through myself, accompanied by the Alteye team, all with our own forbidden booze in hand (oh the power of the press!).

I was glad to see Andy controlling the front doors. His influence is usually beneficiary to such occasions. He claimed, however, that he didn’t have a key role in the organising of this particular event, that it was all Patrick and Navin whom the honour was due.


the long haul Prior to the gruesome metal-fest

Next down the cobbled path was Alwyn, who was taken by surprise at my thrusting a microphone in his face, asking for his words. He muttered that it had been his Birthday the day before, so we gave him an empty promise that we would buy him a drink later. We tried to charge some dude ten bucks to draw a "ten-second-portrait" of him, we did, but he found the R1.00 per second fee too exorbitant to pay. We had a good laugh anyway, so it was fine. The guy complained the sketch made him look like john Lennon. We wander on in search of someone else to con out of ten bucks. We find, a ’David Arquette’ impersonator, no wait, it’s ’My name is Earl’, he seems to acknowledge the outstanding resemblance. but when asked to say something, simply replies "something".

Inside the Bar area I found Wendy of "beauty and the beast couple" fame ( the other one in the couple being Wallace of Toyland ), so drunk already that she was swaying side to side while in an upright sitting position (reminiscent of a hippie swaggering close-eyed to the tune of Janis Joplin 1969 Woodstock vibes). I tried to force feed her some ice water, but she declined sternly, even in her wasted state. Luckily Wallace appeared and I could leave her safe recovery in his capable hands.


Fred found himself enticed away by a table full of long haired reprobates chugging on gunja. A slic looking Durbanite cut in, probing people for a possible section of weed, someone pulled it out, and excited Durban Boy shuffled the bankie in his hands, just because he loved the feel of it. He turned out to be Raymond of ’Contrast the water’ fame. Allen, another member of said band, complained about having been hassled by cops for weed smoking in public, I told him he was talking shit, since in Cape Town, the cops here are all stoned themselves. Navin scuttles by, grabbing a drag on his way past.

We caught ’my name is Earl’ guy, he wishes to add more to his prior statement. He says: "I’d like to retract my previous statement, it uh... didn’t pay full uhh.. credence to this ... prestigious event we are currently attending, and uh... this is a fresh take on the stale old world of SA metal and hopefully we can uh... trust forward to the future and uh.. bulldoze over those McDonalds chains and uhh.. Trance parties and uhh... little hippie kids". Ant asks ’My name is Earl’ guy if he can shove his cock in "my name is Earl" guys nose. He claims that if we put more Stroh rum in his beer he’ll think about it. Yes, Ainz was pouring Stroh rum into our own and other people’s beers. Yes, it was disgusting. Troys take on things: "so far, so good, so drunk".

Etienne of former ’Mind the Child’ fame, claimed that he got kicked out of Mind the Child for being a slut, and now people just randomly call him a slut in the street, and now he just resigns to being a slut, as he can’t find anything else to do, besides being a slut in the sluttish world.

Ainz got Andies number after having lost it many moons ago. I said to Andy: "Andy looks at surprising ease, despite the extreme pressure of holding the entire event on his shoulders", at which he laughed out crazily and replied: "It was actually more Patrick’s event than my event, but at the end of the day we all pulled in together and made a big effort putting the word out and uh... hardly surprising the results uh"...... "speak for themselves!", I finished, to which Andy gave a bellowing cackle. What a Jolly cool dude the And-meister is!

The unexpected, totally improvised interview with Contrast the Water

I find myself chatting with Allen and Raymond again. I don’t know it yet, but they are key members in the Durban Band, ’Contrast the Water’. They are playing a set this evening, and Raymond complains of hunger, I ask him if it’s the lack of Durban Curry in Cape Town. He corrects me, saying that he is hungry for pussy, and to Jam on stage, revealing that he and Allen are in Contrast the Water. "No shit!" is my resounding response. I tell them I have a flyer with their name in it, and I’m just flabbergasted that I’m standing, being spoken to by real celebrities. Raymond asks if I want them to sign my foreskin. I swoon in light headedness, maybe later, I reply. But they were completely willing, so thanks mutha fuckers, I’ll get my penis head engraved by you next time! that would probably be worth bucks in the future.

I discover, Ainz has been demonstrating our ’Doomorgy’ track to them all along, from his little mobile music center cell phone device, Allen says it’s so Doomy. So there you have it, Gritty Metal Bands, ’Contrast the water’ & ’Doomorgy’ have become officially acquainted. Allen Added that In Durban they have a lot of emo shit and hardcore metalcore garbage and, crap you don’t really wanna be bothered with. Maybe like one or two decent Metal Bands. Very modest I would say (nudge nudge). He arbly noted that He really dug some song that someone did about the movie the Shining. I think he was soothingly acknowledging his affection for the little Doom music could recall at the time, just so as not to offend our sensitive tastes.

Ant butted in and I hoisted the dictaphone to his frothing lips. He hacked out some sickened lyrics that froze the walls of hell. Troy exclaimed that he had been shitting blood for weeks, and crapping all his organs out.

Allen’s conveyed a tale about them playing a gig in Joberg. It was Grimfest Productions, they were putting on a metal fest called the summoning at Tempos. C.T.W were invited to play and before going on, were told that Joberg bands don’t dig Durban bands, because Durban so-called produces crap bands. So they go on and get Announced as a Durban band, and no-one cheers for them, so they were all bummed. So they jammed, and just had a jol themselves, and the crowd dug really them, but he shat himself, ’cos it either would go one way or the other. He added that they played at a joint called ’London Calling’, right across from hillbrow, and you can’t get weed anywhere, which is ironic, since Hilbrow the dump doesn’t have weed.

He also told us horror stories of, while in Pietermaritzburg, Mind Assaults Jacques, drank a beer bong that he had pissed his own steaming urine into! In fact, it was them hooking up with Mind assault that lead them to Cape Town, in that they had agreed to gig in each other’s home towns. He then introduced us to Grant, the Bassist.

The Bands

I moved on to the Band area, there wasn’t much going on, so I went out back for a gushing slash, which happened to be under a washing line for Rasta clothes. I pondered that the approaching Rasta man can’t be too perturbed because he is a Rasta, and he probably doesn’t know what’s going on, being a stupid Rasta.

Music was Rampant, Hot chicks all around. The stunning Candice, who I had met earlier on the train, was there, enthusiastically soaking up the approaching band vibes, as she had for mentioned previously. Probably unnoticed by her at the time, I was more distracted by her flaming beauty than interested in the bands, and becoming notably drunk by this time, was stammering on about sweet fuck all for an unmeasured amount of time. I vaguely recall, at some stage in the night, I tried to give her a shoulder massage, but was sternly denied, I was too sloshed to think up a more cunning way to get closer.

As more hardcore metal heads poured in from outside origins, a jack Black Impersonator strolled casually past me, Although he had nothing to do with Jack Black except that he looked exactly like him, personality not intact. By this stage I was muttering and could not even make sense of my own inebriated rambling. I seemed to suggest to passer-byers that I’d had sex with them.

Marching Dead was setting up. Ainz passed by and mentioned that he had forced Alwyn off of a skate board once when they were young. Alwyn appeared unexpectedly from the lesser known shadows and added that Ainz had had a jock-bob haircut at the time, and that he had actually arllied right over Ainz. Such hazed and random antics seemed more abundant as the evening continued on.

Then the worst happened, my dictophone ran out of memory. that was the end of coherent notes taken of general happenings. The strange thing though, is I couldn’t really take any notice, since I seem to recall feeling the alcohol pushing me out into the street and manoeuvring into the driver’s seat of my body. Still, I struggle to recollect the following sequence of motion thereafter. I don’t know whom I spoke to, I’m not sure what I did.

Some time elapsed, how much was unclear, and then there I was, in the head of this booze-crazed body. I could watch out from the eyes for short periods of time. My windows of vision didn’t seem to last very long, because I remember the rest of the night in loose fragments, much like having a jigsaw puzzle of it strewn on the floor. the booze-body lumbered around, from scene to scene. I could not steer it. It had a mind of its own. It spent some time in the back stage area. I seem to remember Ants body, also possessed by an even more powerful drink-demon, teasing me off to various little rooms behind the restricted back-stage area. I think we got up to some mischief. We found our way into one of the little band rooms, full of band equipment. there were the odd members of bands and groupies alike bouncing in and out of the room, we just sat there, arrogant that we were not band members yet were still there. I don’t even think we were allowed. We just stayed, glowing with ignorant pride. We talked with some of these people too, even chatted as they passed joints around. when others were not there however, we pissed on the band equipment.

We found our way into many little warm social conversations, did our damage and moved on. Then, between my blackouts I remember going to sleep behind some car outside in the car park. the next thing some angelic girl, who appeared much less metal head than most of the days company, was dragging me onto my feet, and leading me inside to the bar, to get me some cold water for my drunkenness. Despite her supreme kindness my booze-monster kicked in and suddenly ordered me a brandy and a Savannah for her (the booze showed compassion?). She managed to con the brandy out of me for the savannah(booze-monsters are also gullible). She was trying to spare me further indignity before she left, but as if an act of Satan himself, right across from me stood a dude with a beer bong. Dutifully my demon poured my savannah straight in. Then another blackout.

Meanwhile, somewhere on the other side of things, Ant was manipulating a very small Indian peace-pipe into some stranger’s mouth. The guy and his alarmed girlfriend swatted him off, greatly perturbed by his sheer audacity. He later, also suffering from intermittent lapses in cognition, found himself being invited onto the stage to judge a tit flashing contest. Overwhelmed by the encircling chaos of cheering drunks, He lurched forward, poised with his notebook and fell over backwards, pencil still in hand.

Some time later, I woke again, and slowly my surroundings phased back into order. I was sitting peacefully by a raging fireplace. To my horror, there was Troy, yanking my arm and urging me to go with him, I gathered what was left of myself and followed him. As reality rushed into my head (I finally had control back), I found many missed-calls on my cell phone. Ant and Troy had been trying to get hold of me for hours, I had kept the whole bus waiting.

The bus started up. Somehow Fred, Ainz, Troy and most surprising, Ant had made it back onto the bus all in good time. I was the only straggler. I was still drunk, and lying defeated across a seat. Ant scooted me over to one side, so he could sit beside me. Then, somewhere along the N1, He reached into someone’s cooler box, pulled out an empty booze bottle, and handed it to me. He whispered to me quietly, instructing me to rid us of its presence out the window. His demon was still very much firmly dominant over his will, and I, in my weakened condition, obliged. I shivered when the bottle smashed on the road beside the fast moving bus. Then another one was nudged into my hands sternly with intention implied. I tossed it out, I couldn’t resist anything at this point, my will was broken. Then a third bottle ensued. I felt a quiet thrill at the sound of smashing glass.

The bus stopped. A coloured guy stepped on, claiming to be an off-duty cop. He had his pregnant wife in the car and one of the stray bottles had narrowly missed them. He was upset. He tried to ascertain who the culprit was but no-one pointed me out, or rather no-one knew who’d done it. We left once the cop had let off some steam at the bus occupants in general.

Our’s was the last stop. Observatory. We were left at the Pick & Pay center where Fred’s car was parked. We found it wheel-clamped. We made a fuss at the security but they stood fast long enough for Troy to Valiantly Pay the 100 buck release fee. We continued on to Steers, amazingly we each still were wealthy enough to buy burgers. Once Ant was finished his. He bought an ice-cream. Still under the manipulation of the alcohol he tossed up a big scene. I pointed out this guy opposite us who resembled an old school acquaintance, who was always the butt of the general adolescent cruelty. This guy looked so much like old Manfred Sommers, that my overflowing passion inspired Ant to badger the guy about it annoyingly. He smeared ice-cream all over the guy, himself, and the counter, staggered around in circles taunting and spitting at the embarrassed onlookers. Then we went home.

Since in my debauched, retarded state I didn’t catch any of the bands playing or the Mosh Pit Frenzy, you can read Troys band reviews for the low-down and dirty!

Some disturbing facts about the event

  •  A couple were seen fucking each other under the outside stage structure
  •  5 people were hospitalised from accidents at the party
  •  One chick broke her leg
  •  Some dude broke his nose in the mosh pit
  •  Another chick fell back and cracked her head on something hard
  •  The mosh pit caused much bruising all around
  •  There were about 700 people at the gig
  •  The bus didn’t stop at the Starlight Diner on the way back so Navin’s friends had to drive the applicable people home.

Last words

All in all, despite the few tragic occurrences, the gig was a complete fuck-off success. We at Alteye would officially Like to extend our personal thank-yous to Patrick, Navin, Andy, all at Metal 4 Africa and those Metal lovers who were involved in pulling that shit together, it was A hot party. Thanks for putting up with our personal transgressions of normally accepted behaviour. We salute you!

Part 2: The Band Review By Troy

Infanteria were the first band to play. These youngsters looked as though they belonged at a school social fortunately, their music was of a better standard than that. They played old school thrash fast and furious (the way it should be) and their blond singer even sounded like a young Hetfield. To keep things modern I guess there was also a growling backing, on guitar, adding the odd verse.

At first the crowd kept their distance, as they often do when with opening act, but eventually Infanteria won them over proving that they may well become something of a force in SA metal provided they inject more originality.

Next up were Marching Dead their Black Metal Core honestly didn’t do much for me but they seemed to have a good following and managed to get a most pit fired up straight off the bat. The drummer was good and the vocalist’s shrill screech sounded evil although he broke the mood by asking the crowd for beer in-between songs. The musicianship was good although the songs didn’t do much for me. I am defiantly the wrong person to review them as I know next to nothing about Black Metal but they did get the crowd rocking and that’s a good thing.

Fucking Hell! Contrast the Water rolled on stage like bulldozer. These Durban boys play brutish metal that thunders along slow and heavy – at least for the first few numbers. The crowd stood for one or two numbers before the battery of sound got heads hanging, fist raised and bodies slamming into each other.

Contrast’s vocalist has a full and furious raw to match his luminous contact lenses and spiked arm guards that made him look like he just emerged from hell’s pit. Raymond, the drummer, is a fucking machine capable of many styles who had jaws dropping all over the place. Although good musician ship certainly racked up some points for Contrast the Water it was their songs and originality that got me thinking they were the best act of the evening.
Next up, at least I think it was next as the beer was taking its toll by that stage, was Mind Assault. What I like about Mind Assault (other than their music) is the fact that these guys like the metal lifestyle to the bone, which explains the titty show and dick flashing before they even play their first note.

They open with Magdaloss which sounded as brutal as ever. The band seems to have grown tighter since the last time I saw them partly thanks I’m sure to their new drummer who can double bass like a demon.

Mind Assault are good at what they do, fucking good actually, the only chink in their armour is that they could be more original. True, Mind Assault do have original aspects and can swap styles like few others but it is still in finding their own style that they fall a little short. They have good songs, musicianship and stage presence but at times I found myself thinking that this is how Machine Head would sound if they played Death Metal. Mind Assault have what it takes to make it beyond SA’s borders but to do that they would have to give us something different from anything we’ve ever heard before. Can they do that? I believe they can.

From Left: Fred, Ainz, Ant. Front: Phil. In Absentia: Troy.

Tags . contrast the water



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