Kids Who Like To Scrap With Pool Cues In Their Hands

22 August 2008

Desmond and The Tutus/New Loud Rockets

88 Lounge, Norwood, Johannesburg

First up - let's all salute the bouncer with the "High School Musical" t-shirt. It takes a man truly in touch with his masculinity to pull it off, and by god, did this guy pull it off.

It's been a long while since I've been to 88, and I seem to have forgotten just how chic and trendy it was. Not trendy, say, in the way new-rave was for six months last year, but trendy in terms of the people who come here. They are a trend. It's strange. It seems these strapping young men actually want people to know that they spend a lot of time working out. Their girlfriends are all the size of their biceps. Perhaps they enjoy symmetry. The small interior "lounge" area is sweaty and packed with people like sardines in a can. Did I mention the word "sweaty" yet? It'll be used often today.

Let me remind us all of the last time I was here. It was to attend the album launch of The Sick Leaves, and I got a free bottle of water. Does anyone know what happened to that rather cool band? If so let me know. Maybe they got lost in Germany.

Let it be known that Love on Rollerskates were the opening act. The opening act that I missed. End.

I do, through the masses and vintage wallpaper, manage to see Cape Town's New Loud Rockets as they burst into flames before us. Channeling early 00s New York nostalgia, and combining the swagger and charm of The Strokes and The Walkmen, NLR stuck to the dress sense of those heady days too. All of this made for a band I'd like to take home. Musically, I mean.

They crafted tight, hooky songs, filling the gaps between leads and words with a clever, sneakily funky riff or fill that made me smile. Although I doubt anyone would class them as originals or mavericks (and neither were most of the nu-indie scene NLR emulate), NLR were polished and accessible and smart enough to stand up and sound like the music we all like to hear. Also, the bassist was rocking the Richie Tenenbaum look, and the band sported very healthy facial hair (apart from the lead guitarist, who is probably in Business Management Sciences, or something).




Cries of "Rockets! Rockets! Rockets!" filled their final moments on the stage (the old, disused chant of "New Loud Rockets! New Loud Rockets! New Loud Rockets!" was retired due to audience-fatigue). I was sad to see them leave, and later would be even sadder on my way home as I forgot to buy their EP.

Retiring to the outdoor tented area... thing, I manage to breath in some natural (and comfortingly polluted) Joburg air. This is a mistake. Making my way back to a decent vantage point to see Desmond is impossible. People are standing on ottomans and dancing is now a contact sport. Having seen Desmond perform three times in about a month, I feel I've exhausted all my opinions of them. I did make a mental note of trying to warn children of the dangers of the "German Modern" dance. The loss of an eye is no laughing matter, folks.

Scanning, as I do ever so well from the back of a gig, I do see a young gentleman wearing a beret, and one wearing (with no sense of irony) a modern football t-shirt. I thought both people were rather strange and possibly stupid. Also, while scanning, a girl, after pinching me, asked me write about something. She told me this something rather emotionally and begged me to include her heart-wrentching story. I didn't have the guts to tell her that I couldn't here a word she was saying. I apologise, but feel free to comment and tell us of the injustice here.

Finally, in this place of sweat and biceps, played Richard III. While most seemed rather disinterested after the Desmond gig, those who stuck around got some Bloc Party remixes, that further emphasised the night of nostalgia that seemed to cloak us all. I didn't mind though, sometimes hearing songs you used to love with people who loved them once is a nice way to spend the evening.