bios

It’s like the fucking ’90s in here, you can smoke anywhere. In the bar, outside, and I fucking love it. Fuck you vapers.

The place is full of Gen Zs, yet the kind of Gen Zs that you know are cool, because they appreciate a grungy dive bar that plays good fucking music, and hosts fucking amazing live acts. If I had to go to college in this town, I’d be here every night.

It’s late, and the place is full, but no one is on the dance floor, per se. As soon as Moskitos start, droves and droves of people aged between twenty and, I suspect, forty, spiral onto the dance floor. The pit area is full. Moskitos rock out frenetic.

Dressed like vampires and looking darn sexy at it, Moskitos have a high-octane energy that kinda reminds me of The Hives. They move around the stage simultaneously gazelles and weasels who’ve ingested SS Trooper WW2 quality speed. It’s fun to behold and gets everyone in the crowd going. The energy, in a nutshell, is infectious.

I walk up to the barman and say, “I’m Lloyd, the writer,” And he’s like, “Oh, the tab, what do you want?” I haven’t felt this cool in years.

There’s a punk with red Bart Simpson-esque hair, and many stylish indie-adjacent hipsters, well-dressed young “jocks”. The crowd is white-coded diverse. On my left is a man with a majestic beard, who’s probably a millennial like me. On my right, this couple. One of their costumes is a really average angel wings, but she makes up for it with her down-to-earth demeanour. A young photographer instructs them how to pose. He’s good, but Thunda.com really has improved over the years, lolzies.

Tori and James from Yndian Mynah, bonding, as we come back from spending some time in the car. The streets of Stellenbosch feel way more safe than Long Street or any other place in the CBD. Me limping back to Bohemia. I’m not even sure who’s playing right now.

I’ve never seen Sihle, who rocks in Runaway Nuns, play in Tough Guy before, but holy shit. Wow. Fucking PUNK/POST PUNK RIFFF bombs, being dropped on a HEAVING pit, I wish I could join in on, but I know I’d probably snap my tendons and ligaments in my poepknee.

Jesus.

The time is twenty-one thirty-four. Military time because I feel like saying it that way.

From the Bohemia balcony up top, Tori, armed with her 650D, snaps photos for me to sift through. The dance floor is all but cleared out. People still prefer having those smokes outside. But Darc is about to take the stage and rip the pit a brand new anus.

Every member of the band is sporting… what is that? Curtain bangs? Is it a Zooey Deschanel wig?

The lead singer, Sabina, is the only one who looks like a certified belter in her wig, I mean besides Josh, who, in vintage leather jacket, looks positively delish. I’m fucking amped to bask in their set. I’m fucking mentally HARD.

DARC absolutely delivers, or better yet, they SERVE: tight AF, driving post-punk/punk, distortion guitar heavy sounds that have the whole pit moving, waves of attendees moshing, headbanging like a sea of angst laden people. Queen Sabina owns every inch of the stage and every inch of her sexy visage.

Tori now referring to her as Mommy Sabina. Her vocals cut through the heavy riffs that Josh fingers into his guitar, perfectly while the rest of band locks in behind her, including Dolf slamming his drums with pure rage, albeit well timed, precision driven. It’s pure controlled chaos in the best way possible.

Low-key, I’ve always had a celebrity crush on Sabina. Yeah, I’m saying that out loud. It’s facts, like we Coloured people say, kasam.

Somehow I end up having a nice chat with Sabina about the film industry and a mutual friend. Here, I think I might have admitted my crush to her, even though this is the first time I’ve met her face to face. And I tell her that I’m really proud of her for being in a band. She tells me she’s been in a band before, years ago, and I say, “Oh, I didn’t know.” I know. I know. Pathetic. I’m pathetic.

Tori and I vreet a giant pizza while listening to the post-rock hypnotism that is James, Johnny & Keenan aka Yndian Mynah. On the way out, we try to settle our tab, but fail. We head all the way to Milnerton, Tori doing carpool karaoke to emo core music, while our ranch sauce drips all over her back seat, forming little patches on her upholstery.

VAAIBS (IMMACULATE) : 10/10

Daniel & Tim: 10/10

---