Neil Sandilands – Land & Sand Winter Tour 2024

And just like that, it’s all over. The bubble has burst and you’ve slipped back into ‘normal’ life. I guess the question is: what is normal or, rather, why would going on a 40-day tour be in any way abnormal? Being a musician means that going on the road is inevitable, and yet after 10 shows in a row, you realise you’re on a different playing field. There’s a certain level of camaraderie, social skills, circumstantial adaptation and respect that needs to co-exist for a collaboration like this to translate authentically. 

Having Neil Sandilands as the catalyst for what he called the Land & Sand Winter Tour was a promising start. Throw in Frank Freeman (guitar), Schalk Joubert (bass), Briers Coetzee (sound), Stefan Hurter (videography) and myself (percussion), and soon enough, we realised we had the dream team, officially known as Neil Sandilands & die Haaspille (don’t ask).

This time, our trusty Hyundai Staria took us on a 7 836km road trip right through, around and back again to some of the most remote parts of South Africa. From Paarl to Okiep, through Kanoneiland into the Limpopo, via Secunda and Potchefstroom, into Polokwane and Gqeberha, we covered every dorpie we could entertain in and met some pretty eccentric characters along the way. 

As the token Irishman in the band, I’ve always had the advantage (and disadvantage) of being on the outside looking in. And even though my understanding of Afrikaans is pretty good, being the Engels speaker means there were subtle layers of vernacular that were more of an observation rather than an interaction. Thankfully the music itself translated wherever we ended up playing, and the subtleties of our individual personalities became self-evident as a collective sound offering. Some people we played for had never heard anything like it in their lives; others came to the show last year and needed more; a few were indifferent.

The stories Neil told and the way we developed these as a band depended on the number of gigs we’d played, who had said what in the van on the way to the show, what sort of acoustics we were dealing with, whether or not any of us had had enough sleep, whether we were getting enough vitamins, not to mention the dry, high-altitude chill that crept into our bones. The gigs and days of the week became a blur, and yet noticeable changes were taking shape in the music and the ever-tightening of the band increased the possibility of taking more risks, trying new grooves and fancy chords or switching up arrangements. This relentless offering, travelling and being around the same people, and playing the same music night after night was an opportunity to zoom out and observe that what we were doing was precisely what we should have been doing, since it’s what we all live for and are best at in the end – and yet this bubble we were creating was as sacred as it was fragile. The Tau of Frikkie had cemented itself into the narrative of the show quite naturally and thankfully, Frik himself changed it up enough so that we didn’t have to laugh at the same jokes too often. By the time we’d hit the balmy Limpopo, we were in desperate need of clean laundry, a good soak in an arnica-laced bath and a chilled night around a fire. Recalibrate, check in with loved ones, stock up on Camel filters (for Frik), Berocca (for Frank), coffee (for Schalk), Golden Virginia (for Stef), vapes (for Briewis) and magnesium (for me), then sleep and sleep some more. 

On we went, back into colder territory, packing and unloading the trailer once more, setting up the PA, monitors, run cables, lights and smoke machine. Soundcheck, duff-kah, yes, thank you. Good evening, Potchefstroom – gig 28 of 36. One, two, three, four, and before you knew it, it was the last chorus of the second encore. One more down, seven to go. 

The end was now in sight and everyone had mixed feelings about reintegrating into their lives back home. Our Hyundai Staria looked surprisingly inviting from the outside, though the inside had a kind of caged farm animal funk about it. Communication en route had degraded from carefully considered expressions to abusive grunts and insulting splutters, not to mention the fact that we were all looking a little frayed at the edges. Farts were now more acceptable than burps, and there was nothing more welcoming than noise-cancelling headphones and real coffee. We eventually tumbled into the Alma Cafe in Cape Town for one final hurrah. It was gig 36 of 36 – day 40 of this epic tour. There was a feeling of finality, accomplishment and brotherhood, knowing that we’d come through this successfully, without a hitch and that we were all still friends. As the last notes rang out and everyone exchanged a last heartfelt embrace, I was already heading to the airport to fly back to Dublin – tired but happy, full of gratitude and inspiring memories. A little note of gratitude to each Haaspilletjie:

Kaptein Briewis, the unwavering dedication you bring to the mix (literally) is a delight to witness. Every gig felt better than the last, knowing that you were steering the ship and making us sound good. Thanks for packing that trailer like a boss every night and defending your territory with pride. Mawashigeri in your face!

Stef, it’s hard to believe how much of a workload you burdened yourself with. Not only did you capture our day-by-day touring schedule with awesome pics and brilliant footage, but your lighting skills, willingness to lend a hand with the general schlep of gear and the ease with which you manned that merchandise table was tremendous. The Dude abides…

Frank, your swag and stage presence is as in the pocket as your sense of tone and feel. Thanks for always being up for a new musical challenge and tightening the spaces between my beats in order to find that sweet spot. 

Schalk, your commitment to holding your own while always focusing on the bigger picture of the entire production value is commendable. Your fierce wit and imagination with the music made every gig a unique experience.

Neil, commitment, integrity and openness are a strong combination. Your dedication to our collective adventure, attention to detail and the huge risks you were willing to take in order to stage this tour are utterly staggering. Thank you for putting up with all the madness and never veering off course. Long may the Tau of Frikkie resound.

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