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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.

For more pics and impressions from the tour, check out either my

Facebook account: https://www.facebook.com/ronan.skillen/

Or Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/didgi_taal/

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Tour Blog

When last did you get the opportunity to travel through 21 different locations, by road, in a van, with a trailer-load of instruments, four band mates on board, playing live music every night.

Neil Sandilands (aka General Abbot, or if you prefer – Bart from 7de Laan) is the catalyst for such an undertaking, bringing his music to the people and allowing us all in on this adventure through South Africa.

I joined the entourage at Route 62 in Oudtshoorn, for a rowdy bunch on a Tuesday night, with thick cut ostrich fillets and klippies & coke fuelling the fire. I’ve just stepped off a multi-day hike in the Baviaanskloof, so the ‘back to reality’ contrast of embarking on this tour is a jolt to the system.

Next day we roll into Graaff-Reinet, where the beautiful John-Rupert Theatre awaits. Acoustically tranquil with an appreciative velvet-clad, quirky audience wanting more and more. Without a doubt though, the lamb shank at the local bistro, takes the cake.

Day by day we’re getting into more extreme territory. It’s colder at night, warmer during the day, and anything just off the N1 highway is a kopfokmazurka of potholes and desperate little dorpies, clinging to remnants of a lifeline. Jagersfontein is particularly bleak, with contaminated diamond mines painting a post apocalyptic scene. Poverty and desperation, amongst the dustbowl town square, the ever present KFC and the towering NG Kerk, leave a dreadful shiver, as we make our way through to Burgersdorp via Fauresmith into Bloemfontein.

By now the band is musically tuned, solid and tight enough, so as to break free from structural narratives and explore the improvisational layers as they appear. Gigs become an epic story book of Sandilands theatrics filled with hopeful absurdity and it takes a lot to ruffle the Frikmeister’s feathers. Spirits are high, everyone’s role is now clearly defined and we are a well oiled machine. Arrive, unload, set up PA, soundcheck, ready to play in less than an hour. Briers steering the ship, Frank on guitar, Schalk on bass, Neil on ukelele, voice and myself, hitting everything I can make a decent sound with.

The legendary Aasvoelklub in Bloemfontein is a grimy, Tarantino steam-punk scene, with a packed room of eager weekenders, enjoying the metaphoric symbolism of Frikkie’s search for ‘Die Goue Graal’, his love of the open Rooigrond and obsession with his Dotti’s tiete. Anything could happen at the Vultureclub in the Freestate… where are we gonna sleep, are we gonna sleep at all, and what on earth are we eating? Jissus Neil !

On to Clarens at Noah’s Cheese, nestled in the foothills of the Maluti mountains. It’s icy and fresh, but beautiful and really far from home now. Good food, new conversation and the choice of music in our Hyundai van is improving as the DJ baton is passed around, hour by hour, Kilometer and pothole by mile.

Hennenman is an actual place just outside Ventersburg. Neither come to mind when I think of a route through SA, and yet here we are. A rum distillery in the middle of nowhere, it’s minus 8 degrees, with a brutal wind and no, we’re definitely not playing outside! Another slice of pizza, another shot of rum, gimme all the layers you’ve got, coz even a third blanket isn’t gonna make this a cozy night’s rest.

Happiness is Hennenman in your rear view mirror, and soon we’re on to Pretoria for a sold out show at Die Blou Hond. Big sound, great atmosphere and temperatures in the plus are a welcome change. Fresh laundry and a day off to rest the bones, a check in at home and a good long sleep, just what we need before we hit Dozi’s in Hartebeespoort, Mbombela and Kaapsehoop on the boarder to the Limpopo. The terrain is more lush now, bird life is plentiful and as we progress further and further north, winter turns to summer. Hoedspruit is positively balmy, we may even break a sweat during the show. There’s a fair amount of game about as well, and the whine of a mozzie in the evening is as oddly unfamiliar as a Kudu crossing your path, post 3am pee under the stars. We’re treated to a luxury night’s rest at the 5 star Kapama Lodge, after which we hit Mookgopong’s Olifant Oasis venue. A tin can with concrete reverb, another truckload of braaivleis and salted caramel cappuccino in a packet.

Another 300ks later and we arrive in Tzaneen, our most northerly destination on the tour. The Fairview hotel, high in the hills, is a lushly luxurious gem, before we head to Dullstroom. I believe this is a lovely little town and a popular tourist destination for people from far and wide. However, all we are subjected to is sleet and fog without even the slightest glimpse of the town or its surroundings. A lovely gig at Sessions Music though with great hospitality, and waking up the next morning, to a cluster of freezing cold objects bobbing on the water in the mist, amusingly turned out to be the first day of the ‘national women’s trout fishing competition’.

Thoroughly space caked, we eventually hit Middelburg and thrash out a bombastic set of music to a heaving crowd of Friday night jollers at the Rustique Boutique Hotel. Wheels up at 8am for a matinée performance at the prestigious Etienne Rousseau Teater in Sasolburg, brings us to a turning point in the tour. It’s our last gig with Schalk, who is needed in the UK for a tour with the Strawbs, so we pop the champagne on stage and celebrate a brotherly moment, loadshedding and all.

A weird night in a slush puppy casino, an early start, dropping our bassist at Joburg airport and a few km’s later, we find ourselves at the wonderfully spirited Loop St venue, for a sold out show in Potchefstroom. Kudu burgers, endless Leffé beer on tap and a highly appreciative audience, are seductive reasons to pull an all nighter, but the long drive of 800kms to Beaufort West is already looming in the wings.

We get there by sunset the next evening and check into the lovely Teri-Lemveli Lodge for a decent night’s rest. The next day has a hazy, cold Karoo atmosphere with a strange sense of accomplishment, slight sadness and euphoria in the air. It’s our last gig before we head home to Cape Town the next morning. We give it one last ‘everything’ and end the evening with whisky and malva pudding. An early start, load the trailer one last time, coffee to go and we’re off home, for real. We did it, and it was wonderful. All of it. Thank you Frank, Briers, Schalk and most of all, Neil for this adventure and musically charged road trip of a lifetime. 21 gigs in 23 days ! One for the books as they say. Also huge thanks to Veronica Kotze for all the admin work in the wings. Your logistic skills and tour planning was spot on.

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The new Ancient Agents album is out. Have a listen. You can get a digital download or order the CD here:

https://ancientagents.bandcamp.com/

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I’ve been working on an album which takes me back to my roots as a didgeridoo player. The album is a collection of 12 compositions, featuring 25 instruments, all of which were played, recorded, produced and conceived by me. Get the album here.

Watch the video E.P.K. here