You get two kinds of guitars - electric and ?

You get two kinds of guitars - electric and ?

14 March 2024

I absolutely adore kids. And not just my own.

 

There is just something so completely and utterly magical about little people, that I cannot help but be drawn to them and love them. In addition, I’m not selective of their ages. Babies, toddlers, small kids, bigger kids, and even those grumpy and attitude-filled teenagers. I simply always find a way to connect with them, draw them in and have a conversation with them. I think it’s about gaging where they’re at in their growing-up journey, tapping into that and embracing what’s currently happening to them. I can chat to even the most off-the-wall hyperactive kid, shy little dreamers, as well as sully teenagers. They would of course never admit it, but they actually like to be heard and to feel as though their opinion counts. It’s easy to draw them out. Especially if you use their lingo (but not overly so, nothing more cringe than an adult trying to say sick things, like sick), appear to be indifferent and don’t make too much eye contact. That’s with the teenagers of course. Little kids want your full on attention focused on them.

 

But without a doubt, one of the greatest gifts of children (spanning the whole variety of ages), is their take on life. The way they see and perceive the world around them. Their interpretation of so much that we take for granted is disarmingly refreshing. As adults we can become so jaded and often words, sayings and experiences lose their impact. We become numb to it. It’s just part of life. Been there, done that, seen so much. In addition, as adults we don’t questions as many things as we probably should. We just accept. Like why does your nose run, when it can’t do so at all. Its doesn’t have feet. And speaking of feet, how come we have fingertips but not toe tips?

 

Now with little people, everything is a marvel. And the world is a giant place filled with endless opportunities and experiences. Just waiting to be discovered. Just imagine how incredibly exciting that must be? Just close your eyes and ears and imagine discovering something for the first time. It must be incredible!

 

A major upside of little kids and their perception of the world, is the apt way they have of describing things or summarising something that’s happened. Extremely refreshing and usually very funny too. Truly unique.

 

My brother used to live in Joburg for many years, yet he always travelled as a musician. And when he came to the Cape, he used to stay with us. We loved it. He never wanted one of the kids’ rooms. Instead he always opted for the couch as he was a night owl and would enjoy falling asleep with the TV on. So he was always at the centre of our family life.

 

Albert recalls visiting one time, when Amber was about six or seven years old. A touring musician is invariably packing a lot of instruments at any given time. And any visit from Al was no exception. This time, Amber showed particular interest in his numerous guitar cases and asked him to show her what was inside them. He dutifully started off with some of his electric guitars. She appropriately oohed and aahed. Full of knowledge of what they would be used for. After all, she’d seen him performing countless times.

 

And then he opened up and revealed an acoustic guitar. And she bubbled with excitement, eager to show off her knowledge. “Ooooohhh! I know that one. You use it to make Afrikaans music.”

 

Albert was floored and no doubt tickled pink, bursting out with laughter. Funny enough he only told me the story last week and I guffawed too. Such an entertaining description of what acoustic guitars are exclusively used for.

 

I rest my case. Kids are highly entertaining. In addition, I do understand where she was coming from. Her logic was rather appropriate. Though the Afrikaans music genre has grown in leaps and bounds, there is still a large portion of it, which is performed with a, shall we say, “softer” hand.

 

 

 

 

The best thing about Spotify is not even the music

 

The best thing about Spotify is not even the music

7 March 2024

I’ve  been a slow adapter to Spotify. Go figure. Which is actually quite odd. Cause I am really, really passionate about music. Our home is never quiet and there is simply always music playing constantly. Not to mention the never-ending playlist in my head. In addition, any car ride is filled with music, with a big contest as to who gets to play DJ. Solo trips are filled with my fave songs, that I sing to very loudly and animatedly. I’ve even got a bling microphone in the car for this exact purpose and I’m an absolute pro at dancing while sitting and driving. Robots (or traffic lights for you weird foreigners) are my best. Don’t give a hoot who watches. In fact, it merely helps to up my enthusiasm. Like to give the lucky peeps a bit of a show while I’m at it.

 

But I’ve always just gone about it old school. By putting songs in a folder on my phone. How terribly neanderthal of me. Or is it Gen X or Gen Z? I know I’m not a Millennial, or a Baby Boomer. But I’m not actually quite sure which category I fit in? Fine, I was born in 1973. You figure it out. And please let me know.

 

So back to Spotify. Everyone has been raving about it for years! And I get the whole concept. I thought I understood the basics as well as the purpose. I mean it’s pure genius. I just didn’t really get to make a start of it, exploring my way through the plethora of audio pleasures. Who knows why?

 

And then I dove in.

 

Dear. Heavens. Alive!!! It’s absolutely bloody brilliant! Can’t believe I wasted all of that pointless time not embracing it with both arms (jazz hands on occasion), toe tapping enthusiasm and bling microphone waving around excitedly, much earlier. What a blithering eejit!

 

Alas, forgive me. I finally get it now. And boy, do I!!!

 

It’s been pure unadulterated joy diving into my favourite songs. Super quick and easy, with crisp clear quality. And I was all in on liking songs and making the odd Playlist. But I was still a mere novice. Personally remembering a forgotten song or artist, searching for them and then adding them that way. Every so often, I’d remember a long forgotten artist or song that I absolutely loved, only to find that they were not on Spotify at all. Shooketh, I tell you! And then I’d instantly think about why they choose not to have their songs listed. They’re probably getting paid a very, very piddly amount. In which case I truly sympathised with them. Impressed with their dedication to their art and not bowing down to peer pressure, sticking to their guns and all that. But I am always a little bit disappointed and bleak that I can’t listen to their music. However, does this stop me from still listening to Spotify all the time? Hell no! I’m not into self-punishment after all.

 

And then, one fine day, I discovered that Spotify makes artist and song selections for you, based on your recent activity. Oh. Sweet. Mother!!! Unbridled excitement, I tell you! Don’t you just love a good algorithm working it’s manipulative mastery? I mean, I always knew Spotify could and would do this. But I just didn’t really explore it much. Nor experience it. Probably because I really like the music I already love so much. If that makes sense. And not just the old stuff either. I’m constantly adding songs based on music I hear on My Grantie’s playlists, or one of the kids, randomly in a shop, on the radio, or even on the TV. So my music selection was not stagnant. But perhaps it was a bit too consistent and not exploratory enough.

 

But now I’m a full on Spotify groupie! I would say I’m a Spotify slut, but decorum. And so on and so forth. So, Spotify, Bring. It. On.

 

So here’s the surprising thing. Much as I love Spotify, and believe you me, I really, really do, finding new music or even old favourite music is not even my best thing.

 

Want to know what it is?

 

It’s the frigging lyrics!

 

Is my hearing really all that bad? Now Grant has always accused me of slaughtering song lyrics. Most especially in the car when we’re driving together and listening to his Playlists. He even gets quite mean. He’s got a rock-solid embargo and prohibition on microphone wielding while we’re driving together. So cruel! However, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about the jazz hands. I simply refuse to give those babies up. Have I mentioned yet how fun robots are?

 

So I sing loudly, emphatically and super enthusiastically. And I don’t let a little insignificant detail, like not knowing the song lyrics at all, put me off in the slightest. That would be boring. So, I simply make them up on the spot. So much more fun! Hey, I’m actually being creative here! I’ve always thought I’m rather good at this. 

 

Apparently I’m not. Spotify has highlighted this for me with crystal clear clarity. Neon flashing signs and all. To be fair, I find it extremely funny and absolutely hilarious how badly I've been getting lyrics wrong. And for how long I've been doing it. It's a skill!

 

Jeez, probably half of my favourite songs have been butchered by me over the years. Moreover, you know what the implication of this is, right? I clearly don’t know the actual meaning or significance behind so many songs.

 

It’s been a cruel awakening. So I’ve done the next best, most obvious thing. I intentionally and with great deliberation ignore the song lyrics. Why be normal if you can rather be creative?

 

In all seriousness, thanks so much Daniel Ek and Martin Lorentzon as well as the rest of the gang at Spotify. You’ve made the world an infinitely more beautiful and colourful place. And I’m so grateful for your weird computer geek genius.

 

Now bloody pay the artists more! I have been humming Michelle Shocked in my head for days, and I can’t find it anywhere.

 

My Amber-Berry is delightfully indulgent. And only mildly critical of my song lyrics.

Driving back from hockey matches in Stellenbosch a few years ago. Amber dutifully coached all of us on the correct lyrics for this song. Still delight in singing it with the exact words.

I'm Lombard-less

I'm Lombard-less
2 September 2014

I had the oddest sensation this past weekend.  As if I was set adrift across a vast ocean.

I was completely and utterly Lombard-less.  Please note that this is not to be confused with being leg-less (leg-less involves large scale consumption of alcohol).  Though I do believe that occasionally the two can collide and mesh.  Forming a marvellous whole.

Anyway, back to being Lombard-less.  This is a foreign experience.  Anew to me.

And I can kind of equate being Lombard-less with being rudderless.  Cast away.  Aimlessly floating.  No clear destination in sight.

Cause here’s the thing – the entire Lombard clan (barring a handful of us), went away together.  To an in-house, family-organised music festival.

The bloody bastards!!!  I have decided to scrap them all from my Christmas card list (This is not the time for modesty – my Xmas cards are pretty spectacular.).  But a lucky few will be excluded from the Christmas card freeze - Adam in Bangkok.  Maria, Gareth and Nicole in Joburg.  As well as my geriatric grandparents.  They are forgiven.  But as for the rest?  Hah!  They’re toast!

My uncle Dan, and my mom, Maggie, are the master minds behind an annual music festival held just outside George, at a marvellous venue called Far Hills.  Guests are per invitation only.  Bands are hand selected (dipping largely into the family music base).  And the entire atmosphere is apparently magical.  Special.  Unique.  Phenomenal.  Incredible!  Or so they say…

You know how you get little Garagista boutique wineries?  Well, this is kind of the same thing.  A home-grown, boutique style music festival.  Without the fancy schmancy.  No corporate sponsors.  No bright lights and big wow-wow.  Just real music.  Played really well.  By really good musicians.

What’s not to love?

A lot I tell you!!!  Because I bloody well wasn’t there.

Everyone had a ball.  Thoroughly enjoyed themselves.  It was chilled.  Relaxed.  Entertaining.  Sublime. 

That old evil, “work”, raised its ugly head and prevented me and my family from going.  Alas, such is life.  One can’t do everything all of the time.  And I often think of my sister who missed many family events while they were living in the UK.

In total they had about 250 peeps at the weekend long gig.  Most festive by all accounts.

I was very touched by everyone expressing their disappointment that we wouldn’t be there.  And I got the occasional, “We’re missing” you message during the weekend.  Their photos made me smile and really happy for them (still not bumping them back on my Xmas card list).

And though I had wanted to be there very badly, I told them all, I’d do the next best thing in their honour.  To show solidarity for their great event, as a measure of my support, and my missed opportunity.

I’d sulk the whole weekend.  In commiseration with myself.

Alas, it didn’t work.  I don’t do sulking. 

Even though I don’t see my family all the time, many of them live really close.  And all of them are just a phone call away.  Knowing they were all together, congregated in one place, having an absolute blast, was bittersweet. 

And I’ve realised - us not being there, was not really their fault (well, it would be rather sad if they didn’t get a card this year).  It was all me.

Next year.  I promise.  Next year.  Oupa and Ouma will just have to be all Lombard-less on their own.

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The Lombard siblings are fondly knows as The Big Five. A sighting of them grouped together is very special indeed. Every single time they're all together, we do photos. From left to right, Willem, Bettie, Dan, Maggie and Jac. Love them all!

Albert giving it stick

 

At a glance, I spot 8 Lombards in this pic. But there could be more.

Yet another Lombard-filled pic. In fact, I swear I spot my grandfather at the back. And I know he wasn't even there!

I don't like to brag, but I can time travel

I don't like to brag, but I can time travel
11 August 2014

It is a little known fact that I am actually a superhero.  Seriously!

Though when I’m strict and all mom-ish, my kids tend to think I’m a superzero. 

What do they know, right?

However, back to my powers.  I could’ve been all conventional, and done something arb like invisibility.  A really neat trick.  And one I would’ve enjoyed quite a lot.  But it’s a bit obvious you know.  Too regular.  Almost conformist and expected.

For a while I toyed with superhuman strength.  But then I thought to myself, it would be a bit wasted.  I lift Jumping Castles for a living.  And I manage perfectly fine, without having to tap into superhuman strength.  It would be a bit of a waste. 

Flying tickled me for quite a while.  Particularly, if the ability to fly called for a dashing cape.  Cause I really think I could’ve pulled a cape off quite well.  In fact, I think it would’ve been pretty swanky.  But let’s be honest – flying superhero.  It’s been done way too often.  It’s a bit overplayed.  So hum-drum and boring.  Not exciting at all.

I’d need something unique.  Something out of the ordinary.  Something so very Helene.

And then it came to me – Time Travel!!!

It’s bloody marvellous!  What a gift!  Spiderman, Batman and Superman – eat your hearts out.  You can keep your capes, and your webs.  Your bat-mobile (actually I fancy that bat-mobile quite a lot), and your Clark Kent glasses (I’ve got my own pair).  Time travel is way cooler!!!  In fact, it’s da bomb!

So here’s how it works.  Every superhero has that moment when they transform, from ordinary, to extraordinary.  Bruce Wayne heads for his cave and disrobes, before changing into his black suit (he’s clearly the hottest superhero of them all), and emerging as Batman.  Peter Parker, disappears for a mo, before returning bedecked and be-cloaked, in his Spiderman regalia (personally he’s a bit boy-ish and young for me).  Clark Kent on the other hand, just dives into a phone booth or something similar, ditching his glasses and dorky hairstyle, before practically flying out as Superman (he’s just not my type).

But as for me?  No lengthy costume changes, or frantically searching for a phone booth.  No neatly still folding up my regular clothes, before slipping into my superhero gear.  No carefully first putting my spectacles in a case, so that they don’t get all scratched.  No faffing with hair gel, so my hair looks just right.  No tying of cape ends and lacing up red and blue superhero boots.

Actually, to be fair, no real faffing at all.

In order to facilitate my transformation from just Plain-Old-Regular Helene, to Time-Travel-Helene, I simply put on some music.

I swear!  That’s all I need to do.  It’s absolutely amazing!

A bit of Supertramp, takes me back to being about eight years old.  Having a braai with the folks - my brother, sister and I playing.  And my parents playing darts.  Awesome times.

Any Beatles song, takes me back to my childhood.  All the way through.  From my birth.

Led Zepplin, makes me think of my uncle Jac.  And of the way I saw and admired him as a child – still do to this day.  He was my hero.

The Police makes me think of long car trips with my folks, and us three kids sitting in the back, singing along, knowing all of the words, to every single song, on every single album.

Any song from The Sound of Music takes me back to 1988, when we went on a very exciting trip up to Joburg to visit my aunt and uncle – Bettie and Bert.  The whole family watched the movie together – with Bert re-enacting the bit with Maria on the hill.  He even had the little bag – super convincing.

Duran Duran makes me think of when I met Grant.  They’d sort of started fading by then already, but they were still Grant’s favourite band.  And when I hear them, I feel seventeen again.

Tears for Fears reminds me of 1984.  I was a teeny-bopper – eleven years old, in Grade 6.  And we all simply lived for that song.

Wake-me-up-before-you-go-go by Wham, takes me back to 1985.  And lumo colours.  I remember dance parties clearly, and snogging my boyfriend at the time.  Siss!  I was only twelve!

Eric Clapton makes me think of my Dad.  The biggest EC fan ever.  I picture him leaning down, and putting the CD on, and the whole house filling with sound instantly.  All of us jiggling, and singing along.  Playing air guitar for good measure too.

Carol King reminds me of my mom, when I was a teenager.  She’d go into ecstacy and hum and sing.  Arms out wide. 

 

Seal's, "Kiss from a rose" turns me into a 23 year old bride, dancing with my brand new husband, on our wedding night.

Crazy Frog reminds me of when Luke was about eight years old.  He loved that CD and played it to death.

Embarrassing secret about my rock star brother, Albert Frost.  When he was about twelve or so, he had the Michael Jackson, “Bad” album.  And he played it repetitively.  Over and over and over again.  Non-stop.  And my Dad would lament – “Why did Michael Jackson call his album Bad?”.  And knowing the answer all too well, we’d all chorus, “Cause he couldn’t spell ‘Pathetic’.”

Embarrassing secret about me.  When I was about twelve, I bought myself the one and only Rick Astley album.  And I played it repetitively.  Over and over and over again.  Non-stop.  It is bad enough to make your ears bleed.  However, I’m sure that if I had to hear it again now, I’d still know every word.  It is cringe-worthy.

And so my time travelling skills go on and on.  Never ending it seems.  With a click of the play button, I can propel myself to a different space time continuum.  And it is truly amazing.

When I’m there in that moment, I remember it all.  The feel.  The atmosphere.  The people.  The clothes.  The stories.  The vibe.  That same exact moment.

I see it so clearly, it’s awesome.  Utterly magical!

My greatest wish for all of you, is that you can time travel too.

Come on – try it!  I’ll even through in a cape to sweeten the deal.

PS:  When you tie it on – don’t do a bow.  It looks wimpy.  Instead go for the whole double knot thing.  Though not too tight mind you, in case you need to change over to your regular gear… 

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My brother plays a little guitar

My brother plays a little guitar
22 July 2014

No, seriously!  Look at the pic above.  When he’s not playing one of his regular big axes, he fiddles around on a little guitar.

I grew up in a very musical home.  Everyone could play something.  Usually more than one thing.  Everyone could sing.  Instruments were aplenty.

It was a natural progression for one of us to pick up the guitar.  Luck would have it, that the right kid did.  And the right instrument too.  Would have been utterly wasted on me.

Can you imagine, Albert Frost, The Dark Prince of Blues and all round rock star – the piano player??? 

We both had a bit of a Clarinet phase.  An even less likely instrument to inspire rock-star-ness.  Mostly likely the epitome of unsexy.  Probably a real ladies killer too.  And not in a good way either.  As in ladies run in the opposite direction.  But, lovely though the Clarinet was, for both of us, it luckily passed.  I even remember a brief recorder phase during Primary School.  Probably one of the most pointless instruments in the whole world.  I mean, even a triangle has more attitude.  And let’s not forget the cymbals!  With those little leather thong strappy things.  And we all know how cool thongs are…

Anyway, my mind is clearly drifting again.  Back to Albert.

Now the remarkable thing about Albert and the guitar, is that it’s all self-taught.  Not a single lesson in his life. 

No one ever nagged him to practice.  In fact, it was more of a challenge to get him to put the bloody guitar down, and stop practicing, than the other way around.  It went everywhere with us.  I remember going away for the odd weekend, when we were kids and driving in a really little car.  My folks, quite obviously in the front seats.  And Albert, Katrine and I, plus a friggin guitar, sharing cramped quarters in the back.  However, in true Von Trapp family style, we always managed to turn it into a fun adventure.  Even a long car trip.  All of us singing along to Beatles or Rolling Stones tunes.  Even a bit of Crowded House – the flavour of the day.

Those were really good times.  Funny that only hindsight made me realise it.  At the time, I was mortified by the little car.  The uncool parents.  The nerdy brother with his guitar appendage.  The annoying little chatterbox sister – I swear she never kept quiet.  Even for a minute.  For about fifteen years.  True story.

But here’s the thing – whilst most teenagers outgrow their obsessions and fads, Albert nurtured his.  Actually the whole family did.  He was encouraged.  Applauded.  Praised.  And without too much interference with his instrument, he quite simply slogged on with his continual practicing, and he flourished.

He could mimic and copy any song, anywhere, any time.  I remember in the beginning, he would battle it out a bit.  Struggle through the chords, and try and work it out on his own.  Lots of strumming.  And yes, like any other novice guitarist, he did a fair amount of “Smoke on the water” too.  It’s like a guitarist’s rite of passage.  Everyone cuts their teeth on that tune. 

I daresay, that he could play anything instantly now.  He knows each and every string on a guitar.  Intimately.  Knows exactly how to manipulate it, to get the exact sound he requires.  Precisely when and how to hit the right note.  With an incredible mastery and knowledge.

He’s a true living testament to perseverance.  Determination.  Drive.  And incredible talent.

Hard work pays off.  But what a bonus, if the work feels like fun.  Practice brings you joy, and the sweetest melodies flow forth from your efforts.

Yip, my brother plays a little guitar.  Like a boss.

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Ground Control to Major Tom

 

Ground Control to Major Tom
30 June 2014

Check you protein pills and put your helmet on.

What was David Bowie smoking?  And exactly how hallucinatory was that stuff?

Some song lyrics are truly bizarre.  Most odd indeed.

When you look at them objectively, they can be very strange.  Sound rather peculiar.  And make no sense at all.

If you were to write them down, and repeat them out loud, without the benefit of instruments, melodies or harmonies, they’d be just downright weird!

Still we love them.  We get used to them.  We even sing along to them.

So, sometimes the words are garbled.  And completely wrong.  But does that distract from our enjoyment?  Our love of those songs?  The way we know each and every word off by heart?

And therein lies the magic.  The trick.

I wonder what Snoop Dogg would charge me, if I commissioned him to write songs, to my 16 year old son’s Physics work?  I mean how hard would it be?  I’d supply the lyrics after all.  He could just do the C, A, B, C chord changes.  Spit into the mike a bit.  Add a bit of jiggie.  And Bob would be your uncle.  Or more accurately Sir Isaac Newton’s 3^rd Law of Motion would be.  Your uncle.  Your aunt.  Heck, even your mother.  I’m not fussy at all.

Easy as pie!

I’d even be prepared, to broaden my horizons.  To make the circle bigger. 

Perhaps the Red Hot Chili Peppers, would consider Grade 10 Biology?  Lil Wayne could do English.  Though considering his vocab, maybe better he rather not.  The Black Keys could tackle the mysteries of Pythagoras.  And History?  Well History, would simply have to be ASAP Rocky.

And in actual fact, taking into consideration, Snoop Dogg’s fondness for herbs, maybe he should be doing Biology instead?  The Peppers can do Physics.  Maybe Snoop can do Chemistry too?  Who knows, he might cook a bit on the side, meaning he’d bring a bit of chemistry know-how to the table already.

Anyway, just a thought.  Putting it out there. 

Think we’d make a pretty pop.  And the kids would excel.

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Maggie's 60th Birthday Party - Side B

Maggie's 60th Birthday Party - Side B
14 May 2014

Right, where was I?  Oh yes, the music!  The magical, marvellous, melodious, merrymaking, mellifluous music. 

To be fair, the kids were the first ones to pick up the instruments.  The adults, though starting to slowly wind their way upstairs, were still busy eating and socialising.  Some of the men, huddled around the TV as a big rugby game was being televised.  And when I say the kids, I don’t mean the teenagers.  I mean the little kids.  Three of them, to be exact.  A seven year old, nine year old and an eleven year old.  The eleven year old, Jo, is a pretty awesome little budding guitarists.  The nine year old, is my youngest, Cole – an aspiring drummer.  And the seven year old?  Well, he was mainly for show – wanting to take part, but basically mimicking all of the right actions.  Standing at the microphone, looking very, very cool.  But as for actual singing?  Well, no.  Not so much.

And as is the case when you’ve got a whole bunch of musicians around in any one place, the second someone picks up an instrument, the rest are sure to follow.  But here’s the very surprising fact.  It was an adult’s party.  The party of a sixty year old.  With many, many accomplished musicians on tap.  Just waiting to do their thing.  But not once, did they shoo the little kids away.  Scoot them out or off the instruments.  The adults were chivalrous, respectful of the fact that the kids started playing first, and rather than chasing the kids away, some of them quietly picked up their instruments and joined in.  Giving the kids the honour of leading.  Not telling them what to do.  Not advising them to either pick up the pace or slow it all down.  They simply joined them.  I found it very humbling and extremely precious.  The kids were not belittled.  They were given acknowledgement and encouragement, in a non-patronising way.  That takes both a special kind of skill, and a special kind of person.  And I am so very, very grateful to these generous muso’s, for the boost they gave these kids.

Though there did come a point, where the kids’ time was done, and the big people stepped up.  Albert was sort of the musical maestro, if you like.  Taking to the stage and inviting others on to join him.  And so, for the rest of the evening, the musical landscape changed continuously.  No one person dominated.  Albert played quite a bit.  But not the whole time either.  In total I reckon we had about six different drummers.  A variety of guitar players.  Daya did the harmonica (fondly called the harp) and saxophone, and we even had a percussionist in the house.  The singers changed the whole time.  Almost as frequently as the drummers and guitarists.  There was a continual flow.  Never a silent moment.  Never a wrong chord either.  How do they do that?  Mostly they played songs that everyone knew, as it was a guarantee that the fellow band members would be able to fall in.  But sometimes, they’d have a bit of a huddle and you’d overhear, “Right so we start of in G, then it’s D, E, B and then G again.  Actually just watch me and you’ll see.”  Amazing!  I reckon gigs like this could take months to rehearse.  Or they could simply fall miraculously and perfectly in to place.  Seeming to require hardly any effort at all. 

I loved the generosity of the muso’s.  Nobody dominating or controlling.  Sharing of instruments and ideas.  A very comfortable and relaxed sort of feel to it all.  The audience clapped and they really appreciated the musical splendour that was put on display.

And then, all of a sudden my brother, being the maestro, called up my youngest - Cole.  My nine year old little boy, who has a passion for drumming.  He’s been doing drumming for just over six months.  Going for lessons with a friend of mine’s 12 year old son.  We don’t have a drum kit for Cole.  He uses make shift ice cream tubs and coffee tins at home, barring his once a week lesson, where he gets to play on a real kit.  And so, when he was called up, Cole had not expected this at all.  To be fair, he didn’t even hear Albert in the beginning, because he was doing a bit of acrobatics and gymnastics combined, jumping off the mattresses in the dress up room.  Playing with the other kids.  No rehearsal, no practice, no idea whatsoever.  Yet, when we finally tracked him down, he wound his way to the stage.  Wearing a check dress and a pair of ladies black boots (dress-up fun is pretty irresistible).  Still I thought he showed a fair amount of bravery in getting up there in the first place.  I would imagine that from his perch on the drum stool behind the kit, the 80 or so audience would look pretty daunting.  Everyone was super encouraging.  And then, with very little fanfare or any big discussion, Cole had his very first jam.  Luckily, the song they chose, was a favourite – “I got mine”, by The Black Keys.  A favourite in our home – we’re all huge Black Keys fans.  And so Cole had an idea about the pace and naturally the rest of the band led him too.  Yes, yes – quite obvious I was biased.  But it was magical.  Completely and utterly perfect!  I thought my heart was going to explode.  I would spontaneously combust.  Or at the very least keel over with pride.  If you closed your eyes and didn’t actually watch the band, you would never have guessed that a little kid was doing the drumming.  He wasn’t being flamboyant, but he kept a good steady beat.  For the most part.  And it fit with the song perfectly.

Now here’s the thing – when most kids have their first jam session, it’s normally with fellow spotty faced kids of their own age.  Usually it’s teenagers.  But no, not Cole.  He shared the stage with two of my cousins – Gareth (who has a BMus, performs and gives lessons), and Jacques (who also performs in a band).  These cousins are in their middle to late twenties.  He adores both of them.  Then he also shared the stage with my brother, who has played with the likes of The Rolling Stones, Simple Minds, Vusi Mahlasela, Hugh Masakela, etc.  And the other band member?  Well that would be Willem Moller.  Yes, Willem Moller.  Only one of the most talented musicians in our fair country.  Those of you that watched the fabulous, “Searching for Sugarman” movie would have spotted Willem.  And his lovely wife Tonia too.  On Rodriquez’s first trip to South Africa, Willem and co, were recruited to be the support band for Rodriquez.  Until it became pretty obvious, close to the time, that Rodriquez would be coming to South Africa minus a band.  And would they be willing to fill in for him?  Well, quite predictably they jumped at the opportunity.  Willem is an exceptionally gentle soul.  And he was just so kind to the little budding musicians.

And so the music flowed.  From one song to the next.  From one group of musicians to the next.  Special mention should be made of my cousin, Roxy Lombard.  A little chick, with a really BIG voice.  She has incredible raw natural talent and makes it all seem so easy.  It is always disconcerting seeing her and then hearing her voice.  Can such a little person, really make such a cool awesome sound?  Soulful partly describes it.  Evocative.  Emotive.  Powerful.  A favourite with Roxy, is always, “Summertime”.  A song Roxy and her dad, my uncle Jac often play together.

As the various bands played, the crowd clapped, sang along, swayed, whistled, hooted and hollered.  Absolutely delighted by the incredible music on offer.  At one point, we had 7 Lombard family members sharing the stage – it’s true that two of those are Lombards by marriage, but still.  Another big surprise to me, was when two of my brother-in-law Robin’s daughters took to the stage, accompanied by my cousin Roxy, and an Auld family friend – Ashlin Fenton.  They did a fantastic song together, harmonising incredibly well.  And when that little foursome was done, well Kati Auld took to the stage on her own, accompanied by her ukelele, singing her own composition – The Milkshake Song.  Very funny indeed.

There even came a point, where there was large scaling dancing and jumping around.  Robin in particular, really got the crowd revved up.  some of the girl cousins took my grandfather for a spin.  And my uncle Dan, took my gran for a spin.  So sweet!

And still it did not end.  More and more musicians took to the stage.  Offering us, the lookers on, a once in a lifetime musical gig.  Never seen before.  My mom’s one cousin, Johan, even had a go too.

We eventually called the music to an end way after 1am.  Guests started crashing on mattresses, available beds and on mattresses in their bakkies.  A whole contingent of us left to go and sleep at my brother’s place, on a farm a few minutes out of town.  Predictably once there, we continued chatting away.  We eventually got to bed after 3am.  Ridiculous!  But such fun.

The following morning, we all traipsed back to my mom, where we reminisced about the fabulous party at length.  Took loads of photo’s.  drank coffee, ate breakfast, left over tea time treats, and eventually ate lunch as well!

What a phenomenal, incredible, awesome, wonderful, fantastic party!  Truly memorable. 

I’m just so glad that my mom is not a regular granny – hosting a lady’s luncheon or subdued family gathering to celebrate her birthday.  Music festivals are the best!  Especially if you get to handpick the musicians, have the perfect venue, and all of the other bits fall into place as well.  The memory of this party will linger forever.  Happy day.  Happy night.  Happy music.  Happy people.  Happy Maggie.

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My Cole doing his thing. Sharing the stage with some musical giants. Such a privilege. Suspect he'll mostly only realise this in years to come.

 

 

Just check that little face - huge big smile. Having the time of his life. Thought my heart was going to explode! Spontaneous combustion was also a possibility!

Some of Cole's audience - so sweet!

 

Now this is a treat - Tonia Moller on guitar. Joined by her husband Willem. Two of my cousins, Gareth and Jacques, and Albert on drums. Sweetest of all? The littlest fan, who drew a chair up for herself, and plonked herself right down in the middle of the stage. Not perturbed at all by the very loud music.

 

3 year old little daughter of my Mom's cousin in red - groupies start so young these days...

 

Giving it serious stick! Albert, Willem on drums, and cousins Gareth and Jacques.

There was a little bit of a set break. The adults made their way downstairs, to head to the bar, and stretch their legs a bit. Which gave the little kids the gap to take to the instruments again. Here we've got a 3 way drumming thing going on. Love the solitary fan looking on.

 

Cole and Jo completely on their own - Jo playing and singing.

 

Willem joined them, and took his queues from them. And little Max made his way to the microphone and pretty much stood there, looking very cool, and not singing much at all.

Kids having an absolute jol! Playing handclap games. "A sailor went to sea-sea-sea, to see what he could see-see-see! And all that he could see-see-see was the bottom of the deep blue sea-sea-sea!"

 

Now things get interesting as the band begins to grow. Off to the far left, hidden in the back, is Conrad on the keyboard. Jac, Albert, Gustav and Willem on guitar, with Chris Kreef on drums and Rob/Daya on the sax. Sooo cool! This is not an economically viable band. A seven way split on gig fees would be horrendous!

 

And finally Robin pulls in. Sublime!

 

This was truly mind blowing. Electrifying!

Lots of banter on the stage between the guys.

I love it when Albert drums! Funny how musicians can jump between instruments. Many of them extremely talented with a variety of them.

Now we've got Tonia on percussion and backing vocals - awesome!

A small three piece - Albert, Willem and Rob. Playing a special song Rob wrote for my Mom. One day, I'll have my own song too.

 

 

The enraptured crowd

Absolutely spell bound audience

 

My fabulous grandparents - Oupa and Ouma. My mom's folks. Both in their 80's. They stayed up until 2am, sitting at the very front, enjoying the music. They even went for a little spin on the dance floor. So sweet!

 

Everyone was mesmerised

 

 

Amazing mix of ages with the crowd, and the music was enjoyed by all

 

It's a bit of a tradition at every gig that my grandparents attend. My brother plays them Neil Young's, "Harvest Moon". And so beautifully too. Gives me the chills up my spine it is so touching.

 

 

My mom, sister and I - they're my very best friends and we chat to each other daily. So extremely fortunate to have best friends built into my family.

And the dancing started. Some of the girl cousins invited Oupa for a spin on the dance floor.

 

And my Uncle Dan, took my gran for a twirl - so sweet!

 

Crowd at the front - dancing and bopping away

 

Very funky - Robin broke out with some Prince tunes which really got the crowd going. As well as some other smoking hot numbers too.

 

#GranGotRhythm

 

Getting lost in the music

 

Four family muso's

Such cool vibes being turned out by the mostly family band

An uncle, a brother, a brother-in-law and two cousins. A real family affair. So special!

These boys did so good. Had us all enthralled!

 

I'd like to present LAAF to you. A Lombard, 2 Aulds and a Fenton. LAAF - you get it? These girls just blew us away. They were amazing!

 

 

And then the lovely Kati Auld, treated us to her very own original song. The Milkshake Song. Just love the sound of her ukeleli. So amazing!

 

 

Yet another Lombard takes to the stage - my Mom's cousin Johan, with Albert in tow

 

They were fabulous!

Sooo cool!

 

A bunch of us slept over at Albert's house - the boys in the kitchen drinking coffee and laughing at some or other very rude joke, told by Dan

 

My poor brother - don't know how he puts up with it. View from his back garden.

 

This is about ten steps from his kitchen door - magnificent!

 

We attempted a proper photo of us three kids with my Mom - but the sun was being particularly unfriendly

 

Loads of scrunched faces

 

Eventually this was the best shot - facing away from the sun

Just chilling at Muisnes

 

Chatting away!

 

Stoep chatter

 

Us 3 Loubser kids bought my mom these Babushkas for her birthday. She has a real thing for Babushkas. This was an old one found at an antique shop. And what made it so very special, is the fact that it has 10 nesting dolls. Which perfectly works out for my mom, her three kids and six grandchildren. We named each one as we unpacked it for her. It was very significant and she had a really happy-tears-moment.

The kids are still playing pool and loving it too!

 

The attic strewn with mattresses. Albert and Kati having a chat.

 

The kids could just not leave those mattresses alone

 

Cousin Gareth still playing - having his own moment

 

Chilling in the kitchen - Kati, Katrine and my lunatic brother Albert. Always been a bit of a clown. A very, very funny guy.

 

Reminiscing about the awesome party

My mom and her mom - Ouma Helene

 

The Helene's

 

Oupa and Ouma with their Loubser grandchildren

 

4 Moms together on Mother's Day - very, very special

 

My cousin - Jaco. Such a nice guy. Love him to bits!

 

Gysie - a very old family friend. He remembers visiting and my mom standing on the stoep with me in her arms, having just come home from the hospital after giving birth.

 

 

Posing for a pic with Gysie

 

 

More stoep chatter

 

Still trying to recover from tea treats, supper and breakfast, when we started working our way through lunch!

 

Lounging about - soaking up the sun

So chilled

 

Everyone super relaxed!

 

Honey has been going through a bit of a Princess-and-the-pea phase. Made a huge big mattress stack, put a pea at the very bottom, lay on the top and claimed that she could feel it. Obviously!

Katrine and I - love my sister sooooo much!

 

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