Revolution is of all times and ages and there's a new one coming

If I had been granted unlimited internet access, lived in Olympia or in a sleepy UK town and a little bit older and had the right friends (absolutely nothing wrong with the friends I had, they lacked the exact same things I lacked), I probably was a riot grrrl in the early nineties loving all the riot grrrl bands playing it right at that time. I probably wouldn't have been able to see them play, I'm not even sure how I would even know about them, being a teenage girl in Rotterdam, the Netherlands who's friends were into Metallica and Dream Theatre and (later on) Nirvana. I would have had to rely on mixtapes from America. I had none. But without all that I think, looking back, I might have been one all along and ever since. Because, it's not a music genre, it's a social subculture. This is pretty much what it was and what it still is. It's not death, it never was. A movement can be small and pushed back by male dominance and the media (which could be regarded the same thing).

I've always loved music more than the average person (except a few years after Doe Maar broke up, I must have been that upset that I shut down from music altogether and when I saw a poster of ballet shoes in the room of a friend I thought 'So, this must be this Spandau Ballet everyone is all about.' No shit.), listening to the lyrics of one of the Doe Maar albums I seriously questioned why my mother would let a 6-year-old listen to that, it's Dutch so I understood every word, I just didn't know what they meant. But I'm grateful today and my mother told me she let me have the albums as she found them educational for me. I enjoyed playing DJ in my room, made re-mixes of my favourite songs with my records and a tape recorded, made hit lists, made my own music magazine, wrote my own reviews, even about albums that didn't exist. My music evolution knows some questionable choices but you got to know your enemy before forming an opinion right (coughs)? And one Easter break I sat with my sister in a caravan and we talked about forming a band together. I wrote down some lyrics and we both were content with them. The idea of forming a band together returned a couple of times in our lives. I own a guitar, an electric guitar, a ukulele (a green one and it's the coolest you'll ever see). I've played drums on a friend's kit back in high school to which he informed me I was the best player of everyone there (I at least knew how to hold the sticks). I wanted to be a harmonica player and owned a few cheap ones (much to the stress of my parents). My aunt actually gave me her guitar when I was about 14. I've always been aware of the politics of our country, I've always questioned the role of women in this world, I'm a socialist ever since I was able to vote (and probably before as well), every job test I made in school said I should be a social worker (not regarding I'm really socially awkward and don't trust people that much. If you're my friend consider yourself lucky), I've been called a true punk throughout my life without seeing myself as one ('I don't have the looks!'), and if I do something on a regular basis it's kicking against society. In the comfort of my own home.

Why on earth did I never form that band you say? There's one very good reason and it's not even my voice (I auditioned for a band once and let's say my friends were not impressed though they never told me directly). I have the music ability of a penguin. Place a penguin at the carnival in Rio and it will dance as hopelessly I will. A penguin has just as much chance to play a decent chord on a guitar with its wings than I have with my hands. I often do not sing at concerts because I don't want to insult the band. Usually the only person who can hear me sing is myself and that's enough to put me off. I may have all the inspiration and intentions to be in the best punk band you've ever seen but, to use the wise words of Joost Belifante about violist in my own situation; I'm a trans-musician. A musician in the body of a total none-musician. It sucks doesn't it?

There are others things I could do. Yesterday when I saw the Socialist Party handing out their newspaper for the States Election this March I approached one of them and he happened to be the chairman of the division where I live. If they needed some helping hands. I have no idea if I'm able to do it, if I can get out of the comfort zone of sitting on my couch with my laptop and being utterly passive aggressive behind a screen, ranting about music, politics and social atrocities in a blog and on twitter. I feel a revolution happening. And who knows, I might dis my inner penguin and play protest songs for real. I'm not too old. No one is too old. As Ernst Jansz told me "It's entirely up to you".

The beauty of aging

How to describe a band no one has heard of, I didn't even know what they sounded like until yesterday, playing a style I usually don't listen to and not that familiar with (except for knowing it exists). How to write a review when you don't know the titles (except for the 3 Nederpop classics they played plus one more). As far as the band regards, they are described as being 'the Dutch oldest hippie band' (founded 1967) and posting a fairly recent photo of them below, it could give you an idea. The audience? It's fair to say, 50+, men were either grey or bald, women grey or having good dye-jobs. Add three giggling young men dragged along with their parents and their friends (who turned out to be Massive Fans) and me. In a small theatre with the most comfortable chairs. Not knowing what to expect but knowing Joost Belifante is in the band, who most notable (for me) wrote and performed Doe Maar's classic song 'Nederwiet' (a 7 minute spoken word epos on how to grow your own weed) and two other Doe Maar legends being Jan Hendricks and Ernst Jansz who is my hero in many ways. I couldn't describe them and I still can't.



So this is not about the band. Being the youngest person there for the band felt weird but I soon realised the people were incredibly nice. And really excited about the show. The anticipation was high. And the responds massive. After every song there's be clapping, not just polite but filled and fueled with appreciation. Every note was appreciated, and people waited until the last note echoed away only ti burst out in a wave of appreciation. 'Beautiful, this is wonderful' I heard so often around me. Feet stomped on the floor to the rhythm (I'll try to explain the sound, think Seasick Steve as a band). And these men, all well in their 60s, had so much joy playing the songs. They talked about them with passion. They told anecdotes, they made jokes about Amsterdam parking (Belifante was being fined for unloading his vehicle in front of the venue). It was that joy they desplayed that also came across in their playing that made it wonderful, so incredibly enjoyable. They loved it, everyone in the theatre loved it. Everyone was loving it and it felt great. And again, the appreciation, it's something you don't get that often, it's not that when I'm in a crowd at a gig I feel the appreciation from the crowd. They're loving it, sure, but don't we take the band not for granted? We expect them to play for us but where's the appreciation? It's not in record sales, downloads, t-shirt sales. It's a feeling and you can express that. It's not often I felt it before and I'm not playing holy saint that I'm always full of appreciation, I'm having a good time and loving it, love it when they play that one track I love so much. Of course there is some form of appreciation. It's hard to describe, it was just different last night.

Maybe it's because when you're older you start to appreciate things more. If that's the way to go I'm signing up. Well, I have. Officially. I told Jansz that they are truly inspiring and he said that it's all up to you whether you keep on loving music that passionately. What I'm saying is, never stop loving music. Appreciate it. Keep on going to gigs even when you think you are too old. Or too young. You love it, keep on doing it. If there was anything learnt last night, even though I already knew it, it's that. And I will. Janet Weiss said in an interview that she could see herself playing covers in a band at the age of 70 and that it wasn't a bad faith. Not at all. She's right you know.

Please note I completelty left out the surprise guest musician. Who was, I may add, golden.

Doe Maar in the Top2000

The Top 2000 is a trip down to memory and if there's several songs in the list by the first ever band you loved, you can't help but dust off the albums (or in my case desperately trying to get more songs on MP3 and loud them to my walkman) and enjoy them all over again. In my case I've spent plenty of time on my bicycle listening to Doe Maar. The Netherlands' most popular band ever. They played a mix of ska, reggea, pop and a bit of punk and sang their critical, free-thinking, relationship, political songs in Dutch. The band introduced merchandising in the Netherlands. They produced such a demand for the band that they had to call it a day. And when they did I sat crying in front of the television. I was 8 years old but I can still see them in the dressing room. For a very long time I had a serious gap in my music history, apparently I said goodbye to music when they split (must have been the time I read every book about the weather our library had in stock).

Doe Maar songs are a document of the early 80s in the Netherlands. I'm not here to give a national history lesson but we all know the phrase 'history repeats'. Their songs are relevant all over again. I could always relate to songs as 'Pa' (about how you're not like your dad wanted you to be) and 'Ruma Saja' (about how you're also a stranger in your father's country, I was able to tell this to the singer of the song, Ernst Jansz, earlier this year which was one of the best moments in my life), but songs such as 'Doe maar net alsof je neus bloed' (about closing your eyes for what's going on in the world) and 'De bom' (The bomb, chorus goes little as 'Come on drop it already, it's going to happen anyway, it doesn't matter if you run') are relevant again. They have timeless classics everyone older than 30 is able to sing along effortless. That's what makes a great band. I'm really not a fan of Dutch music, but Doe Maar, I have to admit this once and for all, is a part of me.

Here's 'De bom', a song that captures the main aspects of the band the best. Curiously it never appeared on an album.

Top 3 gigs @ Paradiso Kleine Zaal Amsterdam

Am I one of these people who will moan when their favourite band gets this big they will be playing bigger venues? I have to admit I sort of am but not because I don't want the band to be successful and wouldn't want to share this with the rest of the world but simply because I love the smaller venues. Kaiser Chiefs in the 850 capacity Melkweg was much better than Kaiser Chiefs in the 5,000 capacity HMH (and this was not just because their songs had gone drastically down the drain ever since). These smaller venues are real. I just love them. Two of my top 3 gigs of this year have taken place in such a small venue, the little stage of the Paradiso in Amsterdam. And to honour just that, here's my top 3 of my favourite gigs from that very stage, Paradiso - kleine zaal.

3) Ernst Jansz (October 2010)
It was more the whole experience that made it. All seated with some honourable Dutch musicians in the audience, Jansz was playing Bob Dylan songs in Dutch, talked about Dylan songs, showed Dylan pictures. I don't even like Dylan! It was still amazing. Ernst Jansz means more to me than words can say. After the show, where we were all treated on cake and champagne, I tried to tell him anyway. The hug and kiss (on the cheek) I got in return are priceless. That combined with the great musician, singer and story teller he is made this unforgettable.

2) Quasi (May 2010)
Not knowing what to expect from this band they really blew me away. This is how God intended rock n roll to be. For me this show was also some kind of turning point. It was my definite goodbye from general frustration about 'nme-indie', isn't there anything else? Sure there is. And Quasi are the King and Queens of that. Ever since this gig I never felt too old for any show any longer. And let it be said that Janet Weiss and Sam Coomes are two of the most genuine and kindest musicians I've ever met.

1) The Cribs (September 2007)
If the microphone stand of Gary Jarman falls down straight into the plastic cup with beer of his brother Ryan you just know the stage is small. The Cribs (then still a 3-piece) are notoriously known for their raw and energy filled shows, this was no exception, far from it. Sweat literally dripped from them on us. And from us on them. The venue was boiling. Everyone was hyped. There was serious crowd surfing. It was amazing. One of the best gigs I've seen? Definitely. Best live band too.


All pictures on this post are made by me.