Indian men and Goldfish, a story about Faithless

 Free tickets are never easy to turn down, especially if you’re being offered media passes and golden circle to a band that you’ve heard are amazing live and who’s music is captivating to the point of intoxication. We arrive at the casino to a monstrous line and are quickly escorted to a shuttle that will transport us to another entrance to ease the congestion. We put our fake names forward and head straight into the performance venue. Goldfish make an Indian man in the space roll his fists in the air and gyrate his hips. The purple floral shirt he dons quite suite his dance.” I love how Indian people dance!” I scream into my chirpy photographers ear. “It’s not Indian people, it’s gay people!” is her shout back. Of course it is.

Old people love Faithless, I make a mental note while looking around Grand west’s performance hall. Old ass hippies vehement on keeping the party going stand around slightly bobbing their heads to the tunes of Goldfish waiting for the real musicians to step up to the plate. I can’t quite understand how they can take the amount of lumo studded, sweat dripping , youngsters screaming “No matter how much you want to leave you will come back!” while jumping up and down as if trying to break the solid earth beneath. I can’t handle it, and while Chirpy uses her media pass to snap a few photo’s  of the jazz inspired, house duo a cigarette craving needs to be settled.

Jocks love Faithless, the fresh air outside is poisoned with the sputtering out of words like kiff. and descriptions of the event as a “Sick Jol”. A bus arrived filled with testosterone pumping tough guys, with high heeled, make up laden poppys on their arms. It’s definitely going to be a sick jol. As they make their way past one catches the sound of one the poppys claiming she loves Faithless, and that he (Faithless) is such a deep guy. If she only knew how deep he really was.

Maxi Jazz is an intimidating figure. Not only because he looks like an extraterrestrial who could have roots on planet earth stemming from Addis Ababa, completed with a hypothetical exoskeleton rib cage that makes his six pack null and void. It’s his magnanimous  presence that fills the entire arena that makes one feel not worthy and thus immediately avert your attention from his Nike sneakers. His ability to control a crowd is mad and one can’t help but lose themselves in his presence and aura. Aiding him is Sister Blisses refusal just to be a background feature instead she too pushes asserts herself in her playing of the keys on the board in front of her, throwing her blonde head from one side to the other. Although  Maxi perpetually refers to loving each other and treating each other well, the crowd has gone primal and only scream to hear more from the powerful musicians. Through Insomnia it is impossible to stand still as the whole crowd are on imaginary trampolines, threatening to trample any one not jumping. As I try to catch my breath in the buildup of the next song. Some munchkin the height of my knees threatens to box them should I even think of trying to stand still.

Chirpy photographer notice how aggressive the atmosphere is after the show and talk about how everything Maxi told us went straight out the window. We expect a fight to break out and rush off to her car. That’s it I guess. Everybody loves Faithless, except for the Indian guy, who probably payed the four hundred rand to see Goldfish.   

written by Phumlani Pikoli

photos by Danielle Clough