It’s 2017 the 30th of December… and I’m out of my mind. I’ve stopped counting but I should be on 3 tabs of MDMA laced with LSD, the dealer calls it 2CP, I think, about a gram of Magic Mushrooms and 2 papers, LSD. My feet planted in the wet muddy grass. The light drizzle is welcomed by what must be about a 1000 people. Everyone high on something. Usually I handle these situations quite well, but this time, this time it’s quite obvious, I am not in control. And wont be for a few hours to come.
I only came too when the front man shouted: ‘That’s how you do a soundcheck!’ That was 20 minutes in… Damn straight! I’ve always wondered what Mel Gibson meant when referred to the term ‘Warrior Poets’, but this man is the epiphany of just that, a goddam Warrior Poet. He’s got all the style, charisma, grace, but most important of all, he’s got anger.
I’m 40 minutes into the show not having moved once and then reality hits me, knocking me almost of my feet. Now when I say reality, I mean me, of balance staggering around trying not to fall on face, or what’s left of it and what seemed like reality warped into one continues heartbeat chasing the pace held by the band. And all I have in return is this dumb retarded smile across my numb alien like face. But in this moment I find my feet, I find my rhythm, I find purpose and I find some hope in my redundant existence.
‘Don’t blame me cos I’m chilling with these white cats. Don’t blame me cos I’m rolling with them coloureds. All I see is just human beings, all I see is just people.’ I wanted to hold onto these words for as long as possible but the Warrior Poet broke through the thunder and rain shouting over the crowd: ‘Don’t don’t don’t don’t fuck with me!’ And there in the middle of nowhere, between mountains and vibrant colour this man was my leader, his band my brethren.
Throughout the festival, Smoking Dragon that is, I was told countless times to not miss this show, this band. Fucking BCUC!
Now I don’t know much about much, but I do consider myself as a music connoisseur, a music snob if you must. So going into this show I already had my mind made up, nothing can shock me anymore, nothing can surprise me anymore, nothing on stage can really do much for me anymore, this might be the reason why I consumed as much as I did.
And now, here I sit with my foot in my mouth knowing that I know fucking nothing, fuck all, I don’t know shit. I guess all I know is that I’m going to be at their next show, wherever it may be, even if I have to sell what is left of my soul.
BCUC is one of the most inspiring acts I’ve probably ever had the fortune to witness. So next time you have the chance to go and see them live, don’t be a doos, go get inspired…
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