For most of us, The Purple Turtle was where it started. It was where we could drink under-age, watch our friends sweat it out on stage, and throw bottles off the balcony at the trendy kids waiting outside Baseline. Where we learnt to love gritty, small-scale live music. It was the bar you could go to and know everyone, every time. A certain slice of the population – a weird splinter faction of a generation – had made it home over the course of a recent decade. We were different, but the Turtle made us special.
So it came as no surprise that the most common phrase heard at the Purple Turtle’s first live music event in years was, “I was there, dude!” The bouncer was surly, the door girl was wasted, and the air was stinking hot, thick with smoke and human moisture. The bands hadn’t even started playing yet. All the old faces were there, most of them hairier. It was just like it always had been.
Except it wasn’t, quite.
The grungy Rock ‘n Roll walls, painted with two-tone abstracts, were gone, replaced by plush maroon and black curtains. The pillar with a collage of ancient fliers promoting bands with names like “The Revolting Cocks” was missing, which didn’t feel right. The bar was snazzy, with nice TVs all over the place. The Turtle had grown up into a vulgar middle-class cigar lounge.
The dodgy stairs leading up to the balcony where you could buy pre-rolled spliffs from a dude, and smoke them, or chill in the pitch black interior and wait for the bands to start, were also gone. There is a dance club upstairs now, with a separate entrance.
Aesthetics aside, it seemed that not all of the vibe we remembered was contained by the Turtle itself. We had hung on to it, and brought it with us. As soon as the bands started playing it didn’t matter how many years had passed since the last time you skanked to one of Brett Allen-White’s bands.
The starting act, Sabretooth, was a metal outfit, as you can clearly see here. They got the air nice and sweaty with some crazy guitar, fast double-bass drumming and meaty vocals and screams. The crowd seemed hesitant to start a circle-pit right there, and was content with solo head-banging. Next up were Cape Town rockers A B Turbo, the band many of us had come to see.
A B Turbo could be described as a mix of post-hardcore, screamo, etc, and deliver a punchy, solid performance. The sound quality was good enough, and the band energized the crowd so much that by the time they finished a large pit had been going for a while, and several people had been successfully injured.
To give a little background, A B Turbo consists of Sean Devey on drums and Brett Allen-White on bass, both of whom played in old Turtle stalwart band Three-Fifty (much though they hate to admit it). They later had a successful run playing in Doppler Effect, alongside Devon Martindale and Peter Walton who now deliver powerful, creative and purposeful guitar. Matt James completes the outfit with a great range of cutting vocals, and the perfect on-stage image.
A B Turbo Was Awesome
Lank Awesome
Up next was Half-Price, the only band playing that evening who actually used to play at the Purple Turtle way back when. They were in more or less the same shape and form, although those shapes and forms had grown a little saggier, and less aggressively drunk. Unfortunately I cannot comment on their performance, as I had left to go take some shots of Hog Hoggidy Hog playing at Zula bar.
Upon my excellently-timed return I managed to catch all of one of Cape Town’s premier ska bands, 7th Son. Their sound has changed dramatically over the last few years, growing harder and more musically complex as the band grows with new members and new styles. When last I heard them they were more or less the chilled version of The Rudimentals with better lyrics. These days, they’re about as close as you can get to seeing a band like RX Bandits in Cape Town, for under fifty bucks.
If it had been any other venue, I would call it a pretty damn good show. But being back in that space, watching familiar faces and hearing familiar sounds, with people you’ve seen around for years, was something special. It didn’t matter much about the music, or the decor, or upstairs, or that the gents bathroom door was still broken. We all got a chance to re-live some of our most awesome nights. And that was rad.
We look forward to the next one.
Related posts:
