“An experiment in sight, sound and formlessness” the poster reads, describing the Blue Light Underground Experiment (BLUE) hosted by BLU & Third House Poetry. This was the first official collaboration between THP founder Kiva Farah and psych musicians Tyla Burnett and Will Glendinning (BLU). First wave tickets went fast at R70, so I bought second-wave knowing what I was in for would be worth every cent.
The line-up was unique; it was long, for one thing. Amongst the recognisable, there were many names I had never heard of before. It turned out this line-up was an eclectic mix of poets and musicians from different disciplines and genres, carefully paired together to blend their art forms in an experimental fusion of poetry, music and shifting psychedelic visuals. Good omens brought this fusion together, Kiva shares with me. “This astrologer had told me we would be good business partners… and we should try and work on something meaningful together.” Their fate was sealed upon Tyla opening a fortune cookie that read “when love and skill are combined, expect a masterpiece”.
First on the line-up was Black Math, with a spoken-word performance by Tyla’s father Stuart ‘Ballie Stu’ Burnett, to start them off. With drummer Acacia Van Wyk taking up a tambourine, the band’s usual high–power sound was transformed into a heady ode to the Robertson countryside.
I asked Tyla what it was like performing alongside his father. “My father was actually my first inspiration when it comes to poetry and music,” he responds. “I remember seeing his guitar hanging on the wall all my life, used to love watching him play when I was young.” It was such a beautiful pairing of music to poetry, rising steadily in energy and volume to a full-bodied crescendo. “We’ve collaborated before,” Tyla confirms my suspicions. “He's recited poetry over songs I've recorded but performing live with him has been a dream of mine for a few years.”
To a large extent it was a family affair for Tyla: He and Will knew each other from school days and have been playing music together and experimenting with hosting events for a little while now, along with many of the other musicians on the line-up. Tyla’s sister was also there, selling delicious home-baked goods at the entrance, which were so yummy I went back for seconds, and then thirds to take home.
Tyla and Kiva are in love. “Tyla’s really good at selling a dream… His ethos for BLU… very much aligned with [THP’s] value system and what we envision for our community.” Will echoes this sentiment, citing their friendship as a launch pad for many of their creative endeavours. “Tyla has always spearheaded the idea,” he says, “And hats off to him… I’ve always been around to handle the logistics side of things.” Will was up on stage as well that night, pouring his heart into the keyboard and vocals as one half of “Gutter Pup”, with Savannah Thunder taking up the poetic mantle.
The venue for BLUE was perfectly chosen to convey the depth and poignancy delivered by the artists. The Homecoming Centre (formerly The Fugard) is an unusual venue for gigs, but happily boasted two accessible stages throughout the night (plus a third with a silent disco we weren’t expecting), and a large foyer with attentive bar staff. The wine isn’t cheap, but where is these days? In any case, they pour a generous glass every time. I learned later on that Chloe Leal, the venue coordinator at Homecoming Centre, has been instrumental in bringing new kinds of acts to the space.
As a long-time psych rock gig-goer in Cape Town, Homecoming is a strong change of pace from the usual gritty club or hipster “dive" bar, with standing room in front of a stage built one foot off the ground or less. Don’t get me wrong, we love those. My favourite places to go out are still EVOL and Surfa Rosa. I smiled as avid supporters of the psych scene rolled up to this classy joint with their flat caps, piercings and tatts, and as more attendees filled the large foyer I felt a thrum of excitement reverberating off the walls.
I caught up with some musicians I knew who would perform for us later that evening. There, too, was an unusual air about the day; their nonchalance replaced with tingling anticipation. It was clear that everyone there was not sure how the event would play out, how the pairings would sound together, if it would ‘work’. “It was a gamble”, Tyla recounts. “Prior to the first rehearsal most of the artists had never even met before.”
“It was so beautiful, the whole process.” Will tells me, explaining the synergy with which everything came together. “The lead up revolved around getting a lot of people from different facets of creativity, bringing Kiva and the poets on board.” Poetry brings an element of intimacy. The act of reciting a poem is a vulnerable one, and the act of sitting still and really listening closes that circle of vulnerability between artist and audience member. “A more intimate and present experience [is] hard to come by outside of the jazz scene.” Tyla tells me, adding that the Homecoming Centre offers great freedoms in terms of its facilities for sound and visual production.
“And let's face it; Cape Town is in a severe need of more venues as well as something new.” I agree, smaller capacity music venues available in Cape Town generally tend to lean on the club experience over a more intimate setting. RIP Alexander Bar & Raptor Room (both great venues but alas, Covid got them). There are a few stand-out alternatives such as Selective Live, a lovely venue on New Church St that hosts Third House Poetry, Kiva’s open-mic spoken-word event, every last Tuesday of the month. However, these events generally cater to one specific genre, one art form, and draw a particular kind of crowd. The Fugard is one such example, but since changing hands and rebranding it has branched out from strictly theatrical-type acts and increased the variety of gatherings previously permitted at the site.
Thus, BLU achieved their goal of maintaining a conscious and intimate space without compromising on size or spectacle. BLU’s only two other events prior had kept a much smaller line-up, but lacked the poetry element then. Once the poets were all on board, however, it was full steam ahead. “We had thirty-three artists, fifteen acts. It was huge!” Kiva tells me. “Professional jazz musicians like members of Kujenga and The Loneliest Monk were happy to come and work with novice poets… I really appreciated everyone’s attitude.”
Kiva describes the ethos of the event as being created “in the in the spirit of experimentation, collaboration, artistic fusion and just creating something new by doing something different.” I admire that sentiment, and what’s more, I love jazz, theatre, ambient & psych music, and poetry. This event managed to encapsulate all of the above, with the love and care from members involved in each of these mostly separate spaces. It was refreshing to see this particular fusion of different Capetonian flavours together in one room, sharing one moment. “The diversity was crazy,” Will says, “the amount of languages spoken was crazy, the type of music that was being made as well was just so diverse.”
I asked them about the selection process for the line-up. “We never wanted it to be a competition” Kiva responds. “It was more about how well we thought this performance would go with a musical backing.” Many of the poets chosen were headhunted through THP. “It’s all about equality… we have respect for where you are in your poetic journey.” I nod and add: “and not everyone is into ambient and jazz music!” We laugh. Kiva agrees. “Yeah, or wants to perform in a theatre space!”
Out in Paarden Eiland, Will kept a studio and hosted rehearsals for many of the fusion acts. “[We] got the performers together and kind of just let them go crazy!” Will laughs. Tyla wanted the artists to feel like it was their event. “It’s important to relinquish control,” Kiva says. “We gave minimal feedback here and there, if they asked.” I nod in agreement. By surrendering your creation to the collaborative process it allows the artists full reign to do what they do best. “We trusted that people are good at what they do,” adds Will.
The immediate support and enthusiasm for the event’s goals seem to have overwhelmed the three of them with joy and gratitude. “It’s amazing to just see the feedback, people wanting to get involved and want to be a part of it.” Will tells me, confiding that he is still coming down from the high of the event itself. “[It’s] an authentic expression of music, trying to just connect with people.” Kiva adds she felt it was perhaps another omen; how they managed to just about sell out the event at max pax ~200 without spending a dime on advertising (shout out to Cam Lofstrand who created the poster pro-bono) speaks to the community’s desire for a space like this, with “[a] particular ethos at its heart.”
It got me in the heart, too. I felt uplifted and held by each performance. Every piece was soulful, considered and took me on an emotional journey. From touching on themes of love and lust, to struggle songs and poems about heartbreak and nightmarish rage against systems of oppression that overshadow us, there was something for everyone. Presented as vignettes, these short acts kept the crowd on their toes for a full five hours, forming a rich tapestry of creative thought innately reflective of the faceted human experience.
Little moments that felt huge to me included the responses to Nique’s spoken-word performance on the main stage, with audience members fanning themselves and whooping in approval at the poet’s vivid celebration of queer desire and self-love. Another was watching music-lovers around me enraptured by the sight of Sueños drummer Hanno and saxophonist ZwiLe performing an extended improvised duet together at the end of their set. The sight of poet Denise growling into the mic while Sold Ash rubbed his guitar on the wall to make it scream, leaving viewers with mouths hanging open. Each sight and sound was honest, ephemeral and heart-felt.
Cape Town is very cliquey, and by that I mean we are stricken with social anxiety. Many people like myself participate in these respective ‘scenes’ separately from one another, sticking with one crowd and occasionally dropping in on the others, without making ourselves completely at home. There are so many events per scene that one can get swept away entirely and miss out on key events happening elsewhere that one might have liked to take part in. This, I felt, was one of those events, and it was invigorating to see these scenes blended together with the atmosphere of openness. The result could be seen and felt in every element of the night; earnestness and welling gratitude came through in each performance, and those feelings lingered long after the night was over for me.
“One of the goals of this collective is to put out a zine featuring all the poets’ work.” This is still in the works, but Kiva says if they can pull it off, it would be a brilliant way to compensate the artists for their contributions, and keep up the momentum for the event. There is an opportunity here for any potential businesses who believe in a vision like this to get involved in the project as they prepare to ramp up for the next event in about six months.
It’s a noble venture in my opinion; supporting artists now more than ever is essential to lifting brilliant voices such as these onto a platform, where they can share their work, collaborate, and potentially build a life out of their creative endeavours. The world needs art that speaks to the human experience in South Africa, and we South Africans need to hear it most.
We have so much talent in our city, in our country. We have immense passion, love and grace to share with each other. The music evoked an expansive feeling that lifted my spirits all the way up to the old rafters. I can’t wait to see more from these artists and the undiscovered ones yet to join them on stage, and watch the Blue Light Underground discover new and exciting intersections between the arts, and perhaps the zine can bring us a little more joy in the interim.