Ode to Up The Creek
Up The Creek has been awarded a special place in my heart, perhaps because it coincides with my birthday, but even if this wasn't the case it would still garner the most love from me when compared to its younger music fest siblings. Anyone who has been lucky enough to venture the few hours' drive to Swellendam and floated down the Breede in a lilo's loving embrace will know what I mean. Free from pretention, corporate branding bombardments, hordes of teenage boys, howling gales and own-alcohol restriction areas, UTC blows all other CT fests out of their designated body of water, be it river, dam or creek.
Shadowclub
Jeremy Loops
Taxi Violence
As this is my hat-trick review of this lovely fest, I felt that an angle other than the usual 90 degrees was needed. So, with no further ado, a short very unconstructed Ode to Up The Creek:
In the Shadow of a Looping Kongo of Violence, Kings, Gypsy Queens and Great Apes sail upon the Hot Waters so Blue in an Arc that belongs to no one and to all. A Comet streaks across the Luna, a Fox croons a Black Cat purrs. Intense intents in tents.
Turn the Paige, a moshy stomping Club gathers while brave aquatic souls dive from above into a City Bowl of flesh, Bones and spirit, inspiring a tribal need to let all loose and Wrestle the waves of sound.
Everything is oh so Peachy Keen. This is a Sterling Southern Holiday my Broers.
Sun soaked, spirits consumed, dance had and invisible frisbee caught. Up The Creek, you complete me.
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