Ryan Calder Band » Rudi Engelbrecht

If Rudi Engelbrecht was my psychiatrist…

Ryan — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 08:16:20 +0000

As you know, I am intrigued by people’s stories. I much prefer autobiographies over anything else. There’s nothing more interesting, I find, than hearing someone’s story and their own personal journey: what they’ve been through and what are the things that have made them who they are.

And if our drummer Rudi had a biography, it would be well worth the read. But rather than delve into the Benonian’s history (I’ll leave that to him to blog) I’ve once or twice found myself engaged in conversation with aforementioned Roo, and pondered his advisory role, both in my own life and that of the RCB.

If Rudi Engelbrecht was a psychiatrist, Dr Phil would be out of business. If he was MY psychiatrist, there would be drastic changes to certain aspects of my worldview.

For the uninformed, Roo and I agree on the main things: we’re both sinners saved by grace, nothing beats family time, and the answer to most of the world’s problems can be solved around a braai or over a popular Irish stout.

That said, it’s the finer details… and here’s where certain nuances in my value system would be instructed to change with regard to life on earth. For example:

• I’d probably have to trade in my Nikes for Doc Martins. You see, Rudi is fundamentally old school in many ways, and hails from the era where there was nothing more to radio than Barney Simon, and hard-rocking grunge was paramount. Doc Martins were, and still are, par for the course for any self-respecting, anti-establishment rocker.

• The sabbath would be observed concurrently with the broadcasting of F1 Grand Prix. Nothing, and no-one, interferes… no matter how big the crisis is. End of story.

• If the money became available, I would go out and buy a trok (bakkie). ‘Tis the way of the Dutchman.

• While driving my trok, talking to other drivers on the road as if they are a part of the discourse would become a way of life.

• A variety of gadgets are key ingredients to a working day. Keeping up with bits of electronic innovations which make your life easier – like voice-activated GPS for the car, hands-free bluetooth ear-pieces… the list continues to grow.

• Android over iPhone. (Sad, but true.)

• Two staple diets (along with lots of coffee) would be Discovery Channel and Car Magazine. These are modern-day masculinity trademarks for white boys born before Bieber. You watch. You read. You live by.

I really could go on and on… but I’m sure that you get the picture. Rudi brings some fundamentals to the RCB besides solid beats. Where would we be without him?

Cape Town shows

Ryan — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 09:57:49 +0000

Last year’s Cape tour was an incredible experience for me personally. We performed in a packed-out 25m² café of wine drinkers. We opened for Plush at the Assembly to hundreds of young boozers. We performed a supper-theatre show for an audience where the average age was 65. And we set up on a verandah in Paarl and performed for a group of orphaned children. Six nights out of seven, and Rudi made it through alive.

That seems a lifetime ago.

For those of you who aren’t as up-to-speed with the RCB, you should know we’re breeding like bunnies here at the moment. The Calders and Hemmeros have produced three new roadies in the past 3 years, and Berto and I are sleep-deprived, cash-strapped daddys.

Jon has gone AWOL to dodge the pursuit of many wild women and has buried himself in a top-secret location to try to finish his Masters thesis.

Rudi, in the meantime, has been delving into the meaning of life on a daily basis while trying to stay warm on the nothern slopes of Maritzburg (where the temperature is -112).

Putting on some acoustic shows in the Mother City.

The good news is some of the RCB will be in Cape Town in August, with a variety of different shows. I’ll be doing some intimate solo and duo shows around town between 9 and 16 August.

I’ll be performing a number of shows with Kenn Gibson, a friend of the RCB who we met last year and have got to know since. I’m looking forward to hustling around Cape Town with him and my other trooper, Matt Allison. You can check out the gigs here: www.ryancalder.co.za/gigs

Hope to see you at the shows!

Fishing with Greg – time-out from reality

Rudi — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 04:06:19 +0000

Everyone at some time or another eventually experiences the kind of stress that incapacitates, where the delightful curveballs that life throw at you evade the cricket regulation catches required to save the ball from crashing into your face. So I was no stranger to the numb effects that came as a direct result of Rudi, like Jack before him, behaving like a dull boy. But even the planning for a downtime necessary to remedy my dire situation would bounce off my cranium like a Brett Lee bouncer.

In steps long time friend and regular agony uncle, Greg, to sell me on a weekend fishing trip to his favourite haunt in Umtinzini. Three days and two nights on the KwaZulu-Natal north coast, just the two guys, free of anything resembling responsibility, decorum or meals that included all the major food groups. The only problem was the two-week time span between accepting this exile to sanity and the delicate condition I was in. That the dogs were already backing away in panic when I got home in the evenings was not a good sign that I would make it to D-day without dismembering a colleague or eating my progeny. So careful conditioning and chemically induced sleep was employed as well as the dismissive, “No problem, I’m on it!” whenever crisis presented itself. With blinkers firmly attached I fixed my sights on what was going to be the last boat to Rudi’s normality.

01:30, Fri morning and I’m anxious to get going. The plans to leave at 02:00 orchestrated by Greg’s iPhone fishing application predicts high tide at 05:00, forecasting the best conditions for fishing in weeks and I have all my kit in the driveway awaiting his 4xTazz, kitted with Rockfords finest filling rattlers. The full moon lighting the night sky & hills of home has me temporarily filled with a reluctance to leave Michelle & the boys behind on this hedonistic exploit, but as Greg pulls in, I remind (convince?) myself that this is as much for them as it is for me.

A quick kiss for the slumbering wife, and we’re off, filled with a boyish excitement that has me resisting the urge to hang out of the windows and wake the neighbours with a western ‘YEEEHAAAAAHHHHH!’. Greg’s playlist includes some 60’s & 70’s great like Golden Earrings Radar Love and more that are escaping a Vietnam movie’s soundtrack with us, and pretty soon we’re gobbling up the miles, sharing the road with a few brave truck drivers avoiding the striking mobs.

It’s not that long when the adrenaline begins to wear off and the lack of sleep introduces me to a fresh game of eyelid tug-of-war while trying to carry stimulating conversation with my pilot. We make good time, getting to the gate a half hour ahead of the Parks boards opening time at 05:00 and we resolve to fight the doziness with a few stretches and strides in the fast receding darkness. The smell of the sea and chorus of alien birds/frogs treats my exhausted consciousness with visions of what the weekend holds. Not only are we here to rescue our battered psyches from certain padded lodgings, but we have also come to relegate into history, my rather embarrassing record of never having caught a fish. So at 38 years of age, I was about to perform a long, long overdue rite of passage.

The main manne wot count: Greg (left) and Rudi.

The magic hour approaches and we realize that the vigilant gatekeepers are warmly ensconced in the gate house, oblivious to our mission. Minutes later, and we are at the expansive estuary amongst the mangroves and Greg manages to setup both his & my kit with rods, tackle and bait in the time it has taken me to minister to the morning libations (fisherman custom, apparently).

A Fish Eagle signals the commencement of the day’s events and, as if on command, fish start jumping randomly which judging by Greg’s excitement is a good thing for us and my cause. So with grim determination, a cast reel in one hand and Tennessee’s finest in the other I prepared myself for fishing nirvana.

Man of the house.

There is something magical about being attached to a large body of water through a fishing line, the anticipation of a catch, the casting out and reeling in becomes symbolic of the ebb and flow of the tides of the mind concealing the activity under its surface which it yields only with a little skill and a lot of patience. The morning yields little to either for the intrepid fisherman and cowed by the fierceness of the morning sun, we retreat to establish a base in the wooded campsite.

Finding a suitable site the 9 sleeper tent proved simple as we were the only campers all weekend, and with camp setup and breakfast greedily despatched a morning nap was my next stop.

What appeared to be moments later, I awoke to a tent doing its best impersonation of a convection oven. An industrious Greg had been out again and caught a sandfish for some lunch, and I kicked myself for a lack of stoicism which had potentially cost me my mission. I became determined that this would not happen again.

What fish wouldn't be lured to this?

So on our next sortie at 5pm, it was all business and bravado, and I was trying to muster the kind of resolve that would lure the fish to commit mass suicide through the sheer force of my will. I was not to be disappointed.

"It was this big!"

With concentration as taught as piano wire in its highest key, I was regularly set off in frenzied action by the merest vibration. Fellow fisherman across from us looked on to what they must have thought was a shoal of starved fish camped in my spot. Then eventually, a tug that did not relent.

“Bru, I think I may have one here…..”

Drawn to the shrill excitement in my voice, Greg ran over to assist me in reeling in my first fish, a beautiful Grunter, weighing in at a massive 250g.

“Well done, cuz. But you have to throw it back. It’s too small.”

Tiger grrr

My vanity was injured for only a little while as I landed another Grunter and then Two Tiger fish in quick succession. Mission accomplished!

The rest of the weekend had the estuary yield nothing else for my hook but did provide excitement in the form of a cloudburst with a mudslide into the tent and did provide the release we were fishing for in the first place. The biggest catch was not the 500g sandfish we had for lunch. It was the peace that we brought home in our unburdened souls.

The detritus of tortured minds were left behind discarded like the unused bait where the ants could have their fill. We leave for Maritzburg, ready for the bite of reality and relishing the next opportunity for an escape.

The Royal Rock Stage

admin — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 11:21:39 +0000

This week’s Caption Competition photograph is supplied by Rudi. Pic was taken while waiting around for soundcheck at the Royal Rock concert 2010.

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Royal Rumble

Rudi — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 08:00:07 +0000

It takes a split second to push through from paralyzing fear into the confidence that makes you step out on stage and try own it. Waiting for the moment when we would kick off the Royal show concert was much like getting wax treatment from a snail with narcolepsy, as the deadline kept being moved back in 10 minute increments to accommodate the sloth like arrival of what would ultimately become the crowd and our audience.

There is only so much one can warm up, cool down & repeat before you get the heebies, but fortunately I was able to bite the trembling lip and get the wobbly knees to take the stage just like the pro’s I had been watching earlier during sound-check. The guys from Watershed & Wonderboom have this rock star brio taped, no shaky confidence for these cats, arriving with a kind of casual indifference I can only muster at Fruit and Veg City.

So far so good as I remember to put on the headphones this time to get the drum cue synced to our animated caricature, ‘Doodle’ to do his dance and kick us off…

…. and then I see it!

The RCB at the Royal Rock concert.

A camera view from behind me, which is a visage of oneself that few are ever prepared to see, never mind be flattered with.

And it is in HD!

Projected onto an enormous cinema screen behind me!

In real time!!

WTH!!??

Suddenly my action becomes wooden & my sticks feel like foot-long wieners. All sense of time & space seem disproportionate to the the insectoid drum feed buzzing in my ears and I’m transported to a dream I had as a child of being on the playground at break time without trousers on…..

“All the world is crashing in…”

…and just as quickly I’m thrust back into the present, the reassuring words of a song we’ve played many times before kicks me into auto and the situation is brought into stark relief. Ignoring the Ogre behind me, I’m able to warm to the set almost instantly and channel the angst into a heedy cocktail of fear and enjoyment. Yeeehaah! What a privilege it is to be scared witless, and love it.

May we never become indifferent to this.

Royal Rock 2010

Ryan — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 11:50:42 +0000

So there we were. Five against 5000. A freezing cold Friday night in Maritzburg. Thanks to BigBeat, we were given the opportunity to perform at the Royal Rock concert – part of the annual Royal Show. On the line up was the Ryan Calder Band, Watershed, City Bowl Mizers and Wonderboom.

RCB rocking the Royal Show

It was quite a different performance for us. From time to time it happens, but screaming teenage girls in the front row is seldom a Maritzburg feature most days of the year. I had wondered beforehand how quickly news would travel, but we never would have anticipated the response to Jon’s sex appeal.

It was only a week ago that Berto announced at our Hexagon shows that Jon is the only single member of the RCB. And six days later, there they were in their droves: thousands of dizzy teenage admirers, screaming their brains out in love-struck wonder at our 6 foot 4 keyboardist.

I must tell you… some nutter, wearing a gigantic 4-foot, 30kg hat, waltzed up to the front row, obstructing the view of those behind him. So an irate student behind the hat took it upon himself to try and dislodge it from the nutter’s head by chucking his shoe at the sculpture. But he must have had a few pints because he missed by miles and sent the shoe hurtling in the direction of the aforementioned keyboardist.

Jonz9r, being the dynamic stage personality that he is, nimbly ducked the flying shoe (George Bush would have been proud) mid-way through a riff and continued unabashed to rock the bras off the adoring minions.

It’s quite a view from a stage that size as well. Inamongst the screaming teenage girls were a few standout faces like our friends Galen Schultz and Kelly Macbean, Michelle Atagana, Linda, Annie, Debbie, Anthea, Jenette (who took the photo above), as well as hooligan groupies Neil du Plessis and Richard Bleeker. Man, those guys are classic – screaming “I love you Ryan!” in pitch-perfect, maniacal falsetto. Inamongst the noise it sounded just like my mom, which was comforting.

Our music was well received by at least six people, who bought new albums. In fact, one of them – Tim from Kokstad – arrived late and caught the last song, which he enjoyed so much that he decided it was good enough to warrant the purchase of On The Edge. Tim, you’re awesome.

By the way, we’re going to be on radio soon. Watch out groupies! News coming soon.

p.s. A VERY BIG thanks to all of you who continue to support us. We’ve been taking attendance registers behind the scenes and you’ll be rewarded with Jelly Babies. Chat to Rudi, he’ll distribute them.

Planning for the Hexagon Theatre

Ryan — Fri, 21 May 2010 12:32:22 +0000

We had a meeting on Saturday. It was scheduled for 8am. Yes, yes, I know, that’s not very rock ‘n roll. I even baked muffins. Seriously. Burnt them a bit, but insisted that on principle the rest of the band eat them. They politely, if uncomfortably, consumed my first attempt at chocolate muffins.

By 8.40am, we’re ready to begin. In attendance are Rudi, Roberto, Rachel Grace and yours truly. Apologies from Tam, who has work commitments, while Jon, we assume, is still slumbering in CT.

On the agenda for this meeting is what we’re gonna sing at the Hexagon Theatre next week. I hand out the proposed setlist. Rudi is happy to see that we have two acts and substantially more songs than yesteryear’s hour-long Better Days Show, while Berto scrutinizes the order of old, new and cover songs. Rachel, in the meantime, is showing off her colouring book to Rudi and crumbling muffins all over the carpet.

The meeting is brief, but never short, as we gab about everything else other than the task ahead, from advances in technology (such as Project Natal) to work-related stresses and headaches. The RCB get-togethers are a strange mix of group therapy and random banter, but for me it’s refreshing hanging around these hooligans.

But there’s a definite plan, and this is going to be one hot new run of shows from the RCB. Next week’s shows will encompass new songs (from On The Edge), old songs (from Better Days) as well as a number of favourites of ours from the likes of Cole Porter, Ben E. King and Chuck Berry. Yes kids, we’re old school. Even Rachel.

We are very ambitious with this new show, and there are just three nights to catch the fun. Hope to see you there.

Trailer: The Ryan Calder Band at the Hexagon Theatre

Caption your funny

admin — Fri, 14 May 2010 09:13:16 +0000

Hey kids… it’s that time of the year again. Time to caption your funnies.

If you don’t know how it works, it’s simple: look at the pic, think of something funny, post it in the comment box below.

Life is short. Laughs are few. Share your funnies.

Herewith the first of 2010…

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Ryan Calder Band Album Production #4

admin — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 10:29:17 +0000

Recording more bits and pieces… piano, keyboard, guitars, vocals…

Ryan Calder Band Album Production #3

admin — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 10:29:13 +0000

Ryan and Rudi still sloggin away, recording drums.