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Eddy Says
Eddy Says: Keep the fire burning
By Eddy Temple-Morris | Published on Wednesday 20 October 2010
Malawi is probably not the first destination you think of when planning a long weekend. But then, it’s not every day you’re asked to DJ at a festival on the Malawian banks of one of the African Great Lakes. Come to think of it, I’ve never been asked to do that, but Eddy has, resulting in an emotional few days. Eddy explains…
As I write, I’m sitting on the Piccadilly line train, bound for home at a time when most of you are waiting for your alarm clock to wake you up. My eyelids are heavy, but my heart is filled to bursting. I’ve been to Malawi and back in one long weekend for the Lake Of Stars festival.
I won’t lie: the journey to Malawi feels like you’re in the seventh circle of hell. If you can sleep on planes and other things that move, then you’ll be OK. But I’m kind of old fashioned and like my bed to be stationary and, at the very least, horizontal.
The flight to Nairobi, Kenya is about nine hours straight down, but you leave in the evening, and are expected get your night’s sleep on board. Then you have to wait several hours in a hot, uncomfortable, glass box, for the inevitably late plane to Lilongwe, Malawi to get its shit together.
As I made my way through the security checks in Nairobi, I was attracting unwelcome attention from a surly guard, setting the metal detector off, taking something off, then trying again. The fourth time it beeped I was holding my beltless trousers up with my right hand when the security man probed further.
“What is in your hat?” He asked, sternly.
“My HEAD”, I replied, flatly, and pissed off at being asked stupid questions.
He laughed and waved me through without checking. Stereotypes are not to be believed.
Kenya looked desolate from the airport, and the air. But, as we approached Malawi, things got greener and more colourful. Outside the airport, the roadside was dotted with gorgeous, big trees, covered in bright purple blossom. I later found out these were called ‘Jacaranda’ trees
In front of these magnificent organisms, Clare and I shared cigarettes with and started to get to know our fellow Lake Of Stars travellers. There were lots of magnificently coiffed Noisettes, and their incredible singer, Shingai, who’s like a cross between Grace Jones and Lady Gaga. She’d already pulled off a costume change en route! Sam and the boys from Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly were there, as was Tinashe and his drummer Oliver and Goldierocks, while a random medical team and a few genuine festival punters also shared our transfer.
By this time we’d been travelling, or hanging around in extreme discomfort, all night and half the day, waited an hour an a half for a bus that was supposed to be there in five minutes, and were now faced with a six hour ride to Nkpola Lodge, the Lake Of Stars site. It was ferociously hot, and the seats of this 1970s charabanc were vinyl, really sweaty and so low you couldn’t lean back and pass out unless you were a child or a dwarf.
The drive down was really interesting though, going through villages, like you imagine them to be, clusters of mudhuts, kids playing football in dust, giant termite mounds, great piles of mudbricks drying out under the furnace like sun. And the trees, even the little African shrubs, were magnificent, right up to the Baobabs, giant, biblical looking trees, some of which looked like they could have been alive to witness Old Testament stories.
We arrived at night, so missed the prospect of sunset over Africa’s most beautiful lake. It was now Friday evening, and we’d not slept a wink since Wednesday. I felt for poor Tinashe and Ollie, who had to hold it together for a main stage set at 10.30pm. I wanted to see this but when we found the main stage running late, the wave of tiredness hit us like a lumphammer and we had to retire.
The set up of Lake Of Stars is reminiscent of early Secret Garden Parties, but on the shores of a lake so vast, it is surrounded by beach and looks, to anyone’s eyes, like a sea. We slept for a glorious eleven hours that night and awoke to this incredible vista, and that horrible journey just seemed like an appropriate tax, or dues, in order to get to somewhere this magical.
The festival sprawled along the beach from the lodge we were staying in. Lakeside stage (effectively the second stage and home to most DJs) was right, slap bang on the beach, then the main stage, set back a little, was a few minutes amble down the beach, past little chalets and more phenomenal trees, a food village with barbeques and curries galore. Beyond that was another little acoustic bandstand, a swimming pool, giant chess game, plenty of shade, and a lovely, mixed crowd of Brits, a few Europeans, lots of Malawians and a liberal sprinkling of South Africans, plus Zambians, Nigerians and others from around Africa.
We befriended a pair of travellers, him from Glasgow, her from South Africa, who told us the best thing that happened while we were asleep was Tinashe, on the main stage. They’d come across him by accident, but said he was “amazing” and were going to buy his album as soon as they possibly could. He and Oliver had managed to hold it together, while I succumbed to sleep, and played a blinder.
We hung out, ate delicious local food from the stalls, avoiding the hotel food wherever possible, and met some really interesting people. We made friends with a Malawian filmmaker, perfectly called, ‘Jam’, a charming, erudite and well-educated Rasta, and yet another stereotype shatterer.
Tinashe was there too, so he and I got talking and I discovered his fascinating story; heart-breaking and inspiring in equal measures: Boyhood in Zimbabwe and adolescence in London, rural Africa to concrete jungle, the most intense culture shock and a really heart-warming tale. I felt gutted to have missed Tinashe’s set the day before, and doubly so when he said that would be his only one at Lake Of Stars.
The highlight of Saturday was seeing the choir and band from the local Jacaranda Orphanage. This is the ONLY free school in Malawi, started by an angelic Malawian woman from her own home, after losing her entire family, fourteen people. She is an amazing heroine and it’s now the most famous school in the country.
The kids here were given a few instruments to bang and pluck, and before anyone knew, they’d taught themselves to play, without so much as a lesson, and formed a band. I heard a girl who’d lost her entire family to AIDS sing, and she still had a smile, fuelled by the whoops and cheers of the Saturday afternoon audience on the beach stage where I’d play later.
My set was 2am til 3.30am, before Mistajam. I was thrilled to see his name on the bill. I’m such a fan of his radio show, musically and just as a radio personality, he sounds so flipping nice on the radio that he couldn’t fail to be a lovely man. I was dead excited about meeting him, then doubly so when the Artist Liaison person told me that night: “Mistajam just arrived and he’s asked to try and find you, he’s desperate to meet you!”
“Really?” I said, slightly gobsmacked. “It was ME that really wanted to meet him! I’m surprised he even has a clue who I am?!”
I wondered why he was so keen, in a nice way of course, and really glad it was a two way deal with us. Though our meeting didn’t actually happen until later.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t get in synch with the hordes of people drinking ‘greens’ (Carlsberg Green Label), or stout, or Malawian gin, a delicious, slightly more juniper quality mother’s ruin. I can’t play when I’m pissed, or rather won’t play, because I know it dilutes the experience for those watching. So my Saturday was largely sober, but still very interesting and inspiring. The Jacaranda School students were milling around now, and all had t-shirts that had a hand stencil on the back, that simply said ‘Keep The Flame Alive’. It was so inspiring just sharing a good time with them.
I heard there was as visit to the orphanage the next day, but I was already heartbroken to the point I had to help, so I vowed to get back here and help blag some musical instruments for them and for my new Rasta/filmmaker friend to try to start a school of music. Incredibly there is nowhere, not one place of education, to learn music in Malawi, so we have our work cut out there.
My mission on Saturday night, however, was to catch the headliners, Noisettes, whose entrance was nothing short of spectacular.
The band looked fresh and played tight. Shingai was a total star, a superstar, the way you want your female popstars to be – like the aforementioned Lady Gaga or Grace Jones, someone you can tell is a popstar from a hundred paces. They played well, sounded good, looked slick, good musicians, most gorgeous backing singer ever, and a frontwoman who came across like a deity. But for me, purely personally, it left me just a little unfulfilled.
While it pleased my eyes, my ears, made my hips move and my nether regions twitch at the site of what must be the greatest buns in pop, there was one part of me that remained untouched by it all, my heart. It just didn’t go deep enough for me, at what was becoming a very emotional festival. We went around to the foodstalls after six or so songs, feeling entertained but just a little bit un-moved, even though it was hard not to like the sugary poppiness of it all. They are, it has to be said, very good at what they do, I just wanted MORE, something deeper, something that could reflect the incredible depth of this place.
Later on, my set was such fun. I’d met enough Malawians that day to know they loved to party, and there had been a groundswell for me to hit them with some drum n bass – “We love drum n bass man, we just don’t get enough of it here”. So I happily obliged with almost half my 90 minute set, and the beach kicked OFF! I used a local MC, ACE, who I’d met on the beach the night before, and we both had a blast up there.
At the end, I recognised Mistajam coming up to the booth; I’d seen him drop some weighty bombs on the main stage after The Noisettes. As soon as he clocked me, he started kowtowing. I couldn’t believe it.
“Hang on”, I stopped him. “I was so happy to see your name on the bill cos I wanted to look you in the eye, shake you by the hand, and tell you that you present my favourite Radio 1 show these days!”
“Eddy…” He replied. “I have been a fan of yours for the longest time”.
“Wow man, I’m really chuffed, the show…” I began.
“NO NO NO”, he excitedly interrupted. “I mean the LONGEST time, since MTV days; I used to watch you every day!”
How hilarious, I thought, what a small world. One of the children I was corrupting back then turned out to be Mistajam!!
He played such an enjoyable set, mostly dubstep-rave style but with lovely little touches like Bruce Horsby And The Range’s ‘The Way It Is’ in there, and Bob Marley at the end so we could appreciate the sun rising over a new day that much more.
The next day, Sunday, many of the artists were taken on a trip to Jacaranda Orphanage. I just had the one day left and wanted to cut loose at the festival, I’ve had an emotional few weeks and didn’t want to spend my only day off in floods of tears, so I stayed. Tinashe came back, very emotional, as I knew I would have been if I’d gone, and I heard he was going to play a surprise set at the little bandstand. Yay! We sat down not really knowing what to expect. I’d only played a remix of one of his songs and never heard the album.
Ollie was sitting on what looked like a wooden box, actually a Spanish percussion instrument used in Flamenco and traditional acoustic South American music, Tinashe sang and played guitar. I nearly fell over when that boy started singing. He has the most astonishing voice. So strong, but so tender at the same time. He had a microphone technique that would put almost any singer to shame, I mean ANY singer, and was able to sing PERFECTLY in tune. I mean PERFECTION.
I’ve heard great pitching before, but there’s always going to be one or two notes just shy of perfect, or pushed just a tiny bit too hard. Every single note Tinashe sang,was perfect. There’s no other word I can use. He provided, for me, the one thing that had been missing from The Noisettes headline show. He reached into my chest from behind that microphone on that little stage, and pulled my heart out, gave it a little cuddle, and put it back where it belongs.
Aside from that phenomenal voice and control of it. The simple, stripped down live show exposed these wonderful songs sung and performed PERFECTLY. Tinashe will be a huge star, I have no doubt in my mind. Once you see him play there will be no doubt in yours either.
So really, that little, impromptu set with just Tinashe’s voice and acoustic guitar, plus Ollie’s magic wooden box that thinks it’s a drumkit, provided what I’d been looking for at Lake Of Stars. Something which could capture and embody the beauty, the tragedy, the ecstasy of Malawi. The performance distilled all these things for me, and gave me something deep and mindblowingly good to take home with me.
The Noisettes had a second bite of the cherry soon afterwards, on the Lake stage I’d played the night before. With yet another awesome costume change that made her look like an African Queen, Shingai slunk onto the stage to a rapturous crowd and managed to pull of, what they’d just fallen short of the night before.
Some really lovely moments. They had the Jacaranda Choir singing with them. Guitar player, Dan, had switched to an acoustic and was playing like a musician possessed, and somehow the whole experience elevated. Shingai stalked into the crowd on the beach like an acrobatic panther, weaving her body and crowned head around the gawping revellers, stopping for the flashes and pops of hundreds of cameras all around her, and arching herself backwards, regally. It was quite a moment. Much more real, and soulful that the night before.
My final mission for the weekend was to catch Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly on the main stage. I’d never seen them before and only played their (many) remixes over the years. I didn’t know what to expect there either. I, and everyone within hugging distance was really pleasantly surprised. They delivered punchy grooves, tight basslines and some specially Afro-flavoured touches to underpin or play with and augment Sam’s charming melodies. It was emotional too, Sam had also been very moved by the Jacaranda kids, it’s so hard not to be. We all stayed for the entire set and whooped like loons when it was over.
I’m just giving you a few flavours of what happened, I’ve already gone on too long to tell you about the wild African martial arts troupe, or the dancers, or performance artists. Suffice to say that if you come next year, either as a DJ, a band or a punter, this festival will exceed your expectations. It is a really special, humbling, emotional experience, and that’s what makes it so good.
The best ‘Best Man Speech’ has to make you laugh and cry. The best film should do the same thing. Lake Of Stars has the awesome location, amazing people, even trees that can almost buckle your knees with their awesome beauty, but it’s the sense of tragedy and resilience all around you, which puts everything, your whole life, how you live it, what you do with it, into perspective. Annie Mac called it “soul cleansing”. She’s quite right.
The overriding feeling I get from Lake Of Stars is the love behind it. It’s ‘powered by volunteers’ and therefore powered by love. It’s the same love that goes into The Secret Garden Party, another unique event with exactly the same non-money-making motivation. It’s the love that you can taste when it goes into anything from a risotto to a bloody mary. You put love into these things, and we can taste it, nobody can deny that. If you make the same risotto for money, not love, we can taste that. Not as good. End of. It’s the same with festivals. Love is the key. If you come to Lake Of Stars next year, you will love yourself more and you will love the world more.
If we keep spreading the love, then we will keep the fire burning, and we’ll even make the fire bigger and warmer.
Do more for love.
Keep the fire burning.
www.jacarandafoundation.org
www.lakeofstars.org
eddy x
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