Nymfo: Characters (Commercial Suicide) album tour at Science Frikshun
14 July 2012. Town Hall. Newtown. Johannesburg
When it was announced that Dutch Drum n Bass giant Nymfo would be gracing our gritty streets as part of the international tour promoting his new LP entitled “Characters”, I was completely unsure what to expect. Having never given the guy’s music a serious listen, I had no idea what his sound was like and what he was capable of. So, before making my humble way in a taxi towards the towering mass that is the city of Johannesburg, I made sure to listen to some of his tracks so I could prepare myself for the carnage that was to ensue. However, now that it’s all over, all I can say is that no amount of preparation could ever have possibly geared me, or anyone, up for the devastation that was experienced by all. Huge respect and thanks to everyone involved, especially Nymfo and the label he’s signed to, Commercial Suicide. A special big-ups (only naturally) to Roan RudeOne, Science Frikshun, and the dedicated Frikshun Street Team. We all owe a lot to you guys.
An icy wind rips its way forcefully through the gritty streets and concrete alleyways that make up our glorious Newtown. Carr Street is vibrating with some sort of unseen jolting electricity, and insanity is building in the air around me. My fingers are numb as I take a drag of a cigarette to calm my nerve and, as I exhale, the thick clouds of smoke are whisked away into the night sky.
The line of freezing bodies grows steadily in front of Town Hall, and on each and every face I see the same look. It is the look of a person who knows they are about to experience something intergalactic, something seemingly unreal. It is the look of a mind that knows it is soon to be hammered into new shapes and forms by the churning forge it is about to enter. It is the look of a soul about to soar. I’m talking, naturally, about the look of insatiable excitement that possesses any Jo’burg basshead in those delicious moments leading up to the nuclear release that is Science Frikshun.
Tonight, however, is no ordinary night. Tonight, it’s Nymfo!
The doors open and one-by-one we’re ushered inside to get our wristbands. Even inside it is still ridiculously cold.
King Rat steps up to the plate, ready to take this party to its next level. With MC Bland Tim yelling ranting encouragement at the crowd, the Royal Rodent himself rocks the crowd too and fro with swinging beats and smooth yet aggressive bass sounds.
The ocean of writhing bassheads has now grown to critical mass, and their non-stop bounce brings the heat near to boiling point. The cold, having realised the futility of battling this scorching fire, now remains outside. My face is shaped and re-shaped by the rolling music into various expressions of pleasure, and the sweat begins dripping from my face. As things start really kicking in, I feel the walls of Town Hall shuddering and groaning under the sheer weight of quaking Drum n Bass sounds. Massive!
By the time King Rat is done, I’m no longer sure where it is that I find myself. Is this even planet Earth anymore, or have we been transported to some far-away realm where magic is real? The looks on the faces around me mirror my thoughts. No one really knows where they are right now, and they don’t care either. All they care about is one man: a monstrous force of precision-driven musical madness. A man called Nymfo.
At first a distant rumbling, growing rapidly into a thunderous, pummelling rhythm, it’s time! With an almost calm and composed air, the bass creature sends out wave after rolling wave of pure orgasmic cosmic insanity. Ultra-dense velocities collide explosively in a boiling bubbling vibration, sending the sea of bodies reeling in ripples of sonic intensity. Hammering breaks echo out across the cavernous space, followed by squirming bass drops and massive breakdowns.
Nymfo. Science Friskhun. Town Hall. If you’re not here, then you’re nowhere. Period.
A blast of pure white light illuminates the nearly-alien being on stage. He raises his hands in appreciation to be met by the almighty roar of our voices. The ground crunches and reverberates under my feet, the very concrete seemingly remoulded by his vociferous sounds. At this point words fail me as I am transported to a reality where music is the only language, and dance the only expression. To say that Nymfo changed lives in that time would be the greatest understatement of this century, he changed the very substance of the world around us.
Science Frikshun godfather RudeOne has long been revered as a DJ who never disappoints. Needless to say, as he takes his place at the decks the electric current flowing amongst his dedicated followers is thick and buzzing and alive.
Let it just be said that to follow an act like Nymfo can be no easy task, and that the pressure would probably get to even the most iron-willed individual. Rudeone, however, makes it look effortless.
Throwing down exactly the sounds we need to take this madness to the brink, splintering break-neck jungle beats and heavy dub breaks, he pumps the crowd with endless music. The authorities ask him to calm it down, or preferably stop, but to no avail, the momentum is uncontrollable at this point. Every now and then the King of Town Hall pretends to comply, slowly bringing the music down to a near-stop only to drop that maddening bass right back in, sending spasmodic shudders of delight down the spines of the jumping heads.
The seconds seem like many long minutes, and the minutes feel like wonderfully drawn out hours. We all know that it can’t last forever though, and at 4am the authority switch the master off, bringing it all to a shuddering halt. The crowd is left screaming for more, but satisfied with their fill of delicious music. One by one we all filter out back into the streets and into the cold we can no longer feel, our very bodies being so saturated with the warmth of Drum n Bass.
When I eventually get into bed at 7am, I can still hear the persistent ticking of the drum and the grinding workings of the bass in my stomach. Slowly, oh so slowly, they rock me into a dream-filled slumber where the party still continues. And yes, the party does continue.
Words by Jasper Shepherd Smith
Pictures by Trigger Monkey Photography
