The Creek in Cradock!

So my old mate Rod Dry from the Silver Creek Mountain Band phones me up late last year.

“Hey bro. We’re coming down for Christmas, playing in Bathurst. Any chance of a gig in Cradock? We don’t need much. Gas money will do.”

Great. Rod has to pick a time of year when all our neighbours, our little posse, have ducked for the coast. All that’s left in Cradock is us and the packs of pets we have to look after. Do dogs like bluegrass enough to pay at the door? I don’t think so.

So I tell him. I don’t think we’re going to raise much of an audience. Do we have a room? Sandra Antrobus, owner of the legendary Victoria Manor downtown, offers her function room to the Creek. It’s massive. Who’s going to fill it?

In steps The Connector, her daughter Lisa. No worries, says Lisa. We’ll track down the stragglers and tell all the people staying over at the hotel. It will be all right on the night. I tell Rod.

So they drive down in their beat-up Combi, with the sawn-off Beetle cab on top. As they arrive in Market Street, a curious local asks about the bubble on the Combi.

“That’s for when the dwarf wants to drive,” says Rod, rolling a smoke and keeping a straight face.

Rod, JP and Shugg have all been given hotel rooms, with TV and air conditioning. It’s so hot outside I’m wondering if they’re going to make it to the gig. I worry too much.

Show Night rolls around. Jules and I visit the venue. Apart from a dazzling array of white ostrich feathers, it looks like a conference facility. Who’s going to get down and funky in here? Surely not the Silver Creek?

I worry too much. The crowd of locals (those who are taking their vacation in January) trickles in. The first number kicks off and everyone’s watching them, taking in the double bass, the millions of miles on Rod’s face, Shugg’s crazy hair and JP’s rather daunting glare. Uh oh. I’m worried.

Good applause. The second song gathers more clapping. By Song #3, the audience is fully behind the Silver Creek. The hotel guests filter in from supper and the party starts. You must know: the awesome and long-lived Silver Creek normally play in bar venues, where everyone’s drinking and being loud. This time they’re being seriously listened to.

“We haven’t had that in 30 years,” raves Rod, selling Creek T-shirts and CDs hand over fist during the break. The show ends after midnight with a standing ovation for the Silver Creek Mountain Band. Cradock people come and slap me on the back and thank me for bringing such a fine band to the little river town in the Karoo. I worry no longer. Where’s the Jammies?

Three weeks later, Rod phones. The band loved the Cradock gig so much they want to play here again. Here we go. I begin worrying. Isn’t it just too soon? Lisa Antrobus waves away my fears and hooks them up with Pieter over at Mila’s Restaurant, that delicious hangout in Durban Street.

But where, oh where, will they play? Certainly not outside, they just have too much gear. And inside? Mmm. Cramped, I’d say. Rod and Piet put heads together and make a plan. It’s gonna happen inside.

The night comes. About 30 party animals arrive and fill the place. The band is hot. Suddenly, Derek Carstens and his lady Renee Silverstone get up from the table and begin to dance. Everyone goes crazy. It’s like a Mexican cantina on Free Tequila Night. They stamp their feet, they clap, they beg for more and yes, there’s that damned standing ovation again.

Well, the upshot of it all is I think Rod and the Silver Creek have fallen in love with Cradock. And I think Cradock digs The Creek. And I know they’re been looking at a bit of local real estate during their downtime. Uh oh. I think I need to be very worried…

PS: Rod Dry, the leader of the Silver Creek Mountain Band, is officially the only guy I personally know who has a statue of himself standing in the public place. Up in Polokwane is a large statue of a group of boere musiek players done by sculptor Joe Roos. Rod – as you can see – is the inspiration for the double bass man…

Pix by RYNO FERREIRA & CHRIS MARAIS