Alex Sudheim Live in Durban
For the aspirant rock band on the quest for gold and glory, the struggle to emerge from the Dread Swamp Of Indifference – aka Durban – is one of the most daunting challenges it must face.
Yet the aptly-named Mud Puppies approach the task with heroic resolve, despite having to strut their stuff in The Winston hotel, a Durban band’s equivalent of the Augean stables.
While Hercules shovelled the shit of a thousand horses, The Mud Puppies confront the equally unenviable task of exciting an audience of six drunk locals and one cynical Canadian. And when your live act consists of a physically and sonically explosive performance castrated by a sludgy sound system and poor acoustics, its hard not to appear a trifle pathetic.
Our condescending Canadian is thus amused in a way Queen Victoria may have been by a prancing savage, and refers to the band as “amateur angst merchants”, or something like that. These North Americans have a knack for making one feel ashamed by the apparent unsophistication of the culture in these parts, so of course I give her what-for and stick up for the local lads.
This particular Canadian hails from Toronto, the city which bred the grainy genius of Hayden, whose intense, shimmering songs are the last word in lo-fi. Yet I wonder if Hayden would have become a revered international cult icon had he cut his teeth on the Durban music scene.
I imagine he might also be playing to a handful of souls at the Winston Hotel, his glory forever in shadow. The infrastructure here is just so non-existent, what with only two or three venues in town providing a stage for untried talent; the locals only coming out in their droves for Just Jinger and the Nude Girls and the record companies ignorant of the concept of an A&R division.
But it’s a moot point which can be argued until the cows come home, so we’ll just leave it at that for now.
As for The Mud Puppies, tonight’s gig might not be their shining hour, but the band are hardened to the realities of life in the oxygen-starved world of the South African music biz.
Where lesser men might have crumbled, the Mud Puppies stuck to their guns and went into the studio to record a nine-song demo album.
Produced by Squeal’s David Birch, Bomb is a remarkably assured work for a debut. Showcasing the band’s flair for full-tilt indie rock, the album also exposes a slower, more intense side, where singer/songwriter Craig Wiltshire exhibits a fondness for experimentation and formula-warping that allows the music to transcend easy genre-classification.
Berea is an irony-laced anti-ballad about Durban’s classy suburbs and their quaint British heritage, while Bomb is gentle pop until it literally detonates.
Then there’s the burned-out ska of Big Smile; the menacing Beast and the headlong rush of Buzz’ard to secure the album a respectable level of depth and diversity.
For my money, The Mud Puppies are a talented and unique band with a charismatic lead singer who writes pretty cool songs, but whether or not that’s enough to buy them a ticket out of Obscuresville remains to be seen.