Return to Dunedin, and the Final Show

We were just heading out of Queenstown when my eyelids slumped, and immense tiredness consumed me whole - the kind of tiredness that accumulates over a wild journey across New Zealand, playing punk shows in small venues. Everything faded into the night.

Dreams swirled about like the West Coast myst, roiling and folding and shape-shifting, upturning visions in a strange fashion. I found myself in the Octagon, of all places, five days before the SHEEP tour had even begun, having my near-future foretold by an elderly lady and her talent with tarot. “You will meet a mentor here in Dunedin, somebody you will advance with spiritually.” Her words reverberated in the dream realm, and her eyes sparkled with knowingness. 

Suddenly, I was amongst the roofs of Dunedin, looking down at my new home. Dunedin has a magical way about it. The journey across New Zealand has to mean something. It has to! The Sheep tour… A spiritual journey…? A pilgrimage home... …? 

— — —

The next thing I knew, I woke up on the floor of my room. My Dunedin room. It was skeletal - bare of anything except my keyboards and sleeping bag that was now sprawled over my legs. The floor was hard, and the panels dusty. But despite the discomforts, it was home. After our two-week long journey down New Zealand, we were back.

Rubbing my eyes, I got up and headed out into the lounge. A Click click click sound trailed from the rat cage in the corner, and I shuffled up to it. “Fishy, Mouse! We made it back! What a journey,” I said, pressing my fingers against the cage. Our tiny travel-companions greeted me with excitement, their wee bodies almost wagging in jubilation. After a moment, I realised that it was just the rats and I home. No Toby, no Ethan, no Tommy. “Hmmm, strange. Where are the others?” 

And then, they all came bustling through the front door. “Ah, you’re awake at last!” Toby said. “Yeah I guess I needed the sleep. What’s the time?” Ethan clicked his phone on. “12.45,” he said. “Wow,” was all I managed. That late?! “We’re just about to get the drum kit for tonight’s show,” Tommy announced as he marched into the flat, searching for something. “We can borrow the kit from None Gallery.” He rummaged through some clothes on the floor, and pulled out the keys to the Emerald Wagon. “Lets go.”

None Gallery. An old building in an old part of town, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that it was hiding some kind of secret. We parked the Emerald Wagon just a little bit up the street, and all got out. As we headed towards the building, I glimpsed something very mesmerising and beautiful in the corner of my eye, but continued walking. Wait… What? I stopped abruptly, watching as the others disappeared into the wide door of None Gallery. Was that…? I backed up, for what I thought I had just glimpsed was far too astounding to ignore. Far too magnificent to simply walk by and forget about. 

There in the alleyway, suspended on the wall of the old building, was a mural of five Great Enlightened Beings. It was a wonderful sight; glossy and glowing in the daylight, inspiring a sense of peace and wonder. It was a vision of pure magic, such that I had never seen before. A man was there, holding a paint bucket in one hand, brush in the other, painting it with a calm smile on his face. He stood in front of Lao Zi, the founder of Taoism. I was perplexed, and couldn’t contain the awe that I felt in my heart.

“Wow, this… This is amazing!” I said to the man. He looked at me and smiled. “Ah! I’m glad you like it,” he said, and continued painting. I gestured to Lao Zi. “That is Lao Zi isn’t it? It’s quite strange actually, because, I only recently became interested in Taoism up in Auckland, about two weeks ago. I have an affinity for Ancient Chinese culture.” The man put down his paintbrush and bucket and then clasped his hands. “Wow that’s great! Me too. I practiced Taoism for some time, many years ago, until I found another practice which I’ve been practicing ever since.” He went up to the door next to the mural, disappeared for a moment, then returned holding some pamphlets. He handed me one, and I accepted it graciously.

“It’s called Falun Dafa,” he said in a voice of reverence. I unfolded the blue pamphlet as he told me a little bit about it. “The Great Way of the Universe. It’s an ancient Qigong practice originating in China, for cultivating the heart and mind. In our practice, we follow the highest principles of the universe: Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance.” I simply had no words. “Oh, I’m Tommy Thomas by the way!” The man chuckled and extended out his hand. I shook it, wonderingly. “It’s lovely to meet you! Thanks so much for this.” I held up the blue pamphlet. He nodded and smiled. “My number is in there. Give me a call if you’re interested in Falun Dafa. I’ll let you know when and where we practice.” Tommy picked up his paintbrush again. “Catch you later!” He said, and resumed painting. 

Behind me, Toby, Ethan and Tommy came lugging the drum kit up the street, and began offloading it into the Emerald Wagon. “Sweet,” Tommy said, shutting the boot. “Glad we sussed the drum kit. Now, let’s go to the Attic, and start setting up for the last show!” We all hopped into the Emerald Wagon, and drove off down the street. I sat in the back in shock and amazement, reading the blue pamphlet again and again. It really happened! It wasn’t just some fantasy. That must be him. That must be this mentor I’m to advance with spiritually. I have found it! Suddenly, my Kung Fu origins, journey to China, and discovery of Taoism all made sense. I looked out the window at the streets of Dunedin, at the buildings, and the beautiful green hills behind them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. "It's unbelievable!" I exclaimed. "Dunedin is a magical place!"

THE SIXTH AND FINAL SHOW: THE ATTIC, GEORGE STREET, DUNEDIN

On George Street, there is a door, unseen by the common passersby. Through it we went, arms heavy with music gear, up and up the wooden stairs. We eventually found ourselves in the attic of the old Dunedin building. Beams of light were slanting in through the cracked windows, and dust spurred as we put down the music gear.

The Attic. For the final show of a NZ tour? I couldn’t think of a better venue even if I tried. It was perfect for the homecoming show. The climatic performance. I strolled around, just appreciating the space for what it was, imagining the show that would bring the place to life that night. We had a cranker of a gig lined up: SHEEP, The Rothmans, and Koizilla. Tonight is going to be off the chain! I thought. “Hey Josh,” Tommy said, coming up behind me. “Do you want to do a piano set?” I turned, surprised. “Yeah, uhh, sure!” I didn't expect that. “Sweet,” he said walking through the lobby, gesturing for me to follow. “I reckon you could just set up here, and play some tunes for when people are arriving.” He showed me to a corner in the passing-through room. 

So, I was added to the line up too: Joshua St Clair. I had suspected that the journey was as much for ‘Joshua St Clair’ as it was for SHEEP, after playing the piano in Nelson and Kumara, and jamming keyboards in the Queenstown jam. It seemed quite fitting. I turned to Tommy. “The final show aye,” I said musingly. He nodded. “G. It’s gonna be FULLY MINT!”

And so there I was as the night descended upon Dunedin, perched in the corner behind my Casio Px5s, laying down some of my jazzy numbers as folks arrived to the final show, the ‘Singles party’. I played casually, as if I was busking, but just in a dusty old ramshackle room. I suppose it was my first ever piano performance in Dunedin. There’ll be lots more to come I thought as my fingers whipped and cracked over the keys. Really, it was just warm up for the real performance.

The first band up was Koizilla, and they launched into their set with no hesitation. The crowd rippled with their music as it blasted the insides of the Attic, brought it alive and buzzing. The wooden floorboards rattled in the wild hum as Koizilla pulled out fast-paced song after fast-paced song, enlivening all in attendance. A colourful light display hovered above the band, circulating with as much tenacity as Koizilla, illuminating the scene with a feeling of magic. I was right in the heat of the crowd, tugged left and right, rammed in the side, swayed, consumed by the music. Excitement was flourishing within me - excitement to be one of the ones behind the instruments, sending ripples of deep bass rumble through the wooden beams above, and the bones of the Dunedin folk who had come.

It seemed to happen all too quickly. Maybe it was the few beers that were already swimming in my system. I realised that I forgot to find myself a stand for my Korg R3, so I frantically rummaged through the cluttered rooms of the Attic searching for something of the right height. There were amps far too short, and broken stools too wobbly. Tommy and Toby were already setting up. Ah bugger it. I reached for a short wooden box - a cohone - and took it to the stage. It was low. Quite low. But what the heck. It didn’t matter if I was hunched this show. In a hot-headed excitement, I plugged in my lead, powered my synth, and prepared the bass to just the right temperature. 

Our final performance carried all the craziness and excitement of the whole tour. It was the epitome of our journey as a band, the accumulation of all that we had experienced down the country. All that pain I felt from my boil - and still felt - I lurched into the music. All that tension, drama, and discord between us, we spat into the music. All of the ridiculous antics, we embodied in the final thrash. I unlocked manic-mode from the first song, crouching and head-banging, watching Tommy watching me, syncing with Toby and perfecting the sound and the energy we were absolutely capable of, certainly now after having played these same songs over and over for the past 2 weeks. The crowd was as wild as a beehive that had been tampered with. Through the music, we achieved some kind of unity - band and audience, throbbing as one. The Attic - a living being.

In that final thrash, fuzzy as it was, there was no denying that we loved performing. All three of us. But Tommy - he’s a genius. No matter how deep my bass rumbled, or how nifty my little synth tricks were, they were no match for Tommy’s stage mojo and guitar skills. His presence is unmatched. It’s like an inescapable vortex, an enigma. Tommy is SHEEP. He is the heart of the band, and the madman behind it all. It was an honour and an absolute blast to be his bassist, particularly in the wild statement that was the final show of the tour.

                                           

I felt surprisingly calm when it was all over. Even as the Rothmans took to the stage with their ruthless performance, I was entranced by a wonderful feeling of completeness. Maybe it was post-performance euphoria. That's a thing. But this feeling went even beyond that. Being right amidst the frenzy of the crowd - battered by the Rothmans as if their music was a high storm surging from the amps - and I still wasn't knocked out of that state of bliss. Outwardly, I was throwing myself about, enjoying the rampaging music with the rest of the gig-goers. But within, I was expressing deep gratitude for the SHEEP tour as a whole, for what it was, and how it all ended. 

This was our tour’s last breath as a neat little adventure in our lives - this moment in the Attic. Through music and good company, we came to Dunedin. It seemed like I found myself quite naturally in the heart of this thriving city, in an awesome community which has been alive and well for a long time. ‘The Dunedin Sound’ they call it. 

(All photos and videos of the gig 'Singles Party' are credit to Dunedinsound. 
Check it out here: https://dunedinsound.com/gigs/singles-party/ . Also, we did an interview. Find that here: 
https://dunedinsound.com/blog/an_evening_with_sheep_and_some_expired_chips/ )

— — —

A few days later, Ethan returned to Wellington where he lived. And the day after that, Toby travelled back to Melbourne where he was now based. Our epic little chapter together had done its dash, and we went our seperate ways. It was just Tommy and I left, there in our dingy flat on Moray Place, with Fish and Mouse darting about the few pieces of furniture we had. It was a bit sad, really. We just sat on the couch in silence on the days our friends departed, not really knowing what to do. I sighed, and went to my room. The solution to my problem was there.

There on my keyboard sat the blue pamphlet. The treasure at the end of the journey. I smiled as I read the name out loud. "Falun Dafa!"