Vagabonds and Broken Hearts
I threw myself on a single bed at the old farmhouse. Pulled off my sweaty clothes and dusty Stetson. The heat stifling. Not a breeze in the air. It's been a long day, a good one, but a long day. I shared the stage with my good friends and we, The Vagabonds , made a beautiful noise. I felt the safety of friends and family and my eyes met the eyes of friendly strangers. We sang our songs and told our stories with a highveld thunderstorm brewing and gathering momentum in the South. Summer in Africa. My home, the place where I was born and the place where they will lay me to rest. (Or maybe even put my ashes in some shotgun shells and shoot me into the wild western sky while listening to John Prine and Joe Ely). Next to the ones that worked this land before me. Four generations of better and stronger men than me. Broken men with many flaws, but men not afraid to admit them and never lacking the humility to extend the hand in apology. Men who tamed this wild land in the face of war, drought, pestilence and now farm murders. I'm the fifth generation and we've been here since 1895. I'm not going anywhere.
I grew up in a place where Yes meant Yes and No meant No. I grew up among people where a handshake was your contract and if someone gave you his word you could bet your life on it. I choose my friends the same way. I do not dabble in idiot compassion and I expect the same. I choose to keep my friendships an inch wide and a mile deep. I know I am flawed and by no means perfect. I do not see the purpose of keeping things from my friends. If they ask I'll tell the truth, whether it is painful or not. In recent years and months I've had the incredible privilege of realising who my true friends are and I'm grateful for them. I also gained the wisdom to distinguish between friends and acquaintances as well as the strength to accept that it's not always on me. I've been through a lot, and it's not done. As the wheels are starting to come off in some aspects in my life I am trying to hold on to dignity, respect and grace. I find myself having to navigate a web of fairweather friends, hurtful gossip and smiles that I don't trust. I realize that what I tried desperately to keep beautiful has been made a joke of and discussed at length behind my back. Everyone seems to have the answers and the solutions except me. Everyone always saw it coming. I'm a firm believer that you get what you deserve in this life and I suppose, I got what I deserved .I gambled on blood. On DNA. Lesson learnt.
The Vagabonds are getting ready for a five night tour in the beautiful Lowveld. Four of us will be loading out and hitting small venues across Mpumalanga armed with songs and stories. Keep an eye on this website and our Facebook page for the dates and venues and join us in the spectacular country of gold rush pioneers, game rangers and storytellers. Jock of the Bushveld territory. I'm excited to get out on tour and share a bunch of brand new songs I've got in the bag. If you'd rather have me play a show in your living room or lapa to you and a few of your friends, hit me up. Drop me a message and I will show up at your door, on time, guitar tuned and ready to share my stories and play your favourite John Barnard songs.
And now as the beautiful Jacarandas are showing off their magnificent purple blossoms I am wishing you love and happiness. I guess I wish you all the best.
"Well I wanted to be an instrument
That life or god could play I guess
Cause music comes from emptiness
When the air is moving through it
So I guess I owe my song to you
You changed me like I asked you to
And now the sound just flows on through
Like I knew that it would do it"
~ Kris Delmhorst ~
JB