Early twothousands. My cousin who lived abroad paid us a visit and went to a summer festival with one of our older cousins. I was 15 years old and had no idea what a festival was. I heard them talking about camping gear and I thought it must have had something to do with that yearly mysterious stuff in HUMO magazine about Torhout-Werchter. At that point, the best alternative music I knew was probably Within Temptation - I remember being extremely pissed off when they suddenly became popular. Little did I know that bands tended to get on stage to give all they got to an excited crowd of music lovers. I guess I thought that bands just made albums and that the luckiest ones could get on the radio, on MTV or on 'Tien Om Te Zien' (an awful nineties pop music TV show).

Lucky for me, the cousins forgot two albums they had just bought on our kitchen table. "Always" by The Gathering and "The Knowing" by Novembers Doom. Of course I gave them a spin in my room which was covered in sad poems and wall posters of handsome couples and general teenage angst. Of course I quickly copied them to a CD-R before giving them back, because what I had just heard was pure magic.

Especially "The Knowing". This album always stayed close with me, in my walkman (yes, I'm from the tape generation), in my tiny CD collection, and a few years later in my Winamp and in my supersonic CD-RW-MP3 player - better safe than sorry! It's possible that I've listened to it several hundreds of times. "The Knowing" somehow got me through my worst moments like the break-up with my boyfriend, quitting university, failing my record store, getting hair-raising registered letters, you know the drill. And after two decades, it still does the trick. I just got some bad news and ran to our wall-covering CD collection for something agressive to accompany me while doing the dishes. There they were: my CD-R and an official version.

It must have been more than five years ago that I listened to "The Knowing" but every note, every word, every rhythm switch, every hit on the drums laid fresh in my memory to be sung, hummed or whistled along. This album has such an intensity. It could have been my age when I first discovered it; it's scientifically proven that you'll always prefer the music that you listened to when you were an adolescent. It could have been the concept of the album. It could have been the excellence of the musicians or my love of the genre.

But I blame it on a particular memory. Who can say that they've given their favourite band a place to stay for the night? I can. Paul and his missus had to book a hotel room because of his bad back, but Serge and I drove the entire band to Antwerp after the first time I saw them live in Vosselaar. We chatted about the album and music and other stuff, it's quite vague but the happiness I felt was extremely seldom in those dark days when I owned that record store and Serge co-owned a place for acoustic gigs like Novembers Doom was going to do the next day. I don't remember much from that gig either, but that's okay. I learned from one of the band members that "The Knowing" is not about lovesickness but about a guy who receives the gift of immortality. Knowing that, the lyrics make a lot more sense, but that's okay. This album will always remain the best catharsis within reach for me. I just wanted to share that with you and I hope you also have an album that you can consider a very old and close friend.


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But I've been doing some listening to music that has been released before 2017. For the first time in my life, for example, I listened to Pink Floyd's 'Dark side of the moon' while doing nothing else but reading the lyrics in a karaoke way or sitting with my eyes closed. Of course I had heard tons of songs by Pink Floyd before, mostly in our day-to-day playlist, and when I was a teenager I only knew their 'Wish you were here', which I must have played about a thousand times. I also listened to CHVE's 'Rhasa' in 2017, Mike Oldfield's 'Ommadawn' and one of my all-time favourites, 'Discovery'. Bonobo's 'Black Sands' and Tangerine Dream's Stratosfear'. And to the few albums that I reviewed. And there this tiny list already stops.

Maybe that is the reason why I haven't written write many reviews yet: I think it's your duty as a reviewer to focus all of your attention only on what comes out of your speakers or headphones. No checking out info on the band or trying to find an intro, no conversations or social media or reading or walking in and out of the room while doing chores, no daydreaming or worrying or contemplating, nothing: just stay where you are and consume the music. It is as simple as it is almost impossible. Yes, I can listen to albums in public transport or while walking, but even though I have very good headphones, I still partially focus on the road, the landscapes that pass by, the book I'm reading, what the other people are up to or what my mind is yapping about. That is not 100% attention, that is not listening in the right sense of the word. It took me more than two years of mindfulness practice to be able to listen to music.

And it pays off. I hear new aspects in songs that I already knew by heart. I transform into the feeling that the artist has put in there. I truly appreciate their hard work. I am in the moment. Maybe that's why I'll focus on concerts that I've seen in 2017 for the rest of this article, because at a concert it is much easier to focus on the music alone - if the audience would read and apply
Serge's guidelines for concerts, that is.

And do you know who is responsible for my new ears? Cecilia, the old soul in the body of a young lady, protagonist of Serge's debut 'Cecilia's World'. I'll insert a small break while you go and buy that book: 


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There you go. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did editing it and re-reading it. Because I don't want to favour one of the headlights of 2017 above the others, I'll go through some mind-blowing concerts I went to in order of appearance. There have been concerts too with me in the audience but me not being there. I had a shitload of shit going on in my head and I had to invent a plunger. And I missed 2/3 of Dunk! festival due to illness, unfortunately.

In January we went to Mol. Opener of the evening was Sitka, and in October we saw Ben perform live again. Sitka brings us lovely drone ambient and we heard him evolve this year. Then came Stratosphere and the same goes for Ronald: we saw him multiple times and we were pleasantly surprised by the evolution his excellent ambient tunes have gone through. After Stratosphere the two metal bands just didn't do the trick for me and then came Ashtoreth. We saw Peter perform too in April, two times, and not two of his concerts are the same. Ashtoreth is the master of meditative drones for me. January also brought Primordial to Antwerp, together with some other bands I can't remember. Primordial, heroes of my confused adolescence, bringing pure pagan black power, what an awesome gig. And they brought a lot of early work too, a very pleasant surprise.

In April we saw a lot of Ashtoreth and Stratosphere, one time they did an improvisation session together which also was memorable. This was the first time we went to living room gigs and we enjoyed that concept very much. And there was Kuro. Kuro! They brought top shelf drone jazz and I liked it from the very first notes.

May is Dunk!Fest month. Due to circumstances mentioned above, Mooncake, CHVE and Barst are the concerts I remember best. Dunk!Fest is awesome. And so are these three bands. In June we saw Chelsea Wolfe and Moon Duo in Antwerp. Moon Duo kicks ass. Go see them when you can. July brought us a day of Gent Jazz festival with two top acts: Archive and Einstürzende Neubauten. Man, those were awesome concerts. Thanks to Belgian railways we had to leave after only a few songs by Einstürzende Neubauten but it was totally worth the trip.

In September we went to see Bohren & Der Club Of Gore in Antwerp. This was the most emotional musical evening for me, a bit of a catharsis. And were they good! A German father and his two sons (or so they claim), all multi-instrumentists, bringing the best dark jazz there is. 

And in October it was time for the first musical evening Serge had organized in years. Sitka, Stratosphere and Lord Kesseli and the Drums performed in Antwerp. It was a magical night, one to never forget. Check out Lord Kesseli and the Drums.

In November we went to Brussels for Bonobo. Awesome sound, awesome performance, awesome atmosphere. I loved every minute of it. A few days later there was another living room concert where debuting drone artist Urall convinced me of his capabilities, Stratosphere did the best gig of the year and Thisquietarmy did awesome things as we are used from him.

Closer of the year were Angels Die Hard, highly energetic psychedelic rock with synths, and O Yuki Conjugate who toured for the first time in a very long while. I was baffled by their set. Also extremely memorable. 

Thank you to all of these artists, all of the organizers and helpers, all of the Merchants Of Air readers. And all the best for 2018.



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Although this film has won a fair share of awards, I'm sure it hasn't been seen by enough people. So here's a review. 

Have you ever heard of Doel? It translates as purpose, goal, target or meaning and that's one of the reasons why the story of Doel is heartbreaking. Doel is a small village near Antwerp, on the left bank of the river Scheldt, at walking distance from our nuclear power plant. The harbour of Antwerp on the right bank has been expanding since, let's say, the year 1200 and it has a rich history. Nowadays it's the second largest harbour of Europe. To compress recent history in one sentence: this harbour likes villages for breakfast. In the 1960s four villages in the north have been devoured after an extremely brutal session of Belgian expropriation politics - some dead-end roads and the upper parts of two church towers patiently witness of what is no more. One of them just stands amidst the containers, can you imagine? The other tower top, more findable, arises from a field of grass on a corner of two streets that can't handle all the road traffic. If you stand here amidst the noise and gasping for some oxygen, in vain, feelings of misanthropy assail you like famished lions - if you have a heart or give a shit, at least. This is the reason why I've never visited Doel, seeing it just might add the last drop in my bucket... But I've been wanting to watch 'De Engel van Doel' (The Angel of Doel) for a long time now, and there it was, in the library. And I saw Doel, and the bucket overflowed indeed. At this moment, writing this review is the only remedy for this state of mind. I hope you can handle watching better than I did, but this thing really is a must-see. Why? I'll tell you later.

"Docks!" this harbour has been screaming since, according to wiki, 1550. "Locks! More docks and more locks, more, more, more, for larger container ships so we can import and export more stuff than we could ever imagine! Even more docks and locks in the years to come, larger, deeper, oh man, we're such a proud city! We say that we create jobs so we believe that the people have no other option than worshipping every fart we let. Meanwhile, let's fill our time by counting our money and by looking forward to getting even more money. Moneeeeeey!!!" (insert Pink Floyd tune)

That money's not even yours, you bunch of cunts. Keep your yaps shut for once, wipe those reports you never read anyway off your desk, along with those bottles, whores, drugs and piles of money. Listen to what John Public, poor and unhealthy because of you, has to say. Learn by watching 'De Engel van Doel' for example, in your big-ass mansion with your loved ones. I wonder whether you are capable of loving, I really wonder.

Anyway, to continue our little history lesson, since the 1990s the left bank of the river Scheldt also got gnawed by the hungry beast. The harbour started nibbling on Doel.

The film maker has followed Emilienne between 2006 and 2011. She's an older widow living in Doel. As the years go by, so do her neighbours and friends. They're pestered out of their houses by official Kafkaesque letters. Politicians give false hope, very well aware that they're lying, as usual. Emilienne doesn't want to move - don't replant an old tree, as a Flemish saying goes. She also doesn't want to participate in the protests organised by left-wing young people, maybe because she knows that those are just drops of water on a red hot plate - another saying, sayings have a lot to say. The elderly priest has cancer and is unable or unwilling to give what's left of his herd false hope. He knows. They all know. Resistance is futile, the stomach of the harbour is growling, and money makes the world go round. 

The film has a very welome slow tempo and the scenes are filmed by a steady camera. The colour is grey. Luckily there's subtitles, also in English, because you have to know the dialects to fully comprehend what's being said. Not a single event gives the impression of being acted, what you see is very probably what has happened. John Public in his natural habitat, the last drop being pressed out of the lemon, and you're standing in the middle of it.

In one scene, Emilienne's dog appears at the kitchen table. He must feel what she feels: it really is over now. His eyebrows move up in a try to get her attention, only to let her know: "I'm here for you, no matter what." She does not react to him, because she's in a discussion with a friend about the letter on the table. The morning after, she refuses to accept the same letter - this time it's registered - from the mailman. "I am staying anyway." He refuses to have a seat and a cup of coffee because he's too busy. "Young people, (grand)children included, are too busy", says Emilienne's best friend while they're peeling beans or something at the kitchen table. She's right. A demolishing crane drives at the town, seen from the broken window of one of the long-abandoned homes. Another house bites the dust. In the middle of the street, there's a donkey eating hay and wearing a banner that goes "(name of politician), you're a shame to my race". Emilienne's last friend doesn't want to say goodbye because she doesn't want a tear jerking party. Emilienne and I cry our eyes out, she's all alone on her doorstep and I'm on the sofa. My cat tries to get my attention just to let me know: "I'm here for you, no matter what." I do not react to her because I'm looking for a handkerchief and want to know what happens next, but I appreciate the gesture. There's a lot we can learn from the animals.

According to Einstein, the injustice in the world doesn't exist because some people commit it, but because most people just look away. 

Food for thought.



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