Dog Days Aren't Over: A Pearl Amid the Havoc

Photos and Column by Brode Voigt

Sept. 24, 2026 – Here are two truths and a lie; OJ Simpson is innocent, Savannah was the stage for a 30-year musical reunion, and I convinced a well-intentioned man to drink Malört with me at the Pearl and the Oysters / W.I.T.C.H. show last Friday.

The recent run of Dog Days events has left my weekend a hazy blur (and my SD cards bloated). But it seems the city is still riding the tide of this summer’s Dog Days Fest, and turnout from the first two of four events has left me exhausted, I mean excited for what’s yet to come.

So for both our sakes, let me do my best to recall everything that went down before the afterparty.

At 6 p.m., on Friday, Sept. 18, I started my walk over to Starland Yard to watch psych pop band Pearl and the Oysters, and the classic Zamrock act W.I.T.C.H. (an abbreviation that narrowly beats their formal title “We Intend to Cause Havoc”). I made it a point to meet and chat with Juliette and Jojo of Pearl about their history with Savannah.

Surprisingly (to me, who historically doesn’t pay enough attention), this wasn’t their first time playing here. El Rocko had previously introduced their synth pop to a suspiciously young crowd of Fake IDs and Vodka-Redbulls. After a few years, it’s nice to see that both Rocko’s and Pearl have seen improvement; Pearl’s locked down their sound, and Rocko’s locked up its doors.

After talking with Pearl, I spun around to chat with W.I.T.C.H.’s Jagari Chanda, Kabanga Jones, and two strangers. Now being that we still had an hour before doors opened, I assumed the two people with them were part of management or some important position. They weren’t exactly, but two things can be true; I’m not funny, and I won’t stop trying. But an iPhone photoshoot with the band and two strangers would prove to be more significant than I thought.

Pearl and the Oysters were on first. I had expected quality akin to an alright Aperol Spritz, but found their performance was a MDMA-laced Cosmopolitan: keyboards and bouncing riffs beautifully accented with a sparkling chime. All things sure to get a rise out of the psychedelic space cadet crowd Dog Days has adopted; the same type who’d offer you and your significantly younger brother mushrooms at a Billy Strings show.

Regarding Pearl, here’s two pieces of advice:

One: despite sharing an audience, they are not to be confused with the equally psychedelic mollusk band “Shannon and the Clams” (which I thankfully remembered).

Two: never try to offer audience insight to a performer, especially in a city filled with self-conscious 20-somethings.

Before the show, I told Juliette to mention Rocko’s closure thinking it’d pull a great reaction, and she unfortunately took my advice. It was only as the crowd listened respectfully that I realized most of the people who knew what El Rocko’s was were working the bar.

After Pearl’s opening set I was found by the proprietors of my high-class iPhone shoot; Dr. Prince F.M Lamba, and his wife. He wanted to make sure he had a way of getting the photos I had taken on my camera earlier. So, after begrudgingly realizing the only message app we had in common was WhatsApp, we got to chatting about his life.

Originally from Zambia, Dr. Lamba told me he shared a history and friendship with Jagari that spanned careers and decades. In the 1970s, Zambia was riding a new wave of music and culture; independence was fresh, and radio quotas allowed local artists to shine without the shadow of the British invasion. By joining rock trends with Zambian tradition, W.I.T.C.H. was able to dominate everything from radio to local events, where Prince informed me he was a winning dancer and musician with the (annoyingly hard to research) Amayenge Band.

He and Jagari would share stage and community, until the late 1980s pushed them both to pursue education and leadership in the Zambia Adjudicators Panel. Without Jagari, W.I.T.C.H. faded from prominence, and would remain there until 2011. A new interest in Zamrock brought W.I.T.C.H. back into the spotlight, eventually leading him to assemble a new, altered lineup in 2012. All the while, Dr. Lamba was working with the Zambian Department of Arts and Culture.

It wasn’t until this year at Starland Yard that Prince and Jagari would share the spotlight again. Backed by the cheers of an appropriately intoxicated crowd, Dr. Lamba walked out to play cowbell during “Toloka”. Jagari spent the song high fiving each and every ecstatic fan. This included the most respectful crowd member, who looked to be about eight.

W.I.T.C.H. had the back of Starland Yard packed from the entrance to the stage, to the point where I was struggling to even move between people to get coverage. I’m not surprised, Zamrock has had major cultural relevance in recent years (see Tyler, the Creator’s sampling of Ngozi Family in 2024’s Noid if you need convincing), its garage rock ties and psychedelic sound remain as strong as ever. Strong enough that I saw a man on his knees begging for an encore before Jagari flashed me a cheeky grin and put a sarcastic finger gun to his head.

A night of great music and a free shot of Malört from a man who wanted to try the “best shot I’ve ever had” had me riding a high I won’t forget, and I promise it’s not just the shot.

Sincerely, another white guy talking about Zamrock.

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