In August 2021, the large nationwide protest Unmute Us from about a thousandmusic organizations a plea to politicians: “Give us back the night!” Theparade in Rotterdam with hundreds of dancing people – dance fanatic, rockerand disco geek – arrives at Stadhuisplein with lots of cheers and thumpingbasses. There are performances. A lanky performer with straight, long blondhair named Prins S., frontman of the then relatively unknown formation PrinsS. en de Geit from The Hague, spews out the frustrations of the nightlifeworld with fiery eyes and inimitable dance moves.
On a cover of the Faithless dance hit ‘ God is a DJ sounded: “This is mychurch, the place where I process my pain. Loves have blossomed, I haveoutgrown the child in me, place of chaos and disruption, healing and relief,where you forget all your suffering when the bass enters your body. ‘ _And also: “I miss my church. Jesus is allowed a full room, but we are not. […] My religion has been on hold for a year and a half now.’_
“Were you there? O, sick say,” says Scott Beekhuizen (26), aka Prince S.,and then bursts out: “It was the first time we performed in front of anaudience.”
He added the protest text for a radio appearance that week 3FM. “It wasquite a wall of text that I quickly learned by heart. The next day we weresuddenly able to hear those at the Unmute protest. A rather overwhelmingexperience in that square. We had no idea that thousands of people wouldcome.”
As a caged nocturnal animal in the pandemic, the twenty-something could hardlyimagine it at the time: an ordinary life with encounters at night. Now hesays, over coffee in a grand café near his house in the center of The Hague,that it is almost impossible to recall how it was then, that sitting at home,the nightlife closed for so long. Because the pounding night poetry of histrio Prins S. en de Geit with producer Daniël Ortgiess and guitarist MarneMiesen – an endless stream of words on bouncing electro pop full of effects –made a big breakthrough this year.
Stroke
A then still online version of showcase festival Noorderslag introduced thatat the beginning of 2022: the long beat poet Scott Beekhuizen splashed off thescreen. It was a campy , crazy performance. His movements, the hilariousautotune-driven rap lyrics about ducks, sharing a bowl of mayonnaise or choicestress (‘Wat Jij Wil’). The imperturbable musicians behind it.
Many bookings came; the genius dry and rousing Prins S. en de Geit became asmall hype. Rightly so. Anyone who experienced the trio, for example at theLowlands festival last summer or in this autumn’s club tour, was automaticallysucked into the lyrical tornado.
It would have made little difference if things had turned out differently. Thedance act from The Hague was almost extinguished like a wet flare. In March,just after the Grasnapolsky festival in Groningen, guitarist/composer Marnesuddenly suffered a cerebral hemorrhage on the street and fell into a coma.“At first we thought he just suddenly died,” says Scott Beekhuizen.“Everything came to a stop immediately with squealing brakes. Nothing is moreimportant than that. Discussions arose with the family about what Marne wouldlike for the Goat. Fortunately, he would indicate this himself later, becausestep by step he came back. You two have to go on, he said.”
So Prins S. en de Geit stood as a duo in a full tent at Paaspop in April.“Insane but so loaded without him.” Already at Parkpop in June, Marne came towatch again, and the show at Lowlands was a victory in every respect: a dreamin the breakthrough, with a guitarist. Beekhuizen: “It was so hot and stuffythat I kept an extra eye on him.”
Scott Beckhuizen foreman of Prince S. and the Goat
Andreas Terlaak’s photo
On stage he is completely in his element as Prince S. (Scott). Dancing freelyand wildly, he sends the audience in all directions as an original charioteer.“I strongly feel that the people in front of the stage and I do it together.But the audience sets the vibe and builds their own moshpit. Things happenthat we all want.” When he performs, he enters a kind of trance. “After that,I don’t remember much about it. When I saw videos again I thought: oh yes, nowI understand why people say: what a strange fun band.
Break through the fourth wall
His stage experience – Beekhuizen trained as an actor at the ToneelacademieMaastricht – comes in handy. Although, laughing at that idea, he really breaksthrough the fourth wall. “With theater I find it very annoying if that fourthwall is not there. Very scary, so with an audience. In the freedom of PrinceS. I will indeed walk through it.”
In his own words, Beekhuizen did not come to fruition at the drama school. Hecalls himself a seven who tried to find his feet again and again, looking forthe identity that suited him. As a child in Leidseveen, he already had thefeeling of being an outsider. “All boys to football, all girls to dance. And Iwas the only one who also went to dance.” Besides, he says, he was fat. Whichearned him the nickname ‘the fat ballerina’.
It culminated in a high school eating disorder. “Losing weight became acontrol thing. I barely ate. Painful yes, childhood stuff. And somethingsimilar: anorexia mainly has a female syndrome. So I also had a girl disease.My parents have seen me struggle a lot.”
But he puts it into perspective: “Every child has his shit, right? I was alsothe sweet theater guy who loved to make music. And even though I never reallyfelt at home in drama school, I got through it. Although I found the method ofpeeling off emotions and breaking down psychologically unnecessary and unsafeon such a course. And again that normative nonsense of such a teacher in frontof the class: how men had to learn to be vulnerable and women could be ugly.”
Back in The Hague, Beekhuizen befriends musician Marne Miesen, an acquaintancefrom the art and theater corner in The Hague, in the Strijkijzer, the towerblock at Hollands Spoor station. “He insisted, let’s make something together.I had another text from the first year of drama school, The night. Daniel, achildhood friend of Marne, joined as a producer.
No label
The name of the band was a spontaneous addition of guitarist Marne. “The goathas a good vibe. We like goats. Modest but also showy.” Prince S. has been inhis head since drama school, „I already stretched the gender norm a bit. Ialso did a solo as an androgynous pop star. As Prince S. I feel freedom to dowhat I feel, and that is as fluid as anything. I’ve tried to put myself inthat box of man for a long time. I am now more x than m, but there is no needto label it.”
Prince S. makes striking observations in songs and humorously fillets painfulsituations. The wrought-up beats form a contrast. On the newly released album_Standing Red Going Hard_ it bounces from ‘Children’s Farm (Keiblij)’ to thenervous hardstyle lesson ‘Kan je Niet Maken’. ( ” Make a fuss about pastbusiness/Can’t fix it/At a party the whole dance floor vomited/Can’t fix it”).
A love for language started in high school. Out of frustration, becauseBeekhuizen is dyslexic. “So I found language very stupid at first. But stupidpuns got me a long way. I like rhyme, multiple meanings in words. Spinvis’poetic songs took me a step further. Similarly, the language love of Drs. P.and hip-hop.”
Thematic was ‘ The night ‘ “with all its ambiguity” a first common thread,but many of the other songs on Standing Red Going Hard “really just based onmisunderstandings”. If they send each other a word or a phrase like ‘thefrayed edges of the guest list’, it will be misunderstood by the other. Anddoes it become something, “because it tickles”.
At the upcoming Noorderslag festival, mid-January in Groningen, Prince S. andthe Goat may present themselves again. In the spring, the trio continues itsclub tour. “I hope so,” says Beekhuizen. “I don’t dare to count on it yet.Anyone who broke through in the pandemic knows: Covid has made everythingconditional.”
Prince S. and the Goat : 26/12 Second Christmas festival, TivoliVredenburgUtrecht. Spring tour from 30/3, Paard Den Haag. Inl:prinssendegeit.nl