Die Antwoord’s “genius” has been written about in this medium and others so many times, and from so many competing angles, that two years after the rave-rap duo exploded all over the Interwebs it kind of feels like there’s nothing much left to say. In fact, it was in April 2010 already that the Daily Maverick got bored with all those breathless attempts at deconstruction, those long essayistic pieces that referenced everything from Eminem to Aeschylus in an effort to “understand” (or was it, less benignly, to “demystify”?), and so we decided rather to sit back and enjoy. Thing is, with a band like Die Antwoord, half the enjoyment resides in the sense of gaping disbelief: the sense that hierdie ouens can’t get away with something like this; the sense that we better smaak it now ‘cos soon it’ll all be a memory wot we won’t tell to the kleinkinders one day.
And then, of course, they not only survive well into 2012, but go on Letterman to promote their second album and get their faces plastered all over Times Square and get panned in Rolling Stone (the US version, while the local version carries a beautiful photograph by Dan Roberts on the cover, featuring Ninja and Yo-Landi and their scowling daughter above the title Zef’s First Family). So what is a self-avowed fan to do but jump straight back in and start deconstructing all over again?
Ja, well, maybe not from the very beginning – not from those plagiarism claims and “blackface” allegations – but from a hill that’s a little more defensible, being the hill of Die Antwoord’s much-vaunted media nous. Which was, to this writer’s unrestrained pleasure, on full display in a feature article that ran in the New York Times of 26 January.
The correspondent was Eve Fairbanks, the header was Johannesburg’s Most Wanted, and the conceit was that Ninja and Yo-Landi would take said correspondent out on the town on New Year’s Eve. As an opener, Fairbanks quoted the email she received from Ninja to let her know what was in store: “We r taking 1 day/nite off 2 get really drunk wif some homies in a dodgy hood in Johannesburg called FIETAS on New Years Eve. Dere are always fights in Fietas on New Years Eve which should be fun.”
In the event, the night started with a photographer coming around to do a shoot with Ninja and Yo-Landi and a boxful of doves, a cat eating most of the doves, and an “appalled” Ninja petting one of the remaining birds and saying, “I’m sorry.” And did it end as promised, with Fairbanks witnessing a piss-up and a fight at Fietas? No, because Fietas (as far as my own years of trawling downtown Joburg can glean) is fiction, and because Ninja doesn’t drink. The night ended, instead, with Ninja in a beanbag chair offering Fairbanks a cup of tea.
Here, then, is the latest in the hopelessly long and totally unnecessary list of Die Antwoord insights: hardcore, when presented on its own – without shadow and lacking contrast – is tedious. For hardcore to really work, there needs to be an underlying element of vulnerable charm. Ninja and Yo-Landi know this, which is why they’ve managed to stay ahead of the game, and why the New York Times saw fit to end the above feature with the following quote from a guest at Die Antwoord’s New Year’s party (the track to which she was dancing was off the new album, Ten$ion): “‘I love this, and I’m nearly 60!’ she shouted. ‘It brings everything alive.’”
Die Antwoord’s masterful sleight-of-hand, their now-you-see-us-now-you-don’t quality, translates of course into the music itself – and can perhaps be paraphrased into the “is-it-real?” question. As in, “Am I really digging this? Can I be this easy to manipulate?” My girlfriend, when she watched an online version of the live performance of I Fink U Freeky on Letterman last week, seemed to articulate what thousands have been finking when she said: “It’s like they’ve brainwashed me. I don’t want to have it in my head, but I do.”
Watch the official video of I Fink U Freeky co-directed by photographer Roger Ballen and Ninja:
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