ROCK: Guy Willoughby
‘W HO are the Africans, after all?” asks the throatily- toned Bill Knight, right at the start of Skollie Rock,=20 his debut collection of self-penned songs. The songwriter=20 don’t provide no easy answers, as Mr Dylan might say, but=20 the question goes to the heart of his problem on this=20 interesting, uneven album. Really, we’re all Africans by=20 this time, Bill, so let’s move on to other questions.
One such interesting question might be: who are the white=20 singer-songwriters? There ain’t too many of ’em, and very=20 few are articulating, um, an English-speaking outlook=20 from the suburbs. Knight falteringly does just that,=20 which might just make him valuable one day. Right now,=20 he’d much better loosen up and let his voice and vision=20
On Skollie Rock he is aided and abetted by a fine group=20 of musicians, especially that mighty veteran Roger Lucey,=20 who provides sprightly and simpatico accompaniment on=20 sax, flutes and harmonica. Dave Ledbetter tinkles and=20 strums, and lends atmospheric vocals.
However, one might wish for more diversity and musical=20 colour on this album. Those pennywhistle-type flutes have=20 been done to death by anxious white would-be African=20 musicians, from Johnny Clegg’s first appearance to the=20 last Mango Groove album. What began as a poignant figure=20 on David Kramer’s Bakgat (1981) has degenerated into pat=20 cliche, and Bill & Co should look elsewhere for a hybrid=20 Euro-African sound.
This nagging worry about Africanness extends to the=20 songs, three of which opine about this quaint continent=20 in their titles: Who are the Africans?, African Night and=20 Thula Africa (which features plangent singing from=20 Caroline Blundell, by the way). True, a number of these=20 were written in the benighted, hand-wringing 1970s and=20 1980s, which perhaps explains the painful self- examination of their lyrics.
Later numbers are more relaxed, more liquid, more=20 African, in fact (Harbour, Peace Dance, The Way of the=20 World), if African means something more than Awareness of=20 Black People — if it means merely Living, without guilt,=20 grumbling or greediness, in Africa. (That sentiment has=20 been nowhere better put than in the Bright Blue song of=20 that title, all those years ago.)
Let’s face it, “Africa” is far too big and draughty a=20 concept to have any usefulness. How about asking, rather,=20 who are the South Africans — the Capetonians? Better=20 still, who are the Tamboerskloofians? Now that seems to=20 me a question Knight is admirably equipped to answer.
A number of the songs featured here are strong and=20 memorable, and deserve wider audiences. There’s Harbour,=20 with its catchy evocation of love among the Kalk Bay=20 fishing boats; Bitterbessie, a grown-up song that pines=20 for the “idle afternoons” of the singer’s carefree,=20 comfy, and Caucasian youth; and the curious hard-luck=20 ballad Medium D-Westville Prison, shades of Jennifer=20 Ferguson and Bruce Springsteen, which tells a typical=20 local tale of pointless violence.
Knight reveals his influences — a touch of Kramer=20 phrasing here, a bit of Johnny Clegg or Shawn Philips=20 there — but no doubt he is shaping his own style. Next=20 time, he should foreground his rich guitar, play down the=20 accompaniments — and drop the PW Botha-era identity=20 crises. We all live here now, and what we want are songs=20 that do so too.
Footnote: it’s a damn poor show that a fellow of this=20 talent has to put his songs out at his own expense. This=20 makes for a radio blackout too, as only the big companies=20 get air-time. Does the local record industry have so=20 little faith in us?
Skollie Rock can be ordered from PO Box 15662, Vlaeberg,=20