ROCK/POP: Chris Roper
JOURNALISTS eager to gain space on the shelf allocated to “world music” have expended many words documenting the emergence of new “ethnic South African music”. But few seem to have noticed a metamorphosis taking place in a heretofore Eurocentric area of local music: the white male rock band. Yep, even these colonial dinosaurs have been touched by the hand of Madiba, and are taking their places as spokespersons for the new South Africa. Psycho-Deli, a four-piece band from Cape Town, are one of the most exciting examples of this new ethos.
Bands in the pale-male genre normally make a choice between two ways of defining themselves. They are either angst-ridden whiteys bemoaning the political fates that have landed them in a country where wearing Goth black leads to dehydration and sunstroke, or young rebels without Xhosa railing against their parents and authority in the mistaken belief that this absolves them of any guilt at the way their mom treats the maid. Psycho-Deli have circumvented these categories, and are a band that celebrates the fun of being South African. According to drummer Jay Smit, however, it’s not as simple as that. “Fun has to be fulfilling. It doesn’t have to mean vapidity or ignorance. People often confuse being alternative with being deep, so journalists who meet us are often initially disappointed. They always think: OBut these guys are lank normal.'”
Psycho-Deli might appear relatively normal offstage, but onstage they are a sexy blend of funky riffs, power drumming and manic vocals. Robbie Ferns, their pogoing vocalist, is a lithe, tattooed tornado of energy, whose habit of flinging his clothes off drives the fans into a reciprocal frenetic frenzy. His sexiness is succinctly described by bassist Neil Potgieter as “fat rhythm, nice butt”.
Why have Psycho-Deli taken a turn that makes them different from the run-of-the-mill rock band? “We don’t have the normal social background you’d associate with an elitist medium like rock. For instance, we’re not here because we want to piss our parents off. That would be difficult to do, since our manager Hermann is also Jay’s father. We’ve got nice homes compared to the average South African, nice families, we’ve never been raped by our parents — no, we’re not a rebel band.” But surely Ferns’ stage antics must bother his parents? “No, my parents are insane. They have more tattoos then I do. I go insane on stage because that’s how I’ve been brought up.”
But Psycho-Deli still have a dangerous edge to their music. At times their disregard for the sacred cows and sacrificial cats that make up the subject matter of alternative rock makes them more menacing. Speed Cop, their exquisite parody of a Leon Schuster song, becomes a warning that the rollicking refrain “Stop! Stop! I am a speed cop!” can change easily from authority being burlesqued to authority doing the bludgeoning. Negotiation rock rather than confrontation rock, Psycho- Deli present the happy face of gritty post- colonial pop.
Psycho-Deli’s cassette single Vibe is out on Street Level