The local rock scene of the early Nineties was a pretty lonely place to grow up. While rock bands such as Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead and Sonic Youth were connecting with the disillusioned, angst-ridden adolescents of the world, I was stuck in Durban looking for something to own, something that was South African and rocked. Eventually the Nudies did come along but, man, those were desperate times.
Taking a listen to two debut albums from the new crop of South African rock made me wish I was young and impressionable once more, because I would much rather have been rocking out to the likes of The Sick-Leaves and The City Bowl Mizers than Squeal and Arapaho (let’s face it, they were just never as exciting and innovative as the new school of South African rock).
The Sick-Leaves hail from Jo’burg and were formed by Eksteen Jacobsz after he returned from a stint with London rock band The Infidels. With shades of Placebo and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club featuring prominently, this is one serious guitar-driven three-piece that hides the catchy melodies and well-crafted hooks on Tunnel Vision (Sheer Records) behind a wall of sound.
The City Bowl Mizers, on the other hand, are a bunch of teenage rockers whose independent debut album is young bravado drenched in suntan oil, with enough energy to light up Cape Town all winter long. Clocking in at just more than 30 minutes, Lights Out (Independent) is a tour de force of sunny skies, surfboards, bikinis and other trademarks of the sleepy hollow that is Durbs by the sea. Imagine The Clash growing up in a coastal town listening to The Beach Boys all summer.
Do yourself a favour, go get yourself a favourite South African rock band this year, buy their album and go see them play live. You don’t know how good you have it!
Also on the shelf
Skin
Fake Chemical State (Universal)
In the wake of Skunk Anansie’s untimely break-up in 2001, former frontwoman Skin delivered the rather dark Fleshwounds in 2003, which saw her trying to come to terms with the split. Although far from a drop in standards, her solo debut was strained, partly owing to the fact that the bald Brixton girl was stuck in a counterproductive deal with EMI, who told her how to sing and then didn’t bother to promote the record properly. Now signed to the progressive V2 label (which features a stable ranging from pop-rock group Bloc Party to eclectic DJ collective Bugz In the Attic), Skin sounds re-energised. Fake Chemical State, her new album, juxtaposes the bratty screams of the download-only single Alone In My Room with the delicate vocals of ballads like Nothing But. Much of her repertoire here consists of brisk, alluring ditties with soaring hooks and trademark poignant lyrics. All are instantly radio friendly without being excessively syrupy. A limited edition version of the album features two music videos, a photo gallery and a revealing documentary that showcases an irrepressible, pithy Skin that is glad to be back on her feet. — Kwanele Sosibo
The Wood Brothers
Ways Not to Lose (Blue Note)
Sometimes an album does not neatly fit into a pre-constructed box and it can make the lazy reviewer’s life hell. However it usually means that the musicians responsible have outdone themselves, which is the case with the Wood Brothers. They have delivered an album that will appeal to the older blues/folk listener who longs for the days when Van Morrison was recording Astral Weeks and Moondance, while at the same time offering the Ben Harper, Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson listener a little branch of blues roots to hang on to. A word of advice: approach this album with an open mind, it may leave you baffled at first but when it hits, it’s like a freight train. — Lloyd Gedye
Rocco de Villiers
If Freud Knew the Steps (Bowline)
Famous for his cocktails and dinner-theatre shows, De Villiers presents an appealing album featuring him centrally on piano, ably supported by Justin Badenhorst on drums, Theo Janse van Rensburg on guitars and Rixi Roman on bass. Whether it’s the raucous Tango for 2 Saints and a Pregnant Woman, the easy and playful title track, the charming Ego to Please (which is “merely about a deodorant”) or Wait for the Sun to Set (conveniently with a cocktail recipe), this is a creative collection of instrumental inspiration. The stately Hanli’s Bolero was inspired by and features local soprano Hanli Stapela, and Baby’s Lullaby, Mother’s Prayer is a sensitive, seven-minute melody dedicated to the Treatment Action Campaign, Judge Edwin Cameron and Gail and Nkosi Johnson. If Freud Knew the Steps, he’d most likely shuffle along to this album. — Riaan Wolmarans
Nianell
Life’s Gift (Sony BMG)
She wrote and composed almost all the material here, still sings beautifully and plays the piano, but unfortunately Life’s Gift is not nearly as charming as Who Painted the Moon?, the album that shot her to fame in South Africa. Here she appears lost in featureless, Celine Dion-like ballads, like opener How Beautiful Love Can Be and lightweight pop (Crazy about My Life, Show Me You Do). Several tracks are religious, which will doubtlessly tap into the lucrative gospel market. Her vocal skills shine on her version of the traditional Afrikaans Magaliesburgse Aandlied (previously recorded by Mimi Coertse), and the touching, craftily composed Thank You Sam proves Nianell has not lost her touch, but overall Life’s Gift is not nearly as inspirational as it is clearly intended to be. — Riaan Wolmarans
Peter Vincent
Male and Pale (Motion Media)
On the CD cover photograph strange patterns are superimposed over Vincent’s face, looking more like a misprint than a planned design. Despite this misguided attempt at being arty, this South African singer-songwriter-producer’s music is mostly straightforward guitar rock, solid but none too exciting. “I’m male, pale and self-employed and guess what baby/ I’m still here,” he sings about post-1994 South Africa on the title track, which apparently exists in a much longer and more vulgar form in his live shows. He’s got a healthy ego, no doubt, and he thanks “the bitch who broke my heart” for making his ballads so much better — in his opinion, anyway. He wanders off the rock path in places, with an average Johnny Clegg turn on Bambane Ubuntu, digestible blues-rock on Ek Wonder and, the highlight of the album, Sela — three minutes of beautiful, ambient electronica sans vocals, showing Vincent can achieve much more than simple drinking songs and no-frills rock. — Riaan Wolmarans
Various
Café d’Afrique III (David Gresham)
Seventeen superb tracks, starting with the supremely chilled Ice Flowers, by York featuring Angelina, and then taking up the beat a notch while keeping it in the easy lounge genre for the rest of the album. Subtle variations in the track selection make for an interesting set: DJ Bootsie’s Horseriders toward the Abyss has a spooky, Middle Eastern sound; our own Dino Moran and Ricardo Moretti go soulfully jazzy on New Jazz Nigeria; and enjoy the piano on Mint Royale’s The Effect on Me, which stylishly samples Jean Wells’s Have a Little Mercy. This album’s a chill-out winner. — Riaan Wolmarans
Ying Yang Twinz
USA Still United (Universal)
In the bonus DVD that accompanies the Ying Yang Twinz album USA Still United, the duo insist that they do not make “crunk” music but, rather, music that makes you act “crunk”. For the uninitiated, getting “crunk” is actually losing your inhibitions (usually at the club) to the point where your discretion completely evaporates. So it is quite appropriate that this album, an outtake and remix follow-up to the platinum United States of Atlanta, plays out like the soundtrack to a hole-in-the-wall Atlanta strip club. Producer Mr Collipark’s primal, hi-hat heavy production style is purposefully designed to evoke images of contortionist apple-bum strippers. In fact, most of the lyrical content centres on singing praises to the gluteus maximus in the “twins'” trademark slurring cadence. If you’ve heard Wait (The Whisper Song), which appears here slightly remixed, then you have a fair idea of what the rest of the album sounds like — shallow and sparse. To make matters worse, these long-time friends are outshone by most of their numerous guests. This album is unashamedly formulaic and is only recommended for those with a stripper fetish. — Kwanele Sosibo