I initially decided to write a different piece in reaction to Pitchfork's predictable, rather reactionary take-down of Spoek Mathambo's vital new LP, Father Creeper. This was intended to be an end-note of sorts, only tangentially related to the essay as a whole, but it grew longer than a note should be, eventually becoming its own thing. The other one will probably show up sometime soon, but for now, there's this.
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Opinions are opinions, everyone's entitled, and I'm certainly willing to buy that Father Creeper just didn't work for Pitchfork's Jayson Greene--the LP is bound to be divisive. Here's the thing, though: Greene's review suggests an unwillingness on the part of the reviewer to understand the cultural origins of Spoek Mathambo's music, and / or a refusal to engage with it outside of normative notions of Western aesthetics. Greene's opening salvo disparagingly ticks off genres covered by the record: "... grime! crunk! electro! dub reggae! post-punk!" Disregarding how insanely interconnected (and not so incredibly disparate) those styles are to begin with, something else becomes evident--they are all Western. Or more accurately, perhaps, styles of music immediately familiar to Western ears. And it's true they are all accounted for, more or less, but their influences coexist alongside those of kwaito, shangaan, South African house, Spoek's own township tech, maskandi, and high-life (the only African genre mentioned in the Pitchfork review). Moreover, I'd argue the internal logic of this record is built on a cobbled-together framework of those African genres. All of the sounds familiar to Western ears are put into this context.
This seems like a characteristic of contemporary Sub-Saharan aesthetics in general. For obvious reasons, there are many common points of reference for Westerners to latch onto, but a different set of rules, determined by a different point of view. As I've said before, this can often seem like someone used English words to build an entirely new language. At once familiar, but different. On some level it's easy to see why Greene would be left flummoxed by what he was hearing, but instead of attempting to understand this different thing, he questions the artistry of its maker, and goes so far as to state that "you're not so sure what's going on, and unconvinced Mathambo knows better."**
But Mathambo does know better. Remember that this is a South African record played by a South African band. It is emphatically not a genre-defying Western pop record drawing on African influences. It emphatically is a genre-defying (genre-destroying?) African pop record drawing on Western influences. This is an essential distinction, requiring a re-calibration of both expectations and ear holes. This is an adjustment Greene apparently failed to make, which is too bad for him, because over this LP the West has very little authority.
Also, for the record, I like Spoek Mathambo's voice. It leaves its mark on everything. And I think it pretty well drips with disgust, sarcasm, and irony on "Put Some Red on It." Different strokes, but this brings me to a disquieting undertone present in a few of these reviews that I think is worth mentioning: Apparently, "authentic" South African musicians should sound angry, indignant, or generally agitated, and rap about things like "witnessing the violent carjacking of a Volkswagen Citi Golf." Obviously, this suggests fairly off-putting preconceived notions about what it means to be an authentic South African, or to live in South Africa, and says more about the author of that Drowned in Sound piece than Spoek Mathambo. It seems Sub-Saharan Africa is still an Other Place to many, subject to their projecting fantastic expectations onto real people and places. This is in much the same way that outsiders are often convinced Detroit is a dystopian hellhole full of achingly-hip twenty-somethings. In reality, my hometown is a problematic place that can be both beautifully warm and profoundly dysfunctional. Detroiters aren't in a constant state of terror-rage, while carjackings and riots happen all around them like some sort of disaster movie. They're real people, sometimes comfortable and content, maybe drinking beer on a porch or making music in a basement. I'm sure the same can be said for Johannesburg.
**And hey, I seriously doubt that's an "ersatz German-cabaret accent" in "We Can Work." It's almost certainly an Afrikaans accent. As in the Dutch-derived language originally spoken by South Africans of Dutch descent, and currently the third most prevalent mother tongue in South Africa. It is also common in areas of Namibia, Zimbabwe, and Botswana.
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