Adieu rock and roll dream; Dave Chislett writes a book

David — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 07:14:00 GMT

Renowned journalist Fred De Vries interviewed David Chislett for The Weekender a while back... here is the unabridged version.

"Music journalist Dave Chislett has written a book. Or: the doyen of Joburg alternative culture has assembled over a dozen of short stories he has written over the last fifteen years and with the help of Ge’ko publishers has turned them into a collection.

Chislett himself would prefer the second depiction, because one of the reasons for him to publish this anthology, he stresses repeatedly, is that he’s eager to move away from the limiting label ‘music writer’.

“I do a lot more than that and always have’, he says in a coffee shop in Linden, not far from his flat. “I far rather have people know me as a writer who does music and other things as well. I’m interested in so many other crazy things that I don’t wanna get stuck as a music writer.”

To read the full article, click here

Answer, Question and Answer

David — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 05:13:46 GMT

South African resident and Dutch journalist Fred De Vries has just published a collection of his interviews with South Africans through WITS University Press. I decided to put him on the post for a change here.

You can read the review of his book over at my blog on The Times.

1) I for one am glad that this book has come out, as I did not see many of these interviews when they were published in magazine or newspapers. But why did YOU want to do the book?

Thanks Dave. It was never my intention to publish the pieces as a book. That idea came much later, when, after some 60 stories, I realised that they, taken together, would give a nice slice of South Africa in the noughties. It appeared that after a careful selection there would be a good balance between the arts and the non-arts. Moreover, I thought that most of the people who ended up in the book deserved a little bit of ‘immortality’. Some, like Abdullah Ibrahim, Helen Zille and Steve Hofmeyr, of course don’t need it. But others, especially some of the musicians and poets (think of Jim Neversink, Diesel Whores, Rokkeloos, Japan and I, Buckfever Underground, Ronelda Kamfer, Yabadaka Shamah) may have faded into oblivion in a few years time. And in my point of view they were important, and presented something bigger than just the little cds or books of poetry they released and published. They had stories to tell, that said a lot about a country in transition. And these stories should be kept and archived somehow.
Additionally I wanted to cut across stereotypes, i.e. gave space to important Afrikaans artists in an English paper.

So partly it was a kind of closure for me (it’s really nice to see all those sometimes badly edited and severely cut newspaper stories turned into a proper, well laid-out book) and partly it was a little ‘thank you, you deserved it’ to the interviewees.

2) Your Book is a riveting collection of interviews with some of the more interesting characters on the SA cultural landscape. How do you go about selecting your subjects for these interviews?

Some of them (like DJ Kenzhero and Lodi Matsetela) were brought to my attention by other people; some were so much in the news that they HAD to be interviewed (Hofmeyr, Bok van Blerk). Others had just released a work of great importance (Ivan Vladislavic, Marlene van Niekerk, Ingrid Winterbach). But mostly they were people whose work I saw or heard. And I thought it so interesting or outstanding that they deserved at least half a page in the newspaper. Not sure, however, to what extend my little stories contributed to any sales or popularity.

3) As an interviewer you seem to prefer to become almost invisible, but sometimes you comment quite overtly on what you are being told. When and why do you choose to shift into stronger focus in the interviews?

That’s a tricky one. Generally I think the ‘I’ should be left out as much as possible. I mean, who are you after all? But I also feel that as an interviewer your ‘self’ is already very present in the stories. Basically they are all little vignettes of yourself, your interests, your obsessions, your (lack of) knowledge, your flirts, your past etc. Interviewing, as you’ll know, is essentially a version of psycho-therapy. It’s a reflection of what academics always call the self. But at the same time you have to become that other person during your research, preparation and during the talk. And even when you write, you still have to crawl around in the brain of the other. It’s all about empathy.

And sometimes I found it necessary to bring myself in in a more direct way, as with the Abdullah Ibrahim and the Japan and I interviews. The first because the man treated me with such disrespect and disdain that I could only write it if it featured the ins and outs of our encounter. The latter because they made me feel old and jaded. The kind of connoisseur who knows the whole punk canon and will teach these little girls a lesson in music history. Which was slightly ridiculous. So after our talk I realised that I was the laughable one and not them. So I wrote a self-deprecating story.

4) The interviews are divided into 5 sections, but to my eye they have a lot in common in terms of their importance. How do you see these interviews as a group?

I don’t think any of the sections is more important that the other. The division in groups was more of an easy way to bring some structure in the book and make it easier for the reader to pick and choose. But as you say, there are a lot of similarities.

I realized that what all the people I interviewed have in common is what I called at the launch: ‘a kind of stubborn resilience in the face of an increasingly banal and mediocre society’. In other words: they do what they feel is really important, and, with a few exceptions, don’t so care about money or fame or celebrity status. But at the same time you fear and know that most of them will give up at some point, because kicking against the pricks is exhausting and doesn’t pay the rent. Which is not typical for South Africa, but happens all over the world. But it may be slightly harder here, because of all the disconnections. So it’s very important to spot these people and give them some kind of encouragement.

Mr De Vries Himself

5) You are Dutch yet living in South Africa. Can you explain your fascination for this place and its emerging culture? Why are you here doing this now?

I’ve also lived here between 1992 and 1995, which were pivotal years for the country. It was then that I discovered extraordinary cultural phenomena like the band Koos, musician/producer Warrick Sony and his Kalahari Surfers and someone like poet Lesego Rampolokeng and artists like Wayne Barker, Belinda Blignaut and Kendell Geers. Even Kerkorrel and Koos Kombuis were fascinating. These were real idiosyncratic artists that you could only find in this country. I’ve used Koos for my book on the eighties underground Club Risiko (Nijgh & Van Ditmar 2006). I never realized that South Africa had such an exciting alternative culture

So when I came back I was interested in what had happened to art and culture after the country opened up. Doing all these interviews also helped me to get a grip on this incredibly complex place and on the eight years I missed.

The reason I came back was that I wanted to write a book about South Africa’s only real beat poet Sinclair Beiles, who would fit in perfectly with all these other interviewees. He too was a kind of outcast, even though he hung out with William Burroughs and Gregory Corso in Paris in the late fifties.

6) In my opinion, South Africans are very often ignorant of the importance of many of the artists and people around them. How important really do you think some of the more marginal people are that you have interviewed and why?

That’s a hard one to answer. I think some of the writers I interviewed are really important, in the sense that they’ve managed to capture something genuinely South African. Like Vladislavic’s Portrait with Keys is an outstanding insight into the rapidly changing metropolis that is Johannesburg. Same with Marlene van Niekerk and her novel Agaat, which says so much about the intricate history and racial relations of this country. I’m less sure about the music. I do think Buckfever Underground have made something that is uniquely South African (that’s probably why they only sell only a few hundred copies). Same with Jim Neversink and his local, dislocated take on Americana. But most of the other bands basically make straightforward rock music, which could be from anywhere. That doesn’t mean a band like Fokofpolisiekar wasn’t important. They opened up a whole reservoir of Afrikaans creativity, fun and anxiety, and offered us a great view on the Afrikaans community.

For some of the people, you just wish they were born elsewhere, because they would have gone so much further. They are incredibly talented, but they are stuck with this diminutive audience and cultural and geographical barriers. Surely they deserve a break in that holy, mystical place called overseas. And some of them do get that lucky break, like Gert Vlok Nel, who isn’t in my book, but should have been. Hope this answers the question.

7) Does your perspective as an outsider looking into this place give you a perspective that you think might help South Africans understand their own cultural changes right now?

Haha. If only. But yes, I do think my perspective is somewhat different from most local journalists and observers. Of course one compares all the time with places and countries one has lived before (I’ve lived in Kenya, Uganda and Eritrea). And sometimes I’m surprised by the level of popularity and praise of artists that I find very ordinary (now less so than in the mid-90s). And you do get an eye for what is probably truly exceptional. But there’s an increasing number of South Africans who also see that, so I don’t think I’m unique in that respect. But I do find that whole dismissive, almost sneering stand about local music and art and literature quite surprising. There’s so much talent out there.

8) In the last 14 years there has been a lot of talk of the rainbow nation and the emergence of some kind of shared sense of national identity, but often one feels not much action around it. From what you have seen and explored, so you think there is some kind of new identity emerging in this country?

Not in any clear and obvious way. But of course, slowly but surely there is something emerging like a national feeling. I think that every South African, black, white, coloured, Indian, whatever, will feel very South African when he’s visiting a different country. However, it’s hard to pinpoint this identity. It has to do with a shared history and culture. But that shared history is also the problem, and certainly wasn’t experienced the same way by everyone. And culture was even less shared. So ignorance is a great hindrance. But when I interview someone like theatre director Paul Grootboom is do feel hope. He’s Xhosa and grew up in Soweto, writes very South African plays that attract a mainly black audience, that don’t directly refer to apartheid and have foreign language movies (Italian, French) as the great inspiration. Now this kind of cross pollination is important. That’s why I thought the xenophobic attacks were such a disastrous thing. Six steps back. Nativism is the death knell for culture.

9) As an interested observer/participant what would you like to see South African creatives doing more of as we move into this brave new country of ours?

It would be nice if they kept their artistic independence and vision, and not to do too many concessions to commercialism or wanting to ‘break overseas’. But what’s more important, I guess, is that we get more cross-fertilisation, that we go to each other’s performances, read each other’s books, watch each other’s plays. And wouldn’t it be great to have some real kind of street culture again, like Hillbrow and Yeoville and Sunnyside used to be until the mid-90s. Away from the deadening, stupefying mall culture. And we need some myths again, artists who portray something ambivalent and mysterious and who transcend the mundane and ordinary. William Burroughs was a great myth maker, so is Blixa Bargeld of Einstürzende Neubauten. Here Kaganof is quite good at it, and Fokofpolisiekar did a great job promoting themselves before they’d played one single note. Diesel Whore Jaxon Rice was also good (too good, probably) at creating the myth of that hedonist rock star. Zola is quite good with the myth too; not too accessible, but with something to say. I mean: ‘Zola for president’ proves he has done a good job.

10) I think like me, you come from a generation that still expects our heroes to socio politically relevant, and yet often I feel we live in such a commercialised environment that this is no longer possible. Do you feel there is still a place for artists, musicians, actors and the like to be real forces for social change and the dissemination of alternative points of view? Are ours doing enough?

That’s an impossible question to answer in a few sentences. I think the whole digital revolution has turned things upside down, to such an extend that the outcome is anything but clear. This seems a transitional era. The age of cds has almost ended. Newspapers mean much less than they used to. Even books might be on their way out. New ways of disseminating and absorbing information have come about. How do socio-political issues fit in? The time of a singular rock song that causes a huge stir (think Anarchy in the UK, Street Fighting Man, etc) is gone. Same with movies that caused scandals and uproar. New communities of like-minded people have emerged. But it’s all very scattered, and I think you still need a strong, resilient underground and a visionary avant-garde to create something of an impact.

Big changes happened when everything and everyone came together. Like in Slovenia the band Laibach and their artist friends managed to rally a huge group of rock fans, philosophers, politicians, writers and activists around a single cause: independence of Slovenia. Their concerts became like a gathering place for like-minded people.

Those days are gone. But there’s definitely a need and a hunger for cultural events here. Just look at the amount of people who came to the presentation of Mark Gevisser’s Thabo Mbeki book at Wits, or the success of the Joburg Art Fair and the Cape Town Book Fair. Or even the concert on that synagogue on Oxford Rd last year. We need rallying point and spaces where events can take place. Government and business should do a lot more to promote arts and culture and create spaces for creative people to work and perform. And we can use the digital means to inform people. But I think real life encounters are still essential. Which brings us back to the lack of street culture and the fear and…

11) Where to for you from here? Staying on in South Africa? Exploring new ideas or themes?

I want to finish writing that book about Sinclair Beiles and I’m also working on a book about Afrikaners. The coming two years will of course be extremely important, if somewhat shaky, for the country, with presidential elections and the World Cup football. It will be a good time to be here.

12) Out of all the subjects you have spoken to, and people you have met, who would you like to see being more influential in terms of where their thinking is and how it could change things for the good here?

I really like the way with which Toast Coetzer of Buckfever Underground approached things. He’s fully aware of all the privileges he has had during his upbringing, and he’s also fully aware of the possibilities these advantages gave him. It has made him generous and inventive. He knows affirmative action will not do much for him, but he also knows that South Africa is still a bit of a frontier country, where initiative is rewarded and can get you far. He’s a living example of what Burroughs called a Mobist, Mind Your Own Business. On top of that he really does all the things he likes to do (writing, photographing, singing, publishing) without caring too much about the finances. He has a job that allows him to pursue all his other interests. And he has remained a really likable, generous guy.

I also think we should listen more to our writers. I think they all deserve much more space in our media, because they are the ones who truly reflect on what’s going on in the country.

I’m not too sure about the category ‘activists’ in my book. Although Rian Malan has done fascinating stuff. He’s a great researcher and writer, and genuinely feels he belongs here. But he, like some of my other subjects, does have a tendency to self-destruct. That, by the way, is also a typical South African thing. I guess it started in the 80s when things looked really desperate, and unfortunately it has become a bit of a national habit.

13) Lastly, and stupidly, how does it feel to the on the other side of the interview process?

It’s a real privilege. It’s great to give some of the background stories, and explain in some way what was meant with the interviews and the book. And to say that most of the interviews and meetings were lots of fun and invigorating. Personally I loved the Japan and I interview, because it taught me a lot about myself. Writing I had most fun doing the Abdullah Ibrahim one, which was really the ‘writer’s revenge’. But I also have excellent memories talking to Vusi Beauchamp, Danie Marais, Toast Coetzer, Prinses Petro, Ingrid Winterbach and Steve Hofmeyr... Oh and I must mention Warren Siebrits who taught me so much about collecting and the importance of LPs and books.

Pity you didn’t ask me who I’d still like to interview. Local I would say Minki van der Westhuizen, to ask her about the sad emptiness of celebrity status in South Africa and whether is beauty really only skin deep. Foreign I’d love to talk to Ray Davies of The Kinks, one of the most literate rock stars, full of melancholy and just the right amount of nastiness.

The Chiz : Fred De Vries

Adieu rock and roll dream; Dave Chislett writes a book

Answer, Question and Answer