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Storming the Bandwagon

Storming the Bandwagon

by Oom Onderbaadjie / 08.02.2010

It had to happen. On the back of Fokofpolisiekar’s assault on South African pop culture and the subsequent explosion of the Belville rock scene and pop Afrikaans music in general, it was only a matter of time before someone came up with an aKing parody band. Mahala sent our most interesting correspondent, Oom Onderbaadjie, to get the scoop.

Dzy my laanies. Hoe gannit met julle? My naam is Oom Onderbaadjie. Onthou dit. Oom Onderbaadjie. You may remember me from my hey-deys, wanneer ek wassie ‘Mein Ster’ vannie famous television show, Noot vir Noot. Ja, jy hoor dit Johann? Die MEIN STER! Anyway, so things didn’t quite work out for me that side. I was doing all the work, en IEMAND VAN STEMMET was taking all the glory. Ek wassie true glitz-en-glemma, hoor? But you know showbiz in this country. So black and white. No room for us “people of colour”. All work, no reward. But no more. There’s not enough room in the closet for both of us, Johann. Ek sal dit op my eie maak! Ek sal ‘n groot ster wees, sien?

Maar anyway. Moenie ou koeie uit die sloot grawe nie. Terug by my. Nou, ek het my own show: Die Musical Chair met Oom Onderbaaidjie. Using my famous showbiz connections, I will interview all the best and most famous showbiz people in South Africa. But it wont be on the TV. TV is vannie ouderdoos. My show sal online wees, in the style of “A Blog”. Weet jy wat’s a blog? Dis poes high-tech. Dis die toekoms. Jy hoor dit, Johann? Die toekoms!

This week I have a very exclusive interview with one of SA’s top acts. My agent and I met them back stage at a big festival daar by Kuilsrivier and let me tell you they are top class.

Dzy, Cunter!  Mind taking a few minutes to answer a few questions?

Seker. In Afrikaans of Engels? Ons verkies om Engels te praat vir publikasie. Meer geld, jy weet? Maar frame ons in ‘n Afrikaner lig.

Natuurlik. As a wise man once said…”as jy nie van Bellville af kom nie, lieg.” But now tell us about your band name. My agent told me it sounds a lot like another favourite South African Radio Band. Is this a coincidence?

Purely. And we want to take this opportunity to distance ourselves from them. We want to make it on our own. We’re not just a bandwagon band just because we come from Bellville and take every opportunity to make well-off Welgemoed sound like a train station. Bellville is a big place.

Okay. So even though you guys are famous, maybe there are some people out there like Johann who are out of touch. Can you tell these people who you guys are?

Lamo Liebenberg is our vocalist. But I’m the front man, obviously (remember to put this in, hey?) He just sings my words. If I could play two guitar parts and sing I would; but we’re going for that whole ‘anonymous ensemble’ radio feel, so no.

Dickhead Venter is our drummer. He’s the flagship member for the “emo” crowd. It’s all carefully calculated. You kill a crow, Bostik it to your head and you’ve got 100 000 Bullet for my Valentine fans spending on you.

Cunter Kennedy, me,  is the legend of the band (don’t change this part). He writes everything. In third person. And he recently survived a triple bypass surgery. Fokken ‘ard!

Copyright van Halen is our ship in the night. Can you remember the name of the guy who played bass for AC/DC or Led Zeppelin?

Ummmm….

Exactly.

Ok, ok, ek sien wat jy doen! Ha ha! But now. Tell me about your business plan. Maybe Johann can get some tips.

aKAK is a four piece band. Everyone gets a 25% cut after the record company takes their cut. We got the idea while playing together as our parent band: Fokofpoesjyskak. A five piece band gets 20%. You do the math. Music is a business. We pitched the idea to local media giants and they loved it. Those guys really are smart.

Jussie. Amazing. But if you all get a cut, what about other expenses? Like paying your manager?

That’s the thing. aKAK doesn’t pay any manager. It’s a clean 25% cut. You just keep recycling members. It’s like maths. Franna van Cock + Pierre Gleuf + Vleiskuif Myburgh = VanFokKingTasteless.

Jussie. Sounds like I may need an economics degree to understand this concept fully. Let’s talk about something glamorous. Fame, I think, is a bit of mystery. Like for me, on Noot vir Noot, even though I wasn’t speaking, I just always managed to shine. It’s because of what I call my Inner Glow. Of die sequins. But mainly my inner  glow. What is your inner glow? What are your “sequins”?

Well that’s like asking why Jesus is so popular.

Brainwashing and propaganda over the centuries?

No. You see, on that hill, he was probably the only one whose mom was impregnated by God. I mean, who were those other two guys?

You know. It all makes sense now. Now moving on to more serious matters. People often talk about how this radio music is a “disease” or a “silent killer” in the SA music industry. Would you say this is true?

No. There is something worse. Worse even than groupie STD’s. Apparently it started at music festivals, and at gigs in small bars. No extensive research as yet, but health professionals are calling it VanCokeBloat.

Dzy fok! Sounds serious!

It’s what’s known as an ATD, or Aurally Transmitted Disease.  It’s marked by the onset of full-body swelling, immediately post-audio consumption. It’s progresses to a point where the patient is rendered completely unrecognizable, even to family.  It also rumoured to affect the vocal chords, causing them to morph into that similar of a protective female polar bear. There is only one known cure…

Uh….Sleeping with a virgin?

In Cape Town? Impossible. No. The cure is… Photoshop.

Photoshop. Die toekoms is nou. Die toekoms is nou. Anything to tell the fans out there?

I’d just like to tell the youth to never let anyone get you down. We grew up in repressive families and that could’ve easily stifled us, but it didn’t. We took the best out of it and learned to roll with the punches. Lamo’s dad was a Dominee, and even though he hated growing up in that environment, he took the best out of it and is now, in a weird way, following in his dad’s footsteps by making money by simply telling people the truth, and singing the praises of God (my lyrics). So ja, anyone can make it out there. If you’re a Bellville band and you believe in your music, your friends will get you there

Dis waar, julle. Dis waar.  Don’t forget to join their fan page here. And tune in soon for my next exclusive interview with global internet phenomenon, Die Vrag. And remember to let your sequins shine.

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RESPONSES (24)
  1. Anonymous says:

    what a load of kak..

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  2. Anonymous says:

    thats 5 minutes of my life I will never get back…

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  3. mofo says:

    On the contrary, that was very entertaining. More please.

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  4. Andy says:

    “Lamo Liebenberg is our vocalist. But I’m the front man, obviously (remember to put this in, hey) He just sings my words. If I could play two guitar parts and sing I would”

    that’s some pretty funny shit

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  5. BORING!!!! says:

    geeze mahala….are you doing reviews for 11 year olds now

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  6. Carol Reed says:

    Do they actually exist, like play gigs? Or are they just another FB page?

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  7. Die SwartKat says:

    uncultured F&cks

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  8. Nas Hoosen says:

    What are the chances this is the work of the very same “VanFokKINGTasties” crew that it’s parodying?

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  9. enos says:

    Hunter wrote this. And it’s awesome.

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  10. Jason says:

    er..

    ugh…

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  11. Niel says:

    If there’s one thing more fashionable than Bellville, it’s hating on Bellville. Do it well, or keep your pen in the drawer, please.

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  12. Lisa says:

    why do i have a hunch we’re on the verge of another MK89 musical mockumentary? oh goodie…can’t wait!

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  13. Sindy-Lou says:

    OH. MY. WORD – that’s all I’m saying. Now sit back Uncle Waistcoat and wait for all of Bellville to unleash the fury! Ha ha! Nice one!

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  14. Brian Green says:

    A young man, roughly 26, waits within the reception area of his childhood doctor’s practice. He’s been here many times before, but none of the previous visits have been accompanied by the anxiety he feels today

    The doctor, approaching retirement age, exits his office momentarily to usher the young man in. The doctor takes note of the young man’s appearance, somewhat different to the way he’d remembered him. The young man’s clothes are tight and nearly all black. His hair is different, too. Where it was shorter and neater, it is now longer, dyed black and crudely styled with a fringe the doctor is more accustomed to seeing on a woman.

    Clutching his stomach, the young man makes a beeline for the bed. There’s no time to waste. It’s obvious to the doctor that there’s an issue with the young man’s abdomen. Pleasantries are dispensed with. The young man removes his cardigan and V-neck t-shirt without prompt. Beads of sweat stream down his brow and he’s forced to brush the fringe to one side.
    The doctor recognises the problem immediately, an abdominal swelling just below the naval. There’s a faintly defined line at the apex of the lump. The doctor releases a deep sigh. This will be the fifth time in two weeks he’s seen the same thing.

    He calls for the nurse, speaking in a hushed voice to prevent his patient from hearing. The nurse appears three minutes later. In her right hand she holds what appears to be complicated set of salad scissors. In the other hand, a pair of sleek silver tongs. All concerned parties know what is due to transpire.

    Instructed on what to do, then positioned, the young man finds himself in a receptive posture upon the bed. The doctor and nurse undertake the necessary procedure, removing in the process three square objects from the young man’s rectal cavity. The young man may be in tears, but he’s awash with the sense of relief.

    Now, lying in the stainless steel medical dish, are three CD cases that are smeared with faecal matter, rectal mucus and blood. The responsible artists: Fokofpolisiekar, aKing and the Van Coke Kartel.

    The doctor shakes his head. “Hoekom?” he asks the young man. Silence. But the doctor does not need to ask. He’s fully aware of why. The young man is simply just another enamoured fan of Bellville’s finest. Like numerous others, he just can’t get enough. He has inserted the albums into his arse in a vain attempt to become the bands, to be one with the bands, to BE the bands. It’s a VanFokKingTasties enema. The closest way to be with the muscians he adores is to have them ingested within the inner workings of his lower intestine.

    The doctor summons the young man’s mother and explains what has just happened. She weeps. But, the doctor and her both know that in truth, the young man will probably do it again. He simply loves the bands too much.

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  15. retards and retards and retards, oh my! says:

    When the thinking man is faced with a piece of creativity he feels is lacking in well, creativity, he has two options: he can (a) man up and create something better, or (b) critique it in a rational, considered, intelligent and/or clever way. Congratulations to ‘aKak’ and ‘Oom Onderbaadjie’ for achieving neither of these, and therefore nothing at all, and thank you, Mahala, for airing such banal immaturity. You’ve all done us such a service.

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  16. Dis vir my mooi says:

    Very well done and enjoyed!

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  17. willim says:

    lekker funny stuff

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  18. Anonymous says:

    Don’t hate what u can’t achieve

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  19. Al Funk says:

    God people sure got really fucking pissy over this. This was well done and with a bit of imagination quite humorous and entertaining. Both complementary. We deperately need a counter-culture to this belville attack. We need more haters cos you lovers make me wanna puke.

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  20. Anonymous says:

    POES SIMPEL JIRRE DIE POESE MOET HULLE FOKKIN BEKKE HOU.
    POESTE

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  21. Brett says:

    It’s entertaining, sure, but I dunno… I don’t think aKING are a cash cow for the Bellville scene, they make good music and don’t seem like bad dudes.

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  22. piet says:

    what just happened?

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  23. jess says:

    YAWN

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  24. Anonymous says:

    stupid komen kak……

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