The new video from Francois van Coke’s debut solo album – a ballad with Karen Zoid – had received more than 204 891 hits on YouTube at the time of going to print. Has the wild rocker finally grown up, asks Therese Owen?
I couldn’t believe how good Francois van Coke was looking. We were meeting in a quiet burger bar in District Six, Cape Town, to discuss the release of his self-titled debut solo album. He was looking 24 all over again, but without that wild, self-destructiveness that had South African rockers falling in love with him when he first took to the stage and vomited in the early years of Fokofpolisiekar.
A decade later there are no Jagies. Instead, Meneer van Coke drinks Diet Cokes throughout the interview.
“I’m staying in the suburbs. I am married and I walk my dog,” he blushes before showing me a picture of his English Bulldog.
We then move on to the serious business of his serious album. On first listen, what is most noticeable is that he has ditched his trademark scream for actual singing. And it works very well.
“I don’t feel I need to scream that much anymore. Twelve years ago we were writing for ourselves. Now I write what people want to hear.”
Not that he would or ever could write songs for Bobby van Jaarsveld fans. Francois van Coke is the antithesis of that Afrikaans culture – safe, boring, formulaic pop music that has nothing to say and says it too loudly. What he has done, however, firstly through Fokofpolisiekar and then through Van Coke Kartel, is define a new sound and a new way of doing things in South African rock music.
While Springbok Nude Girls were certainly proud of their Afrikaner heritage, they chose to sing in English. Not since those crazy few years of Die Voëlvry tours had singing in Afrikaans been so rock ’n’ roll rebellious. Until Van Coke and the crew came to town. It signified a coming-of-age for Afrikaans rock, where it’s now okay and cool to sing in that language. From Die Huewels Fantasties in Bellville to Die Straatligkinders in Potchefstroom, Afrikaans is plesierig.
Now with the release of his first solo album, Van Coke is stamping his authority. He is moving from the young rebel without a clue to a more mainstream, adult approach to his music. It may seem clichéd for a musician to do this in his mid-30s, but Van Coke is anything but clichéd. His lyrics are too honest for that, his soul too sensitive.
“I have tried to create something different with this album. I have been thinking about doing this for a few years. For my future in music I am not dependent on anyone else.”
With this album, he has also explored the subgenres in rock music, yet there is a specific feel to the album.
“It was made the old- fashioned way. Yes, singles are important and kids generally prefer to buy one song. Yet people our age still appreciate the concept of an album and will listen to it in its full capacity.”
Having said that, the single with Karen Zoid, Toe Vind Ek Jou, is already going viral. It was produced by top rock producer, Theo Crous. It’s one of those songs that is a defining moment in music. Firstly, it is the combined work of three South African legends – Van Coke, Zoid and Crous. Secondly, the lyrics are achingly, beautifully honest. Thirdly, the production harks back to the days of the Nudies’ classic debut album, Neanderthal 1. There is so much history, so much beauty, so much creativity in this song.
It’s four minutes and six seconds long and on first listen it was the fastest four minutes and six seconds I have experienced on Earth. Van Coke blushes when I tell him this.
“Writing with Karen helped me be vulnerable. She feels like an older sister.”
In reference to Crous, who has worked as a producer for Van Coke Kartel, he says: “The Springbok Nude Girls made it possible for us to believe we could do this.”
When he speaks of the release of the video which would happen a few days later online, I ask him about the effect of taking the all- important MK off TV. After all, there was a symbiotic relationship between MK and Fokofpolisiekar as well as Van Coke Kartel. They all helped each other grow. Van Coke shrugs: “We are not in someone’s house all the time, but we’ll go there. We existed before MK and will always make a plan to survive.
A few days later the video was released and within 24 hours it had 45 000 hits and six days later it had reached over 200 000. It’s as if he knew it was going to happen.
But then again, Van Coke, who is one of the hardest-working musicians I have met, is no fool. He knows that to stay in this industry he needs to grow with his audience. He is incapable of compromising or selling out his belief in his art. Yet, he has tempered it by exploring more gentle ways.
“You can’t scream forever. I think the screaming curbed the aggression and now I don’t have to scream so much.”
Van Coke’s debut album will go down as a huge turning point, not only in his career, but because of his career. He is a visionary, a maverick and a very influential artist in South African culture. This album will make sure that he stays so for a few decades to come.