From expletives to monuments and bible verses. It must be love.
Many of us were young in the 80’s when a certain “Daawid Kraamer” (as his name had often been pronounced then – even by radio and TV announcers) appeared on our radio waves.
I remember in 1981 – first hearing this “funny kind of guy” singing about Blokkies Joubert and Hier sit die manne… in mixed language nogal: English and Afrikaans in one song! (Although mixed language songs had been done before, the tone of Blokkies brought it so naturally that the listener often does not notice the language “hops”).
And the very subtle, slightly longer “MANNAAAAA” in the background during the chorus… almost sounds like a recording mistake… but brings an authenticity to the atmosphere… highlights the type of guy that would be sitting there.
Man! This was something special.
I was in high school – had very little awareness of musical and lyrical artistry, or the social nuances around us where I grew up in the Cape Flats. But I do remember my heart skipping a beat as Royal Hotel went slow for a moment with the words:
Hie langsie till
Sit ‘n man so stil
Just that!
Just those two lines… seemed to have opened a new way of thinking for me…. this image that someone could be struggling while others close by are having a good time. It also perhaps gave a little preview of things to come: what other songs would this guy write?
And then – of course – one became aware of Bakgat. I still have the vinyl. With this oke posing in front of a suburban house with a coffee pot letterbox. In black and white. And we came to know Frikkie, and grew attached to him as we listened to the album over and over:
I always wanted to be a rock and roll star
But things never turned out that way
So I ended up here – working at the O.K.
Sjoe! Jy trek mens se keel toe, David. Ons ken (is) sulke mense, man!
And Bellville Blues!
I’ll pick you up at eight.
She said: “Forty seven Voortrekker Road
The number is on the gate”
Monumental lyrics! In a truly South African accent.
En toe kom Piet Bedien. En David help dat ons vir Piet begin raaksien. Die Piete wat ons in die straat sien stap of op die hoek sien staan… het skielik ‘n NAAM. En ‘n HART.
Môre loop hy weer
Sê maar dan goodbye
En so het ek en my broer David se songs begin opslurp. Die lirieke ondersoek en bespreek. Albums en tapes oor-en-oor gespeel. Notatjies op die vinyl sleeves gemaak (miskien soos mense soms in hulle bybels doen…)
Jinne… en toe kom Jis Jis Jis uit. En ‘n verhoogpersoonlikheid met ‘n fyn oog vir vermaaklikheid en ‘n vonkel-in-die-oog hartseer begin vir ons uitkristalliseer. Briljant!
Waarskynlik die beste weergawe wat David ooit lewer van Botteltjie Blou bereik ons ore en deurboor ons harte. Met bekfluitjie- en kitaarklanke wat mens die berge laat opkyk, en ‘n stem wat jou vanaf jou Southern Suns-handdoek Kaapse agterstrate toe dwing.
Ek sê… sny die brood – ek is in die nood
En ek lê stukkend in die sloot
En mens begin terugdink aan jou kinderdae… hoe Ouma skemer-saans oorskiet kospakkies by haar voorstad-agterhekkie vir die Bergies gaan uitsit het… mens begin verstaan…
O jimmel! En die mooiste staaltjie van Krisjan Swart word weer geskets… met stunning moeitelose kitaarbegeleding.
Later in life I would naively (and hopelessly) attempt to discuss the David Kramer phenomenon with European friends. I found it extremely difficult – impossible – to describe what “Bokant die stasie, daar woon Krisjan Swart” really means to South Africans. And don’t even try “Tussen die spoorweg, en die nasionale pad“. A lonesome railway line in the summer heat, and an endlessly long national road seems to have totally different vibes and connections for e.g. Europeans than the way we SA’s perceive it. And forget about “Op die muur van sy stoep, hang die horings van ‘n bok“. Truly and uniquely South African.
Hulle sit daar op die stoep
in die skemerlig so flou
Hulle kyk hoe vlieg die duiwe
sirkels teen die blou…
Hoe pragtig is dit – die prentjie van die twee mense wat daar sit. En die toonsetting – ongelooflik!
Vir ons het David op hierdie stadium die arena van PG, Adam Small, Koos Doep en Bob Dylan binnegetree. Sy skeppinge was nou ook deel van ons erfenis.
He was – and is – not part of the normal musical fraternity. This was something unique. This guy is a painter, a storyteller, a wordsmith. Pointing out different perspectives with humour, heartbreak and beautiful chord progressions. His songs and lyrics became etched in people’s minds and hearts… like bible verses.
Agga gee vir my ‘n sweep
Gee vir my ‘n stok
Gee vir my ‘n vroutjie in ‘n bontrooi rok
Some years later during a TV interview Taliep Peterson would say intensely – while looking the interviewer straight into the eye: “God… maak nie baie sulke mense nie!“
Ja – ons was groot aanhangers en volgers van ander goeie plaaslike kunstenaars – en spesifiek die Voëlvry-beweging ook, maar David Kramer was vir ons eenkant… spesiaal. Resensente en die media het hom dikwels oor een kam geskeer met ander kunstenaars. Nee! Moetie hom vir ‘n pop vattie!
I was a student when one evening I came walking around a street corner and saw lots of parked vehicles and a few red and white “Volksie mini-busses” with Kramer posters all over them. And I realized there was a live show going on. I think it was at the HB Thom theatre. Not being able to afford any live shows at that point, I just HAD to see this icon in real life for the first time in my life. I could only faintly hear the music from outside… all doors were closed. So eventually – after walking around the building I found an unlocked side door, entered carefully, followed the sounds, and found myself backstage at a David Kramer concert! While Jonathan Butler was playing his mesmerizing Seventh Avenue! What a moment for me! For fear of being discovered, I didn’t stay long. But that’s my claim to fame: I was a hideaway at a David Kramer live concert 🙂
(Latere jare, natuurlik – is geen opvoering waarby Kramer betrokke was, gemis nie.)
En toe…in 1986… kom Baboondogs uit.
Oeff!!! Soos ‘n skop in die maag. Ons moes ons platespeler se naald twee keer vervang. DIT was vir ons die regte David. En die regte boodskap. Op die regte tyd. Going Away, Signal Hill, Shake my head,..
Sjoe! Die klanke en atmosfeer van Dry Wine…
Knowing it all
from the distance of headlines
I express my opinion
with a mouthful of dry wine
Jirre, broer. Ons eie Pink Floyd. Regtig!
En Bobbejaan! Hoe beskryf mens die begin… die dralende mondfluitjie, die eggo-klanke, die akkoorde wat geleidelik resolve?… En dan:
Hey – check this picture
of the baboon with my dad
Right there! An intense story. Straight to the heart. For how many countless hours did we listen to this one on a Sunday afternoon…?
En natuurlik was daar Skipskop. Wat so baie ge”cover” is dat sommiges nie eens weet dis ‘n DK song nie.
And so his songs and verses are like monuments along the streets of our conscience and memories. His way of portraying the life of the downtrodden or those left behind. In a specifically South African/Western Cape and Northern Cape context. Seeing the people from different perspectives. With compassion. And love. While beautifully and masterly packaged in music and song.
But beware: the marginalised is not always the obvious. The spectacular live rendition of Tjoepstil on Jis Jis Jis is still one of our favourite rock-and-roll songs… in any language. Competing with the likes of AC/DC when we have music nights! From the onset with heavy drums and the lively Capetonian audience, Richard Picket moving to the toms with ear-piercing violence, Newman (I think) on guitar, the first acoustic chord left hanging for a moment, and then the immaculately timed, arrogant “HEY!!!”, followed by “TSA! TSA”….
Jassis! This is drama!
The stage is set! The colours have been painted! Now – it’s time for the SAP staff-sergeant from 1983 to speak:
Call me a rock spider!? Call me a gé!
You like to mock, the things I say.
I’ve got sideburns – down my cheeks
Haven’t had my haircut, for nearly two weeks
Nee jirre, David, man. Dis mooooiii!!
Ons het sulke ouens ge-KEN mos!!!
Vroegoggend en Piet Soek Vrou is nog van ons gunstelinge… die manjifieke kitaarspel… die ritme teen stap-spoed… Mens kan die lang pad in die oë SIEN deur die song se akkoorde.
Sal ‘n suikersak my kleertjies kan vat
Ek is op pad
Ek is op pad
Ure in spoorwegbusse naweke huistoe het ek en my broer met ons walkmans geluister na Dawid Ryk, die uitgelate Meisie Sonner Sokkies, en die manjifieke Matchbox Full of Diamonds:
Miskien vir jou is die plek lelik
Maar vir my is die plek mooi.
Hoekom sal ons nou hier bly?
Want die Here het ons hier gegooi
Hoe kolskoot word die lewensfilosofie van baie van ons eenkant-mense vasgevat! En die absolute oomblikke van desperaatheid en geen heenkome in
Wat nou, Koos Sas? Wat nou?
Is die perde nog so flou?
Nou loer jy vir die geweer hier voor jou
Met die wind so in jou oë
met die wind so in jou oë
Yes – from the depths of despair experienced by the ordinary, marginalized man with
Ek lê hier alleen
in ‘n land sonder reën
en huistoe kom ek nie weer
and
He left a little note that said ‘Cheers’
And the five other troepies on patrol with him
Well, he put a bullet between their ears
and
Sewe snotneuskinders
‘n Gat in die sak
Die lewe maak jou lekker
die lewe gee jou pak
to the heights of joy and the kinds of delightful treasures that can surely only be found on (South) African soil:
Oranje is my gryskop
En blanje my sypaadjie
En blou is mos die mooiste kleur
vir ‘n navy blazer baadjie
and
Maar dis lekker, dis lekker
Dis tog te lekker hier
Musiek op die draadloos
En skuim op my bier
and
Die berge frommel om my
my koue klip-komberse
En ek trek die donker nader
nes ‘n kamer sonder kerse
My brother had a really difficult time when he was conscripted into the army for national service. He passed away a few years ago, and we found these words scribbled in a little black notebook he used to keep with him at that time of his life:
O moeder – My mond is ‘n gat vol wind
‘n donker kol teen die maan
My bloed sypel weg
‘n rooi tak in die sand
as die staalblou son ondergaan
Thank you, David. For the music. The paintings. The sketches. The plays. The wonderful stage productions.
No doubt a pioneering career like yours could not have been easy. There surely must have been many challenges, hard times, criticism, unhappiness, financial constraints, moments of despair, and times of doubt. After all – this is a business like any other.
But perhaps what counts, is what remains through the mists of time: the LOVE for your fellow human being – especially the voiceless – that keep shining through.
Thank you for the LOVE, David.
You – and your work – are part of our collective heritage.
"Johnny Lategaan"
January 2024
https://www.news.uct.ac.za/images/userfiles/downloads/media/davidkramer_citation.pdf
https://willwilltravel.wordpress.com/2018/11/27/david-kramer/
https://repository.up.ac.za/bitstream/handle/2263/29006/Complete.pdf?sequence=6&isAllowed=y
