![]() ![]() A sinewy, Iggy Pop-like Ninja (Watkin Tudor Jones in his latest incarnation) spat his aggro 1990s-style rap thick with raunchy Afrikaans lyrics over DJ Hi-Tek’s dance rave beats, to a pumping, several thousand-strong audience. Though a lot older than the twentysomething crowd, I too was blown away by the band’s compelling, raw aesthetic and the intense sexual energy it generated on stage. Some of the girls wore lurid lycra tights. The familiar sounds of a few South African accents wafted above the queue that snaked around Lexington Avenue, but most were American. I got the last tickets going - for double the price. The concert at the Gramercy Theatre was booked out so I turned to Craigslist, the online classifieds, where a last-minute bidding war was under way. Finally I got through with “Daai Ant-word”. When Die Antwoord stopped over in New York during its $O$ tour in October, I grabbed the chance to see whether this extreme act, described by band member Yo-landi Vi$$er as a car crash you can’t help looking at, lived up to the cloud of “interweb” hype around the band.īooking by phone proved something of a challenge because the voice-recognition system failed to understand “Die Antwoord”. See Chris Roper’s review of the album here. Trips to the vet and stitches were required.īy this time so were thousands, if not millions, of others who had delivered so many hits to the band’s Enter the Ninja and Zef Side videos that the website hosting had to be moved to a United States provider to cope with the traffic. Die Antwoord cropped up in conversation a few months ago when a friend here in New York described how his dogs got into their first fight when he played the band’s music.
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