This year was different.
I had a really great Halloween weekend. I went to a Lost Boys-themed party that DID NOT SUCK on Friday. On Saturday, I went to a warehouse party that also DID NOT SUCK. Having been satisfied with the “Halloweening” the weekend had offered me thus far, a friend and I decided to simply watch scary movies, make pumpkin pie and give candy to kids on Halloween. Super chill. Halloween-ish, at least, with minimal energy required. Because forcing holiday celebrations is ridonkulous.
AND THEN.
After watching, “The Crazies” (which is worth it for the scary CAR WASH scene, but overall SPOILER ALERT: military biochemical spill=masochistic murdering zombie townspeople) by a stroke of good fortune on the interweb I came across an event page that said Die Antwoord was playing that very night in my very own town in only 2 hours! Oh ghoulish delight! Oh spooky pleasures! Even though we had spent all of our laundry money on candy for the kids, we had to go. We took the pies out of the oven, slapped some party clothes on, dropped the credit card down and took the ride to the Zef Side.]
Die Antwoord’s performance at La Zona Rosa was one of the best concert experiences I have had in a very long time.
Even though I nearly suffocated in the packed crown up front and even though one of Ninja’s crowd dives ended up bruising my head, the rush of excitement from finally seeing this South African music group paired with the enthusiasm from all of the other concert goers would have been enough to go on. But the performance of Ninja and Yo Landi Visser was majik.
“F&$% the upper class!” she yelled and the crowd backed her up during “Rich Bitch.”
The two taught the crowd a supposed childhood taunt-phrase: “Jou mae se poes in a fispaste jar” which means “your mother’s private parts in a fish paste jar.”
Vulgar, disgusting, irreverent, endearing.
Some of the elements of that make up Die Antwoord’s style are summed up by Yo Landi’s explanation of Zef in an article from the UK’s Guardian:
“Zef’s kind of like you don’t give a f–k and you have your own flavour and you’re on your own mission,” says Yolandi. “It’s associated with people who soup their cars up and rock gold and shit. Zef is, you’re poor but you’re fancy. You’re poor but you’re sexy, you’ve got style.”
The Die Antwoord FaceBook profile has a photo album of dedicated fans rocking Yo Landi’s or Ninja’s hairstyles and track suits.
The modern, trashy appeal of Die Antwoord is spreading like HOT FIRE.
Best. Halloween. Ever.
