DAVID KRAMER, A BIOGRAPHY
By Dawid de Villiers and Mathilda Slabbert
(Tafelberg, R195)
At one of the many launches of the new David Kramer biography, the organisers cleverly brought the writers and the artist together to talk about the way the book was achieved and what to expect if you read it.
From the author’s point of view, it was the generosity of the artist and his wife Renaye with their time, that made the job so much easier.
What you have is a biography spanning 40 years from Kramer’s first band, The Creeps, which he refers to as the “first Boland punk band”, to where he is now.
He points out that he was born with rock ’n’ roll in his blood and when glimpsing his past in this fashion, music was destined to make the man.
Leaving the country to study design in England, he was exposed to the English music scene.
He would catch some of the best bands at the time in his student cafeteria. At the same time, he was also introduced to the local folk scene. This was when he realised he had to find his own voice and that folk – artist and guitar – was the way to go.
“In Worcester where I grew up, the cultural life revolved around the swimming pool,” he says. Which of course explains a lot about the madness and melancholy his lyrics evoke.
It also points to many of the reasons that his message was sometimes missed by an audience who wanted to escape rather than embrace the harshness of life.
But it was the power of these performers who only had their songs and their backing guitars that showed Kramer the way.
When he returned home, he started writing music and found different voices to explore what he wanted to say. It was something that constantly evolved and hasn’t stopped to this day.
That’s what makes Kramer such a fascinating artist to those who have followed his career closely. Not many can hold the attention so tightly as he has with a talent so huge, it’s tough to ignore.
“Academics come round, study your work and then also explain what exactly I do to me,” he says. But don’t believe him for a second.
Kramer is much too astute to simply stumble from one decade |to another. He might want his audience to believe that, but if you listen to him talk and watch him perform, the story unfolds much more clearly. He knew and still does, exactly what story he wanted to tell and has very cleverly gone out there and done precisely that.
It’s his talent and the way he embraces artists less fortunate that have heightened his artistry.
He captures his early days best: “I wanted to find my own voice. I realised I couldn’t be a British folk singer or an American rock star.
“I had to write about the world around me.”
What he did recognise because of his exposure to the outside world, was that he needed a truly South African persona.
Because of his design background, he was influenced by clothes and developed a specific look that has worked well. “I didn’t want to do the long hair, jeans and T-shirt look.”
When he returned he saw the style of especially trendy black men, went out and bought his first pair of Crockett and Jones shoes, Argyle socks, big baggy khaki pants that he gathered in the middle with a belt and a waistcoat (onderbaadjie). Then he added the Brylcreem and the middle parting of his hair which was shorn shorter than most at the time.
And the Kramer look was born.
Over the years that has evolved but there’s still that link with the past and a style that’s become a Kramer trademark.
His first song was a satirical Christopher Hope poem titled Kobus Le Grange Marais and it released a string of songs that told stories about the people and places he saw around him.
Quietly, Kramer started making his mark while at the same time “morsing (messing) with the taal”.
He was determined that his lyrics should have texture and quality and reflect what was happening on the streets. “I didn’t want to use that ronde mondjie (round mouth) coming from Pretoria when speaking Afrikaans.”
One of the most liberating moments was when he realised he was dealing with something that was not a white man’s language, which sent him into a whole new direction which is still ongoing.
He started exploring folk songs and their roots as he understood it. More and more as his music and political overtones evolved, Kramer became not only uncomfortable with being almal se pal but fell into a depression because of the way he was perceived by many of his fans.
The book, written by academics and leaning in that direction, does a good job of capturing especially this artist’s life. He is one of the few whose particular career path tells a very South African story. And even if he might not always recognise the power, he has touched many hearts and changed minds because of the way he approached entertainment.
I will never forget the impact of witnessing an elderly Griqua man do the rieldans on a festival stage during the early days of Karoo Kitaar Blues where we were introduced to a host of performers who’d never been exposed to such a big stage before. Today there are rieldans competitions around the country.
There are many other areas of his work, including the dramatic impact of the Taliep Petersen partnership, and the many young artists they discovered and sent on their way.
But listening to Kramer perform his music through the ages – the man and his guitar – is more than enough evidence of the artistry of this amazing performer.
The book might be a heavy read for some, but if you’re a Kramer follower, it will remind you of his impact from those early dark days.
While watching him perform, the audience held tightly in his hand, I was reminded that he once told me he didn’t want to perform into his 60s.
Time has made no difference to the quality of this man when he stands with his guitar and sings his music. He has a unique voice and hopefully we will be listening for many years to come.
• David Kramer is also available in Afrikaans.