Francois Van Coke is dead – if that was the reality in 2007, Christians would say because God was angry, and some would draw a comparison to Kurt Cobain. Whatever belief, myth or legend anyone accepts, there would only be one truth: we would mourn the loss of an icon who spoke for a generation.
Forever and fondly, we’ll recall the history of Fokofpolisiekar, and to their own spite, certain critics will always note that Francois was the intoxicated teenager who couldn’t sing, and the one who never wrote the words.
2009 saw the formation of Van Coke Kartel, his own personal outlet. In the first song he didn’t sing, he screamed. The critics sat up, fans said hell yes, and everyone moshed. But the second album’s sales indicated not everyone cared as much. The third received mixed reviews, and ultimately caused confusion. And for the first time, the future seemed uncertain.
18:48, 2 Nov ‘11, VCK exclusive listening party, Sgt Pepper Long Street. The media is enjoying pizza courtesy of the VCK tab. The Vanfokoftasties family are on the balcony. Francois sits next to an open chair, I ask if I can join, very brotherly he nods, but I get a feeling he’s treating me with indifference. Eventually he breaks the ice: “Why did you tune me in Muse Magazine?”
“I am just a fan boy who had the power to remind where you come from. That’s all,” I answer wryly. He places his arm around me. We agree an interview is long overdue.
12:08, 3 Nov ‘11, my Editor calls. “Would you like to do a story about Van Coke?” I confirm time and date with Francois.
10:00, 4 Nov ‘11, Francois calls. “You’re up early, aren’t rock stars suppose to wake up at eleven?”
“Nee bra” he says matter of a fact, “everyday up at six. Can you come around to the Shack at four, I want to give you the new album.”
16:00, Shack, Francois sits at a wooden bench. I laugh, “finally, it’s happened, rock stars wait for me.” He smiles and hands me a disc. “Look after it. I worked hard on that.”
“How do you feel about the start of a new decade and that we’re undoubtedly going into something new?”
“I just hope I can release my one great work. Listen, I have to go, Wynand is getting married tomorrow, I spent the whole day at Canal Walk looking for shoes, and I want to spend time with my fiancé. Sorry bra.”
5 – 9 Nov, research and first listen of un-mastered album. My notes read: VCK seems like the doubtful brother in the Vanfokkingtaskies family; during interviews, journalists can never nail ‘it’, when compared to bassist Wynand, Francois always says the least; and unlike most rock stars, he cares what the media says. I scribble in capitals: the album is fucking good (if you’re reading Francois, I hope you’re smiling, knowing, honesty is what I always loved about VCK).
19:00, 9 Nov, Aandklas, post sound check, the interview starts. Tonight, is the start of an untitled mini-acoustic tour – a momentary occupation of François and guitarist Jedd Kessow, while Wynand is on honeymoon and drummer Jason Oosthuizen is busy. They buy the first round, conversation starts with Rugby.
“What did you think of the season?”
“I’ve been too busy, I even missed the last game.”
“We lost.”
He smiles, “I know.”
“Didn’t you once say that you wanted to join a team?”
“Yeah, I was serious for a while about being ‘n Scrum-back.” He looks down and wipes his forehead, “but that’s all blown over for me.” “How do you feel about the new album?”
“Proud. Yeah, proud…”
“So, how did you write the songs?” Music journalism’s most irritating question, has never seemed more applicable. “Generally the music comes first. We sit at my home around a computer, record and I’ll scribble lyrics. And we’ll go: that’s cool that’s kak. The way it comes about is pretty random.
Jedd chuckles, “just don’t leave your coffee cup lying around.” Francois smiles, “yeah I’ve become quite a neat freak, I don’t know how, all these years I’ve never been able to. Anyway, I ‘skeem’, this album has a theme. A kind of piss take on ‘drink this and take that’. But in the world, there is this general fear. A feeling that an end is coming. The world was supposed to end twice in the last three years. People fuck off, and people are scared.”
Francois doubts that the essence of VCK is the frustration in his lyrics, but agrees that VCK lives in the shadow of Fokof.
“Yeah… I don’t know. Having been in a band with a fucking phenomenal lyricist it was difficult writing lyrics. They’re always going to be compared. The first VCK albums were a struggle and a test.”
I add my twenty cents: “Whereas aKing is kinda academic, and Heuwels poppy, it leaves you with few options of subject matter. And it’s the frustration that makes it what it is. Even, on the second album, if I can refer to it, knowing, to you it’s a naughty swear word” he laughs, “you apologise in ‘Wat Het Van Ons Geword?’ and explain you have something to say, but can’t put your finger on it.”
He laughs, “fuck, you know better than me” and doesn’t elaborate further.
“Why do you feel you have to release a great album?”
“Ag, fuck dude. I don’t know. I speak for everyone, and Jedd would agree, you just want to make good songs, it satisfies you. I’m happy and proud of this album. Maybe I’ll feel more worthy now. I feel proud of Fokof. But VCK is my own. And unlike before, we didn’t make it for ourselves. We definitely thought about it and didn’t just kak it out.”
Jedd adds, “not anybody can write a great song. It just comes. When it does, you go fuck, we wrote a great song.”
Francois apologises that he’s a bit tired to fully engage me.
“Why is it that you never make yourself vulnerable in interviews?” I ask.
“That’s why a song is there, for me.”
“And do you feel heard by the people that matter? Those who have the power to change things?” I press on.
“No. I don’t think my opinion is important enough.”
“I think it is.”
“I think it’s more important for me to make the people around me think about shit. We once played a show in support of the DA, it was a cheese-fest. Afterwards, these budding young politicians came up, I don’t even know how the fuck you get into that shit.”
Jedd interjects with a quote from The Godfather: “Politics and crime are the same thing. Finance the gun, politics the trigger.”
“First and foremost, music is for us and our friends,” explains Francois. “I refuse to take responsibility. I am interested in making something and the way someone accepts it, is up to them.”
“And what will prove to you that this album is a great album?” says I.
“I don’t know. Maybe album sales. But ripping means those days are over.” he concludes solemnly and enigmatically. Perhaps momentarily forgetting, he makes music for friends and family.
Earlier this year. Somewhere remote, the sun is setting. Francois, and future fiancée Lauren are putting luggage down in their suite. Francois, tired and unable to conjure affectionate words, gets down on his knees.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
During the days that follow. Francois writes track 6, Tot Die Son Opkom.
“As die wereld om ons vergaan/En niemand verstaan my naam… Ek het net nou vir jou oor/Om die gedagtes uit te hou/Kom ons wag tot die son opkom…as dit klank is waarna jy soek/Dink ek jy’s op die regte plek.”
Whatever importance Francois assumes as symbolic, or anything, two things are certain: he defines himself in song, and never tries to be anyone but himself. In the new album he does both best. Wie’s Bang? might just be VCK’s finest moment, yet.
Read Johann’s album review
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