after the devil

[ photo : mikael Subotzky ]

despite desires to remain detached, jezebel is slipping very smoothly (and quite excitedly) into a relationship with Blk Jks' debut album.

between roodebloem and paarden island, between long street and the long walk home, they're finding my heartbeat, my backbeat, my undercurrents. slipping, humming. stripping, strumming. and i'm finding that jaxon is right. this is the future sound of south africa. from the inside. not to the outside.

after robots starts off a bit calamitous (ka-LA- m'TUSS. say it slowly till it's comes easily, and then spit it out swiftly.

CaLamitous .

that's because it's molalatladi - the difficult one of the bunch, hard-to-get but possibly, in time, the most-loved, most memorable and meaningful one.

nomvula is a chuck on the chin to zolani. a ballad. a dirge.

cursor is kind. within reason.

and the vocals. aaaah. the vocals inter a change of gender from line to line - inflections you only notice on reflection. maybe the vocals never really stay inside the gender barrier in the first place. they're so subtle about it (simple, unaffected, naked chords).

and chippity chop, they mash it up. timelines, basslines, breadlines. a flash of jimi. a twang of township. guitars testy like trumpets. casual stabs at classical. stitched with the loose lyricism and unformed edginess of unclaimed territories. the future in your ears. the past in your palm. yes. after robots. pap you can eat with chopsticks.

so, go know.

the walls are watching.

the world is waiting.

(and hang on to your footballs, blk jks. you are starting a sonic cyclone, i suspect.... )