The Extraordinary Life and Times of David Kramer [Review]

A Review of David. Kramer: A Biography, by Dawid de Villiers and Mathilda Slabbert. Cape Town: Tafelberg, 2011. ISBN 978-0-624-04847

His modest protestations notwithstanding, David Kramer’s life has been anything but “ordinary” – and at last we have a book that does justice to this, David Kramer: a Biography by Dawid de Villiers and Mathilda Slabbert. Their “Preface’ makes clear what kind of book this is: not a tell-all celebrity biography, but a serious attempt to understand the enormous contribution Kramer has made over the years as a musician and solo performer and as a collaborator (with Taliep Pietersen and others).
This is not exactly an authorised biography: Kramer gave the two authors a free hand, but it is clear that a relationship of trust developed between the authors and Kramer, and that the book has benefitted enormously from the material that the Kramers (David and Renaye, and David’s brother John) made available. The result is a book that, while clearly sympathetic to its subject, retains academic objectivity and rigour. The focus is on Kramer’s work, and on the context of that work, rather than on his private life.
The authors provide a series of insightful and well-informed discussions, focussing primarily on the solo albums, beginning with Bakgat in 1980. This enables them to make sense of the trajectory of Kramer’s career, and provides a much-needed perspective on his cultural interventions over the years. These stem from his determination to focus on and give expression to what is local and indigenous and distinctively South African (or Western Cape). Kramer’s roots are of course, in the Karroo (Worcester), and what stood out immediately was his use of a non-standard colloquial Afrikaans and his own ‘blik’ style of music. Bakgat was immediately banned by the SABC. At the same time, however, Kramer was aware of how much was excluded by the official, white Afrikaans-speaking culture of the platteland dorps. Exclusion also shapes identity. This led to his ever-deepening engagement with the undocumented and largely unrecognised language, history and musical traditions of those most marginalised of people, the rural ‘coloured’ farm workers and communities of the Karoo, the West Coast and the Northern Cape. (It is probably not incidental that Kramer’s paternal grandfather was a Lithuanian refugee, Berel Karabelnik, aka Barnett Kramer, who started out in South Africa as an intinerant smous in the Van Rynsdorp area.) This interest culminated in Karoo Kitaar Blues and in the various versions of The Ballad of Koos Sas (a legendary outlaw figure – the “last Bushman” – who was tracked down and killed, and whose skull was put on display in the Montagu museum.)
One of the things which distinguishes Kramer’s music then, is his ability to transcend the limitations imposed by his platteland origins, and to empathise with and enter into dialogue those who have been marginalised by over 300 years of colonial and apartheid history. His creative partnership with Taliep Petersen, culminated in Ghoema, which explores and celebrates the rich musical history and traditions of the people of Cape Town, dating back to the era of slavery.
While the book doesn’t delve into the Kramer’s personal life, it does discuss the problems resulting from sudden commercial success (“Hak Hom Blokkies” was a number 1 hit in 1981, followed closely by “Royal Hotel”). Kramer came to be identified with a particular image or persona (which he had himself promoted) – the familiar image of the singer, wearing baggy trousers, velskoene and slicked-back hair, “almal se pel”. This was, of course, enhanced by a succession of iconic VW bus advertisements, flighted on TV for something like 13 years, which helped to make him a household name. However, his persona was threatening to take over and rule his creative life. His most overtly political LP of the 1980s, Baboondogs (with mostly English lyrics) was in part a response to these pressures. The psychic strain involved in managing the disparity between the public persona and the private David Kramer may have contributed to the debilitating depression that he suffered from for a number of years.
The book deals in a more summary way with the remarkably successful collaboration between Kramer and Taliep Petersen. District Six, the Musical touched a raw nerve by tapping into the collective trauma that resulted from the destruction of District Six, and subsequent shows (Fairyland, and Kat and the Kings) helped to retrieve the music and culture of the District for a contemporary audience. The latter is the only South African show to have played on both the West End and Broadway.
In the new millennium Kramer’s trips into remote rural areas and his work with hitherto unknown musicians, culminating in Karoo Kitaar Blues, helped to do for folk-roots music in South Africa what Alan and John Lomax had done for folk and blues music in America and elsewhere. Most of the musicians Kramer found died in the nine years between the original show in 1991 and the release of a DVD in 2000. Their lives and music were in effect rescued from oblivion by Kramer: we would otherwise never have heard of the likes of Tokas Lodewyk, Hannes Coetzee, Dawid van Rooi, Koos Lof, Siena and Jan Mouers, Helena Nuwegeld and Jan Willems.
It would be difficult to underestimate the significance of Kramer’s original work and “shape-shifting” versatility. The subversive charge of much of his music influenced a new, younger generation of Afrikaans musicians, who were part of the “Voëlvry” movement. The great merit of this book is that it gives Kramer’s work the serious attention that it deserves, without being ponderous or over-solemn. David Kramer: A BIography is readable and articulate, and is well-illustrated with photographs. It traces the evolution of Kramer’s preoccupation with place and identity and belonging from Bakgat to Huistoe. His exploration of what he calls “cultural borderlines” (in reaction to “the previous apartheid mindset”) has as much relevance now as it ever had.
If nothing else, the book will get readers dusting off their copies of Bakgat and revisiting the music that had such an impact in its time. One or two small suggestions: a David Kramer timeline at the beginning of the book would have been useful. And did the publishers consider the option of including a CD (Bakgat or Klassic Kramer) with the book?