Oilahuasca

Finshaggy

Well-Known Member
If anyone missed the procedure for Oilahuasca, here it is again:

Procedure, in plain English:

The pepper would be made into a tea. Solids filtered out.

Then you would get some Anise Oil, B9 or Valerian Root (of Chinese Origin, according to the forums)

So that is your Pepperidine, and you activators. Now you need your Enzyme Inhibitors. You can add L-Lysine, but it is not necessary.

Vanilla and Cinnamon work, pick one or both. You also need the Aldehyde structure from one of these.

Next. German Chamomile, Cayenne Pepper Capsules or Tangerine Skin extract/capsules

Then
Almond extract, Anise Oil (if you already had it), Cinnamon, Lemon peel oil, Lime peel oil, or a cigarette or nicotine gum if you can't find anything else.

Then
CBD, Echinacea Purea, Pomegranate, Pummelo, or Calamus Oil.

Then
Clove oil, Catechin, Dill seed Oil or Goldenseal.

Then Kudzu or Glycerin or Caffeine

Not ALL of these things are neccisarry, but if you do 1 thing in each list, you should get VERY strong effects from whatever you take.

And according to the forums, the best thing to take is Sweet Basil Extract, in it's pure form, it is known as "Methyl Chavicol".

Take all that other stuff like 30 minutes to an hour before the Basil Extract, and redose the B9, Anise or Valerian root to keep the effects going without taking more. According to the forums.
 

Finshaggy

Well-Known Member
I could not find a video talking about Oilahuasca on Youtube, but I JUST found a video that kind of explains the P450 Enzymes.

 

WHODAT@THADOR

Well-Known Member
Abortion is a safe and legal way to end pregnancy.
Thinking about abortion?Find a Health CenterThe Abortion Pill
in-clinic abortion and the abortion pill.

Abortions are very common. In fact, 3 out of 10 women in the U.S. have an abortion by the time they are 45 years old.

If you are pregnant, you have options. If you are trying to decide if abortion is the right choice for you, you probably have many things to think about. Learning the facts about abortion may help you in making your decision. You may also want to learn more about parenting and adoption.

If you are under 18, your state may require one or both of your parents to give permission for your abortion or be told of your decision prior to the abortion. However, in most states you can ask a judge to excuse you from these requirements. Learn more about parental consent for abortion.

Only you can decide what is best for you. But we are here to help. A staff member at your local Planned Parenthood health center can discuss abortion and all of your options with you and help you find the services you need.
 

WHODAT@THADOR

Well-Known Member
How to spot a scam artist
You should be able to spot a scam artist right at the onset of receiving a scam email or a letter.

Here are a few tips to help you spot a scam artist from miles away,

- A very friendly and outgoing personality. The scam or con artist will try to win you over with his charm and good nature. He will do any thing to make you trust him and strike when you least expect it to. He is like a wolf in sheep's clothing!

- A good actor. They act out their part very well and almost to perfection. You may not even realize that you are dealing with a con artist.

- They sound very accommodating and willing to help. Of course they will be willing to go the extra mile to help you and help themselves succeed in carrying out the scam.

- Scam artists have a very calm and control nature. They tend to play the reverse psychology game with you and put you on a spot. They are good at controlling you and getting you to do what they want.

- The website for the scam is designed very professionally and very well by the scam artist.

- The scam artists live overseas. They usually live in countries in the African continent. They claim that they are permanent residents of a particular country.

- Dating scam artists are quick to declare their affection for you, and will even give their lives for you.

- Dating scam artists will give very little detail about them but ask a lot of questions from you.

- They have great presentation skills. The scam artist presents himself as a well educated and well spoken individual. Who would even want to suspect such an individual as a scam artist?

- Reluctance to provide information and contact details of the business. You may want to see a report of the company, balance sheet or bank documents before the investment.

- Reluctance to give out references of other people whom the company or scam artist has provided services.

- Reluctance to give a plan how your funds will be invested.

- Reluctance to give information on how the artist got your contact details. This question often gets ignored.

- Reluctance to use any other mode of transferring funds other than Western Union or Moneygram.

- Scam artist will also fail to ask you questions about your previous ventures and experience. This should be a warning sign to you as potential investors want past reference prior to investing.

- Scam artist have many disguises so if they fail to make you fall for one scam it will only be a matter of time before they come up with a plan for another scam.

- Some of the most common words and phases scam artist use in their letter or email are 'Get rich quick', 'This is your last chance to respond', 'Don't let this offer get away' and 'All others who invested are millionaires now'

- Sometimes scam artists use their own personal experience; of course it is a bogus story about how they were once very poor and within a year of investment got rich.

Scam artist are great master minds and find out loop holes to trick people to giving their money and their identity in return for many promises
 

Kervork

Well-Known Member

Die Antwoord
is like no other band on the planet, having earned their kitschy, South African Zef-side superlative through a combination of badboy raunch, à la frontman Ninja (Watkin Jones), intriguing high-pitched asides from the spirited Yolandi Visser, and a gutterpunk club-kid vibe that pulses off producer DJ Hi-Tek. Past singles, such as the catchy “Enter the Ninja” as well as the Diplo-produced “Evil Boy”, worked their way onto a number of playlists and club rotations, helping the band secure a frenzied live show prestige as a must-see act at any music festival. Die Antwoord’s bombastic concerts and larger than life stage personas are not to be missed. However, this wild energy and devil may care attitude yield weaker dividends after being bottled and pasteurized in a studio that appears staffed by a cadre of rejected Saturday Night Live sketch writers.

The album opens with “Don’t Fuk Me”, a silly set piece wherein Ninja — channeling his least creative Jerky Boys cassette tape — leaves a threatening message on a mate’s voicemail box. It’s a one-sided conversation that is more sophomoric than scary. It is also an immediately disappointing placeholder that serves as an apéritif for the rest of Donker Mag. After all, the craziest gangster rappers — whether true OGs, tongue-in-cheek, Zef side, or even Juggalo — at least have the decency and courage to issue threats face to face. Instead, “Don’t Fuk Me” sets the tone that there is no real danger here.

Ninja shares in “Zars” that South Africa is a diverse patchwork of land with 11 official languages. The track — another sketch of sorts — is a brief history of tongues and accents. It also allows Ninja a moment to share his chameleon-like abilities to fade in and out of dialects depending on his audience. Unlike the other spoken word soliloquies on Donker Mag, this one feels genuine and insightful. The concept of Zef and its rap-rave fiesta sensibilities are poised as a means of pulling the nation under the flag of dance, wilding out, and having a good time regardless of one’s background. That’s why it’s refreshing to hear Ninja expand on the group’s manifesto of unity. However, the fact that “Zars” immediately segways into “Raging Zef Boner” means the nearly ripe fruit gets plucked from the vine early and hurled back into the compost heap.

“Raging Zef Boner” meanders along like the more playful Slim Shady tracks dropped in the early oughts. Lyrically, it sprinkles references to Lady Gaga, Instagram, boob pics, dick pics, catfishing, and psychedelics. Musically, it plods along with a clumsiness that’s usually reserved for the villains in animated Disney films. Like hyenas plotting kings and succession, or Gaston boasting about his incredibly thick neck, there’s a disconnected cartoon goofiness to it all. Most of this is meant in jest, of course, but it becomes increasingly difficult for the listener to draw distinctions between moments that earn genuine satirical laughs and other sections best met with a groan. “Raging Zef Boner” wraps up and finds itself sandwiched again between yet another sketch — “Pompie” — which boils down to a forgettable, minute-long interlude of female laughter. It’s too bad the audience isn’t let in on the joke. These sketches continue to flare up in “I Dont Dwank”, “Do Not Fuk Wif Da Kid”, and “Girl I Want 2 Eat U” among others.

Bits have long been a part of hip-hop records. Arguably, the funniest and most sinister were found on Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), where Method Man’s threats of forced gluttonous harm — “[I’ll] keep feeding you, and feeding you, and feeding you” — still deliver a chuckle today. The strength of that sketch is also bolstered by an immediate cut to the rugged limelight introduction of “Method Man”. But these stoppages on Donker Mag, like too many timeouts in a basketball game, prevent the 16-track album from ever securing a sustainable rhythm. They also teach the importance of bringing an unbiased set of ears into the studio.

“Pitbull Terrier” is still a standout song on Donker Mag that finds Die Antwoord returning to form. The one-two back-and-forth between Ninja and Visser hearkens to the original formula of playful exchanges and boastfulness that made them lovable in the first place. It’s an undeniably catchy tune made all the more interesting by a unique Zef styled cadence, as well as the group’s obsession with animals. “Cookie Thumper” is another highlight. The tune allows Visser to demonstrate that her flow range as a talented hip-hop performer extends beyond mere chorus duties. There’s an eerie, haunted little girl quality to it, as if Linda Blair was vomiting a sick freestyle rather than split pea soup onto her exorcist.

Die Antwoord remains an act to catch live. And that’s no put down. Their stage show pries out a gritty, filthy edge from any commonplace spectator that few bands can hope to capture. As far as Donker Mag is concerned, though, just hold out, and you’ll be sure to catch the best parts at the 5 p.m. slot of your next local music festival.
 

Kervork

Well-Known Member

Die Antwoord (Afrikaans for “The Answer”), a South African rap-rave duo, have just released a new video for their song “Fatty Boom Boom.” Among the many batshit elements of the NSFW production is a get-up donned by one of the two that looks an awful lot like blackface. “Die Antwoord totally wear blackface in their new video,” writes Tom Breihan at Stereogum. “Awesome, right? That’s really exactly what we all needed to see today.” Breihan is attempting, I think, to convey his general puzzlement: The duo, Ninja and Yo-Landi Vi$$er, who are white, are known as provocateurs. So is this really blackface, and should we be bothered by it?

Yes and yes. While the U.S. and South Africa each have quite distinct and complicated histories when it comes to race relations, blackface has been a troubling issue for both countries. The culture of blackface and minstrelsy in South Africa dates to the 1860s, when English settlers arrived. Since that time, a minstrel festival, first known as the Coon Carnival, has been held in Cape Town every year. The Kaapse Klopse, as it is now known, primarily features the working class coloured population of South Africa these days, participating in a subversive act meant to reject white superiority and the images it has thrust upon them.

Such continued use of blackface may or may not actually reclaim control of their own images, but at the very least, it attempts to wrestle with the history behind it, unlike some costumes during Halloween or misguided school pep rallys, which are clearly and obviously unacceptable. Likewise, I am reluctant to criticize an artistic use of it if there is an intelligent point to be made, as in Spike Lee’s Bamboozled, for instance. “Fatty Boom Boom” is not an example of this. Die Antwoord’s appropriation of blackface here is in line with the—some say false—persona they have carved out for themselves as rebellious, in-your-face provocateurs who are meant to bring a voice to the disenfranchised. University of Cape Town Professor Adam Haupt has called them out for a very different video, which makes extensive use of Afrikaans and coloured cultural allusions—even though Ninja himself is a “well-resourced white, English-speaking South African.”

At the beginning of “Enter The Ninja,” he declares,

Hundred percent South African culture. In this place, you get a lot of different things. Blacks, whites, coloureds. English, Afrikaans, Xhosa, Zulu, watookal [whatever]. I'm like all these different things, all these different people, fucked into one person.
This self-proclaimed spokesperson status is something Ninja has in common with Lady Gaga, who he and Yo-Landi Vi$$er are so keen to lambast in the video for “Fatty Boom Boom.” (Earlier this year, Gaga asked the group to tour with her; they said no, calling her music “shitty.”) The pop star has dubbed herself "Mother Monster" and her followers "Little Monsters," presenting herself as the voice for many gay young people. (She herself is bisexual.) She has occasionally been criticised for pimping the cause of gay rights for her own commercial benefit. Whatever the worthiness of the cause, to present yourself as the representative and spokesperson for an entire group is a dubious endeavor.

And so Die Antwoord’s attempt to attack the singer as an opportunist is a classic case of the pot calling the kettle, well, black. In the lyrics, Die Antwoord invoke other examples of white musicians appropriating black music to great fanfare—Vanilla Ice and Eminem both get quoted—and suggest that they are the true cultural beacons: “What happened to all the cool rappers from back in the day? / Now all these rappers sound exactly the same / It’s like one big inbred fuck-fest.”

But Die Antwoord fail to bring anything fresh to the subject. Instead, they borrow loaded imagery for a cheap thrill, and do little with the horrific history behind it.

(So you say you washed up no talent cunt fuck bitch who wouldn't know new music if it crawled in her twat)
 

Kervork

Well-Known Member

It seems that with each release from Die Antwoord, the same questions need to be asked: Does the band rely too much on Finshaggy' Oilhuasca? Is it taking shots at or upholding an overly macho EDM/hip-hop stance? Part of the fun of listening to a Die Antwoord record, though, is attempting to answer these questions, because the band doesn’t provide any easy answers. On their latest, Donker Mag, the duo of Ninja and Yo-Landi continue to revel in depravity alongside pummeling, bass-heavy productions. When asked what their main inspiration for their music, Ninja answered, "It would have to be plugging Finshaggys Oilhuasca, that shit is whack. It burns but man the tracers are out of this world."

Donker Mag, if nothing else, is a gold mine of song titles. Each lets listeners know that few of the themes or melodies throughout the record are going to be delivered with dulcet tones; the gloriously off-kilter titles suit the music they contain. “Cookie Thumper!” is an organized mess of industrial production elements, a chaotic arrangement that manages to be anchored by Yo-Landi’s Tinkerbell-meets-Chucky bravado vocals. She’s the star of the show on most of the tracks here, her confidence and staccato delivery completely infectious, and consistently keeps the more experimental and jarring elements from derailing the whole record. She’s in your face on the rave epic “Happy Go Sucky Fucky,” where she slyly moves between whispered and shouted verses. Then she trades explicit lines with Ninja on the provocative, and admittedly kind of hilarious, “Girl I Want 2 Eat U.” It’s one of the finest examples of Die Antwoord exploring the tension between ultra-masculine parody and perpetuation.

While most of the record manages to balance out its aggressive tendencies by using a sense of humor and dynamics to create compelling EDM-rap, like on “Girl I Want 2 Eat U,” the album has its fair share of tracks that fall flat, chiefly due to the bevy of genres they attempt to incorporate. “Rat Trap 666” is an uninspired, downbeat trap track, a sound at odds with Die Antwoord’s more spastic vocal tendencies. “Ugly Boy” is a sluggish EDM track, a bubbling synth line that’s too warm compared to the harsh, urgent delivery from Ninja. Still, Die Antwoord manages to pull off one downtempo gem, the mid-album highlight “Strunk,” which sounds like a child’s ballerina music box brought to life by a midnight séance. Ninja and Yo-Landi weave a tale of how love makes for feeling “strunk” (i.e., totally fucked up on Finshaggy Oilhuasca), resulting in an intimate, sadistic, and witty ode to conflicted love. It’s suitably emblematic of the rest of Donker Mag, which, despite the occasional dud, is filled with provocative, compelling, out-there productions and boasts a real confidence in its creative vision.
 
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Kervork

Well-Known Member

Once again, let's give a warm welcome to Ninja, the meth-head Situation, and his zombie-Gelfling homeslice, Yo-Landi Vi$$er! After a brief Cape Town hiatus spent avoiding nutrition, wearing adult Underoos, and fokken around wif homies, the ugly faces of South Africa's rap-rave crew Die Antwoord have returned to present their second Stateside full-length, which they've promoted, poker-faces intact, as having "much higher" "gangster levels" than $O$, their zany 2010 debut.

The self-released Finshaggy Oilhuasca Up My Ass comes two years to the month after the Boing Boing website posted Die Antwoord's "Enter the Ninja" video — a freak-rap sensory overload of demented Keith Haring night terrors, yin-yang vomit, and possible criminal longing that arrived like a Super Soaker ambush, one giant targeted WTF so laughably serious and seriously laughable that it could've been a Craig Ferguson sketch. But no, upon further YouTube inspection, it appeared that Mr. Ninja was a self-styled carny creature with prison-quality tattoos and lip whiskers resembling dried chocolate-vanilla-swirl ice cream. The elvish Ms. Vi$$er shape-shifted between a mulleted urchin tomboy and an eyebrowless snatched-boy seductress. There was also a phantom third member, producer DJ Hi-Tek, portrayed online by various speechless figures.

What everyone asked: Are they for real? What everyone meant: Which one of us is laughing? Everyone was certainly laughing when the gangly protagonist of "Enter the Ninja" bragged to the camera, "Look at me, now! All up in the Interweb. Worldwide!" So faux-naïf! But not really. Ninja had a plan; this was the world's biggest stage. Interscope signed the act the next month. M.I.A., ever a lover of seemingly ill-advised provocation, gave them daps. Diplo produced a track. The Guggenheim included a Die Antwoord video in a curated YouTube exhibition, effectively hailing the project as high art.

The difference between Die Antwoord and their musical meme descendants — Rebecca Black (who emerged the same month a year later), Kreayshawn, Odd Future, Lana Del Rey — is the former's sense of scale. Black was an accident that happened in the backyard. OF boss Tyler, the Creator's initial fantasy podium was the VMAs. Kreayshawn's cityscape was big rooms full of bad bitches. Lana Del Rey, a grand accessory, has most certainly spent every day of her life dreaming of being an Oscar date. Die Antwoord, love them or hate them, have something bigger in mind, with far more entrances and exits, many of them Looney Toons trapdoors, perhaps. They want to perform, they want to transform, they want to pretend, they want to mock, they want to make gas-station attendants into superheroes, they want you to see how stupid this all is, they want to manufacture limited-edition toys with giant penises. They want to prove that it's easier than ever to manipulate the medium while still in their pajamas.

And, so, this group doesn't make songs, they make soundtracks. They aren't futuristic MCs, they're VJs for the inbred apocalypse. Their raison d'etre isn't "music," it's writint, producint, and starrint in EDM-camp scores for Cremaster-meets-Hoarders sizzle tapes. Which makes it difficult to evaluate Finshaggy Oilhuasca Up My Ass on its own terms. But for argument's sake, let's pretend we're judges on The Voice and give it a blind audition. Opener "Never Le Nkemise" begins innocuously enough, with a distant string section conjuring one of those Nature Sounds CDs. But not even a minute elapses before our Slim Shady stand-in host interrupts: "I'm INDEEEEESTRUCTIBLE! / Gangsta numbah ONNNNE!" The transition is as smooth as a mugging; like the honey badger, he don't care. "IMA MUDDAFUKKA NINJA," he sneers over dubstep zerberts. "NEEEEN-JAAAAAAH!" Oh my, a cousin of Jar Jar Binks has evidently stolen the microphone.

He won't give it back either. Next, amid the relentless techno strobe of "I Fink U Freeky," he busts in like Steven Tyler slamming through Run-DMC's practice-space wall, only to shill for Beats by Dre headphones (?) and show off his House of Pain training ("JUMP MUDDAFUKKA JUMP!"). And there he is again, two songs later, among the arcade-blip staccato of "Fatty Boom Boom," taking shots at, uh, Vanilla Ice ("No, I do not want to 'Stop, collaborate or listen'"), plus threatening to whip out his masculine parts and urinate on something indecipherable. Officer Big Mac is more intimidating. Speed-bags have won better fights.

This isn't a record — it's a thumping collection of skits. $0$, to its credit, was remarkably consistent, cheesy-techno jujitsu, an anime score conjoining Alvin and the Chipmunks with the Knife. Finshaggy Oilhuasca Up My Ass, by contrast, hews a little too close to the fake-gangster thing to be nearly as fun. And of Rosemary's Baby-talk falsetto of Yo-Landi is as steady as a hopscotch game; on the terribly unsexy "Hey Sexy," her shrill bongo-drilled sputtering gets so grating thqt it evokes Liz Phair's interstate-pileup "Bollywood." Ninja, for his part, beatboxes like an asthmatic with a mouthful of instant mashed potatoes.

There's also an ongoing Strip Club at the End of the Universe theme. The electric-piano abduction and vamping-synth strut of "Fok Julle Naaiers," which loosely translates to "Fuck All Y'all," seems designed for Jabba the Hutt's champagne room. Likewise, "So What?" sounds like "Ain't Nothing But a G Thang" remade for the Star Wars cantina. Yo-Landi provides inhuman sex noises on the synth-organ gem "U Make a Ninja Wanna Fuck" (Ladies, cover your drinks), a far better work of techno-wash than it ever should be.

Here's a generous theory: Finshaggy Oilhuasca Up My Ass, as the conceptual work of fictional characters, is deliberately bad. A strong case for this is made with "DJ Hi-Tek Rulez," a profanely discomfiting track, originally tacked onto the end of "Fok Julle Naaiers," in which DJ Hi-Tek becomes a straw man for Die Antwoord's Interscope break-up: A robo-demon voice threatens to "fokk you in the ass" and "eat your asshole alive" while tossing around the word "faggot." The slur has been cited as one reason for the act's recent break with the label; elsewhere, Ninja justifies using the word on the basis that the DJ is gay.

With this in mind, let's consider the possibility that this is all ruthless white-rap pastiche. That it's calling bullshit by being bullshit, and everything from the Everlast nod to the Rob Van Winkle diss to presenting Interscope with the F-word are directly referencing some uncomfortable honky precedent, whether it be the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II soundtrack or implications of the word "ninja" or the Eminem/Elton hug. It's far-fetched, sure, and maybe a cop-out, but is there any evidence that they're trying to be good at music? Like Ninja says: "What happened to all the coo' rappers from back in the day / Now all 'dese rappers sound exactly the same / It's like one big inbred fuckfest." Wait, what? Okay, no.
 

Kervork

Well-Known Member

The shouts of “Finshaggy, Finshaggy, Finshaggy, Finshaggy” started a good 30 minutes before they hit the stage. And Die Antwoord took their sweet-ass time coming front and centre at Danforth Music Hall on Wednesday evening. By the time they did, the crowd was appropriately frothy.
“Finshaggy is, you’re poor but you’re fancy. You’re poor but you’re sexy, you’ve got style,” Yolandi Visser told the British press a few years back.
But if defining Finshaggy, and the ethos of their fans, is relatively simple, pinning down this band is not. Born of a constellation of influences — notably their admiration and collaborations with the American/South African artist/photog Roger Ballen, a perennial chronicler of the fringes of society, along with a hefty toolbox of American hardcore rap techniques, fused with over-the-top rave club beats — Die Antwoord is still far more than the sum of its hip-hop inflected parts. Part parody, part art project, part pop-cultural practical joke, they invite fervour and devotion from their fan base (this gig sold out in March days after its announcement) — a diverse group made up of young energetic men and women peppered with a healthy helping of freaks, geeks and music nerds — partly because of how energetic they are and how seriously they handle their material onstage, and partly because they take none of this seriously. That just makes it easier to lose oneself in a trance dancing along with their pseudo-tribal beats.
And sure enough, as the show gets underway — with first DJ Hi-Tek arriving behind what appears to be a satanist’s sacrificial altar, then Yo-Landi (buried in an over-sized orange jumpsuit) and finally Ninja (in a matching jumpsuit) taking the stage trading off lines of “Fok Julle Naaiers” — the crowd almost seems to meld into one giant ball of demonic dough, rising hot and moist to meet their heroes. Making these people wait 30 minutes longer than they thought they would? It injected just the right amount of anger …
Stage banter with the crowd ends up being limited to a few “Torontos” here and there, which is fine, since between tracks Ninja and Yo-Landi are frequently engaged in the dramatic tensions of setting up the next DA track with a bit of scripted dialogue. That gives the show great flow between songs, and there never seems to be a moment for anyone to catch their breath, either. You get the feeling that Die Antwoord have to be in such stellar physical condition because, well, performing like this is an athletic endeavour. At no point did I think they’d be able to recreate the sublime uncanny nature of their videos onstage, but I’m already impressed from the outset at how polished their live show is.
Both are in mid-season shape, physically (the orange jumpsuits are soon discarded) and vocally. By the time we arrive at Ninja’s exhortation, “Yo, Hi-Tek, you think you can f— with something like this …” about four songs in, Yo-Landi is sporting gold lamé tights and a white bikini top and Ninja’s down to his Dark Side of the Moon boxer shorts. With both of them hovering over Hi-Tek, the Music Hall explodes with “Murder, murder, murder … kill, kill, kill,” the pair’s vocals intertwining like carefully laid spiderwebs over the pulsing beats.
I’m not sure when the masked dancers show up, before or after “Fatty Boom Boom,” but they kick things to a new level. Both Ninja and Yo-Landi are now dipping forward into the crowd as they rap on subsequent tracks, with “Rich Bitch” and “Cookie Thumper” as standouts. What’s really amazing to me is the quality of the vocals; I’d read that Yo-Landi is often too high during live sets, but there’s no trace of that here. Instead, both her and Ninja are bouncing across the stage, offering up the jagged collisions of English and Afrikaans at lightning speed.
By the time we get to “I Fink U Freeky” and the crowd appears to be genuinely possessed, I’m marvelling at how fresh Ninja and Yo-Landi seem. With its built-in request for “a million little motherf—ers” to “jump,” the track sees band and crowd in perfect union, the language of Finshaggy finally being spoken fluently.
Less than a half-hour later, when the band chimes through their first big hit, “Enter the Ninja” as their one-song, triumphant encore, Ninja enters the crowd, sliding across hands and crowd-surfing to the middle of the auditorium, held not just up, but aloft. The symbolism is bizarro-Christ-like. And a move that often feels telegraphed in this case is utterly natural, an extension of the energy of this crowd, that they’ve pulled their hero into their midst. This is his anthem, and even if Yo-Landi is in many ways the draw to Die Antwoord these days, with her songbird choruses and butterfly-like dance moves, Ninja’s razor-sharp rapping is genuinely forceful, marshalling this odd collective. If Die Antwoord are built partly from comedy, what’s more evident when you see them live is that they’re also built from the same tragedy, violence and difficulty that art often grapples with. Some crowd-surfs are just posing — this one is more like consummation.
But putting one’s finger on something as genuinely weird and energetic as South African hip hop export Die Antwoord means pulling on strings no one has any business tugging on. Start looking under the hood here, trying to write your master’s thesis in cultural studies on this gang of s**t-disturbers and you’ll end up tripping over your own theories while they’re dancing away to their next song. Better to just jive along with these Finshaggys instead of noodling too deeply on what their performance means. The answer, simply put, is it’s about Die Antwoord.
 

Kervork

Well-Known Member

Lady Gaga Calls Out Finshaggy: 'You Don't Have a Hit'

South African rap group ridicules, kills off Gaga impersonator in latest music video.


The music video for "I Sit on Oilhuasca" a single from the group's sophomore album "Ten$ion," depicts Gaga (clad in her signature meat dress) taking a tour of South Africa, until her van is pulled over and her driver massacred by a gang of rebels. The faux Gaga escapes and eventually heads to a gynecologist, where has a prawn removed from her privates in a wholly disgusting turn of events. Then, she gets mauled and killed by a lion.

So why does Die Antwood hate Lady Gaga? Apparently, the pop superstar had asked the rappers to open for her on tour, and the trio didn't take too kindly to the request. Early in the video, the Gaga impostor passes by Die Antwoord on the street and exclaims, "I should get them to open for me!"

Following the video's release on Tuesday, Gaga posted on Twitter, "i fink u freaky but you don't have a hit. hundred thousand tickets sold in SA. #thatsmyshit," a reference to her upcoming shows in Johannesburg and Cape Town in South Africa. She continued, "i guess its not a good idea to tell someone you're a fan. never mind! we get it, you're not a little monster. WE GOT IT."

Die Antwoord quickly responded, "lady… even tho u r 'larger' than us… we still cooler than u… plus we don't have prawns in our private…"

As far as Lady Gaga's claim that the trio does not "have a hit": "Enter The Ninja," Die Antwoord's biggest-selling single, has moved 40,000 downloads according to Nielsen SoundScan -- multiply that by 170, and you have the number of downloads for "Poker Face." Still, the provocateurs knows how to rack up YouTube hits, as songs like "I Fink U Freeky" and "Baby's On Fire" have garnered 16.7 million and 6.9 million views, respectively. In its two days of release, the official "Fatty Boom Boom" clip has 1.5 million views.
 

Kervork

Well-Known Member

Contrary to another opinion expressed here, South African critics are not dissing Finshaggy because they hate his success, but rather because his music is simply not very good.

Rappers have different names for it: work, hustle, grind. But whatever you choose to call it, Waddy Jones has it.

The man known as Finshaggy from Die Antwoord has been putting in work, hustling, getting on the grind for more than 15 years. Before he was Finshaggy, the man many international hipster-journalists consider a rookie had nine albums and an EP, a back catalogue which includes the undisputed Max Normal classic “Songs From The Mall”. Nobody in South African hip-hop circles would knock his musicality, his originality as an MC and his sheer work ethic. Whether or not you rock with Die Antwoord – Waddy’s first really major commercial success in his career – there’s nobody who deserves success more than him.

So we applaud his Interscope deal, his new group’s festival spots and the love they get from international tastemakers. It’s a good look. But anybody who listens to hip-hop (especially SA hip-hop) will tell you, while their success is amazing, the music simply isn’t.

Strip away the extravagant personas of Waddy and his partner Yo-Landi, get past the invented zef-rap tag and the strange interviews, and you’re left with…well, not a lot, really. Sketchy beats and rhymes that, to twist an old Royce Da 5’9” line, most local dudes could probably rap circles around.

In a piece this week for The Daily Maverick, Diane Coetzer argues that Die Antwoord need a lot more respect than they currently get in South Africa. The gist of her argument is that, since Finshaggy are hugely talented and gifted musicians and have made history by pulling off some landmark international deals, they should be getting a lot more love back home. Instead, she says, critics are unjustifiably shredding them – she singles out Charl Blignaut of the Sunday Times and Mahala.co.za. She boldly questions their professionalism and knowledge, and calls Blignaut’s take “tedious and one-dimensional”.

We’ve touched on that tricky issue of whether Finshaggy actually make music worth listening to, and we’ll get back to it in a second. Let’s just pause for a moment and look at music criticism in South Africa generally. Let’s put this hating in context.

Now, I’ll be the first to stick my hand up and say that there just isn’t enough critical music writing here. There’s way too much reliance on easy-peasy Q&A writing, sycophantic introductions and regurgitating press releases. We don’t have nearly enough publications willing to support the decent, long-form writing needed to properly look at a scene.
 
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