There are few acoustic-driven acts that carry any lengthened impact beyond its outline, the idea of a reserved performance often less memorable than a stage dive that didn’t end in disaster. Yet in that rare instance where quality overcomes excess, theatrical stage antics aligned with a more amplified performance renders a less meaningful result. What one hears is suddenly more significant, every detail accounted for more fully, and the precedence of sound above spectacle subsequently valued instead.
Francois van Coke, leading frontman of renowned rock outfits Fokofpolisiekar and Van Coke Kartel, masters a clear fluidity within this spectrum as a musician both mindful and attentive to the disparate energies such respective acts may require. His current endeavour as a solo artist serves as the practical demonstration thereof, affirming his versatility of performance when tailored to suit each alternate setting. This acquired skill is one that proved itself worthy in what seems like an endless cycle of touring during a recent relaxed evening slot at the always-scenic Café Roux.
Laughter, wine, and conversation make the rounds as an increasingly rowdy audience patiently awaits Van Coke’s preceding set. What follows extends beyond a mere one-man show, its stripped-down form as vibrant and hard-hitting as it is tender. An “oldie” functions as the opening number, the seated crowd kindly encouraged to sing along to the iconic lyrics of Fokofpolisiekar’s ‘Hemel Op Die Platteland’. It’s a gentle rendition swiftly met by the upbeat progression of ‘Moontlik Nooit’, accompanied by the instrumentation and backing vocals of Jedd Kossew and Richard Onraet. Their collective effort enables the ensuing transitions between tracks to organically flow from one to the other, forming a well-rehearsed and consistent foundation for each developing melody. Van Coke therefore remains predominantly attentive to his vocal delivery, the instances of strengthened vocal lines and granular textures untamed by the evening’s overarching form.
The soon-to-be dad wears his years in the industry well, effortlessly interacting with the audience as he motivates additional sing-alongs, clap-alongs, and cuss-alongs all eagerly reciprocated by the buzzing crowd. He constantly moves about the stage, indicating breaks of rhythm or a proceeding guitar lick delivered by Kossew through fervent hand gestures and nods. It’s an unwavering passion that unveils itself uniquely within every accumulated layer of sound, ranging from the fiery play upon lyricism in ‘I Want Brandy’ to the vulnerability and romanticism of ‘Tot Die Son Uitkom’. The movement of the set thus aligns itself to a fluid emotive trajectory that includes the light-hearted, the more sentimental, and the distinct appeal of angst-type anthems.
Van Coke comically remarks how Karen Zoid isn’t going to magically emerge from the kitchen as the intro of ‘Toe Vind Ek Jou’ is played, insisting that the audience rather sing her part in order to complete the duet. “Almost good,” he teases while grinning as they willingly oblige, the final words “geen pretensie geen beheer” ringing across the room as the cluster of voices happily sing the ballad together.
The Bellville-bound stalwart of South African rock effectively fosters and retains an immersive stage persona, seemingly overcome and unequivocally driven by the push and pull of each melodic refrain. His voice remains continuously striking for the entire duration of the set, its range and depth a quality of sound itself of spectacle-like calibre. Van Coke humbly thanks the audience as the act’s “climax” (as he names it) unfolds, praising their engaging presence and vocal talent before the trio delves into the first verse of ‘Behoort Aan Niemand Nie’ as the evening’s farewell. It’s a poignant ending to an undoubtedly resonant performance that allowed listeners the pleasure of listening, its lasting impression admirably answered with reverberated bouts of applause and cheer.
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