Die Antwoord Brings Zef Style to Marathon Music Works

Given The Spin’s irrational fear of showing up anywhere early, our arrival Friday night at Marathon Music Works for the sold-out Die Antwoord show couldn’t have been more timely. While we had just missed opening DJ’s Coach and Rate, we’ve spent enough blurry nights at the duo’s monthly “Shadynasty” party at Foobar to know they’re two of the finest mix masters in town. No doubt we'll probably see them yet again in just a week or two.

We found a cozy spot near the back of the mob while tribal, ethereal sounds echoed from the house speakers for a good 15 or 20 minutes, often crescendoing to such effect that this increasingly impatient sold-out (and heavily accessorized crowd) would erupt into uproarious false-alarm applause that often simmered into antagonistic jeering and repeated chants of “ZEF! ZEF! ZEF!” Gussied up like the main attraction themselves, this crowd was an eclectic mix of punks, club kids, ravers, metal heads and goths — to say nothing of squares like The Spin hiding in plain sight between what spoke to us at the time as a more affluent and diverse Juggalo variant.

The crowd's collective patience (or lack thereof) was rewarded soon enough, when a video projection of DJ and visual artist Leon Botha’s face — the face of the band’s viral big-bang “Enter the Ninja” video. It’s a freaky visual, but possibly also a moving tribute considering Botha died shortly after

four years ago and that image has opened every DA show we’ve seen. Following was another intro, this time from DJ High Tek who, sporting a giant orange hoodie and pit bull mask only to soon be shirtless for the rest of the set, threatened repeatedly to “fuck you in the ass, faggot” before South Africa’s most notorious exports — MC's Ninja and Yolandi Visser — came out cloaked in identically hooded attire.

The duo Kicked things off with a few bangers from last year’s Donker Mag, before reminding us just how many gems their three-disc back catalog holds. “I Fink U Freaky," “Fatty Boom Boom” and the newer “Ugly Boy” — not to mention two or three outfit changes — were all unloaded before the middle of the set. Ripping a head-spinning fast-and-furious flow, Ninja could have easily held the room on his own. When he wasn’t coaching the crowd in a frenzied call-and-response or beat-boxing between songs, he was becoming the first non-local MC we've heard rhyme “murder” and “kill” with “Nashville.”

Of course, skilled as he may be, Ninja is nothing without his Alien-pixie-dream-girl-counterpart Yolandi, who was every bit the main attraction here. But much to the very vocal dismay of folks in the back of the room, she was also relatively invisible for most of the show. Her chipmunk-inflected yelp echoed loud and clear, but her tiny frame was almost entirely out of view when she wasn’t perched atop the catwalk mounted in front of the DJ enclave. Often, an incredibly skilled background dancer or two would materialize on this catwalk with African-inspired maneuvers and good-old fashioned twerking. Eerie visuals, fan-art compilations and a blinding and seizure-inspiring light show blasted from behind, rounding this out into a high-octane spectacle from start to finish. Marathon’s cavernous innards made us feel at times like we were at an old school warehouse party during faves like “Baby’s on Fire” and most especially the epic encore of “Enter the Ninja”.

When Die Antwoord first broke in the States, there was much ado about the alter egos that comprise the duo, with critics dissecting the percentage of parody, practical joke and conceptual elements at play — but at this point, who cares ? Die Antwoord is pure, high-energy, high-art, low-brow entertainment, purveyed by two incredibly dedicated and talented performers. Besides, with this much energy in the room, who’s got time to over-think it?