"Veel Vloeke En Verse" - Fokofpolisiekar, live at O2 Academy Islington, London (June 2025)

Fokofpolisiekar delivered veel vloeke en verse at O2 Academy Islington last night, as the proudly South African punks played their first UK show in over a decade.

The Saffa-strong crowd was loud, loyal, and lekker, lapping up all the anarchic Afrikaanse lyrics during Die Bende's career-spanning set.

Imagine the Sex Pistols if they instead stayed together for over two decades (with no lineup changes) and consistently made new music, while also spawning a collective of brother bands that completely revolutionised a country’s alternative music scene.

At the turn of the century, Fokofpolisiekar emerged as post-apartheid pioneers who channelled confusion and cultural reckoning into rock music that transcended linguistic barriers.

Their music found me, a native English speaker, in a high-school Afrikaans second-language class, being taught the lyrics from this new group whose name Meneer flinched to say out loud in full (the poetry section of the syllabus was never the same after that).

Fokofpolisiekar - 'Hemel Op Die Platteland' (live at O2 Academy Islington)

For a band that’s been going for over 20 years (and opened for Green Day earlier this year at Calabash South Africa), Fokof still bring the fire to the braai no matter what.

Fresh from the Melkweg in Amsterdam the night before, the likes of feral bassist Wynand Myburgh fuelled every song live with the maniacal energy of a man half his age. Frontman Francois Van Coke held court and crowdsurfed, while guitarists Hunter Kennedy and Johnny De Ridder are still the relatively calm wings steering the Fokof flight, with Snake Venter bringing the boom from the engine room at the back.

I already felt like an ou toppie going into the gig, before I realised dis nou ses-TIEN jaar later since my one and only Fokof show back in Stellies 2009 (with many aKING, Van Coke Kartel, and Die Heuwels Fantasties ones in between). En soms voel als nogsteeds dieselfde.

Daar's minder tyd, but the choons remain profane, poetic, and timeless.

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