It’s just the most delicious frequency.” Hearing this, Visser pulls her knees up under her tank-top hoodie, then pulls the hood over her head and cinches it tight.įor an album that contains track titles like “Gucci Coochie” and “U Like Boobies?” the new songs are surprisingly intense and personal. “I remember thinking, ‘How can I compete?’ I’m in love with the cut of her voice. “When we laid down our verses on this album, Yolandi burned me nearly every single time,” Ninja says.
Their intensely codependent dynamic has long baffled observers, leading some to wonder if their behavior is an elaborate form of performance art. You could say the same about the garrulous Ninja and the reticent Visser. “There’s a Zulu saying that goes, ‘Spear sharpens spear,’” says Ninja. duties with Muggs, and they pushed each other. A dizzying tour de force, it veers between rave numbers, raw humor (including a cameo by Jack Black), moody gloom and melancholia - which might have something to do with their recent (and very L.A.) study of chaos magick, an occult offshoot that involves spells, sigils and hypnotic music.ĭie Antwoord’s founding D.J., known as God (formerly Hi-Tek), began sharing D.J. It was the first time Die Antwoord had ever used an outside producer and the resulting album, the new “ Mount Ninji and da Nice Time Kid,” is unlike anything the group has done before. I wanted to push them to places they’ve never gone and they were totally willing to experiment.” “Nobody pitched anybody on working together - it was just organic. “They came to the studio and we just started catching a vibe,” Muggs says. Lawrence Muggerud, a founder of the influential SoCal hip-hop group Cypress Hill. How could that work in a city where, among other things, no one walks? But then, on a visit to L.A., a photographer friend took them to a quinceañera and introduced them to one of their idols, DJ Muggs, a.k.a. Their process, for years, was to jot down lyrics as they walked around Cape Town. “Like, what would we write about?” Visser continues. With matching mullets and meth-chic attire, the seemingly out-of-place pair is also oddly at home. Ninja, 42, and Visser, 32, the duo that pioneered Zef culture - South Africa’s response to America’s so-called white trash - are a bit of both. insider or the carelessness of an interloper. battle with an Oscar winner requires either the confidence of an L.A. “Thank you,” she adds, as the waiter shuffles over to the stereo.Ī few moments later, Tarantino stands, unsheathes an LP and drops the needle on side two of Rod Stewart’s “Every Picture Tells a Story,” then raises his glass to Ninja and Visser in a facetious toast - but they already have their backs to him and, tellingly, the volume is significantly lower.Įngaging in this sort of D.J. “Oh, yeah,” says Yolandi Visser, the shyer of the two. “Can you not listen to that man and turn the music down,” he says to the waiter in a snarling, Afrikaans-inflected stage whisper. Ninja, one half of the influential rave-rap act Die Antwoord, is none too pleased that from across the restaurant at the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles, Quentin Tarantino has cranked up the stereo, blasting Sarah Vaughan’s voice.
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