The essence of éVoid: a 2000 retrospective Twenty years have elapsed since éVoid (then simply Void) began to excite young rock enthusiasts on the South African club and concert rock circuit. The fond, joyous memories of this special band and its music seem to flow like the untainted waters of a languishing African river in no hurry to find the ocean, where they would only merge with many other rivers and lose their distinct and evocative individuality.
By 1982, éVoid – strongly centred on the alluring songwriting, musical and even dramatic performing skills of the Windrich brothers, Lucien and Erik – had cracked the proverbial "big time". In their home city of Johannesburg, éVoid was packing the young music-and-dance enthusiasts into dark and smoky clubs, among them The Chelsea Hotel in Catherine Street on the Berea-Hillbrow border and Club DV8 and Dawson Hotel's The Venue in the city centre.
They would later make a big impact on the larger concert circuit, playing at several annual Free People's Concerts of the University of the Witwatersrand and at 1985's outrageously popular The Concert in the Park in support of Operation Hunger, as well as various one-night indoor rock festivals. éVoid toured the country and left its celebratory sounds reverberating in Cape Town, Port Elizabeth, East London, Margate, Durban, Pretoria and wherever else the band sojourned.
In December 1982, having seen the band perform on an especially memorable night at The Venue in the Dawson Hotel, I wrote for the now defunct Rand Daily Mail (December 13 1982): "éVoid is the most exciting avant garde rock band to emerge on the local scene in recent times. And if they maintain the high standard of their vibrant performances at The Venue, they will no doubt continue gathering an ardent cult following.
"Their music – whether original or not – is an intriguing and shrewdly crafted collage of popular contemporary idioms. The rudiments of New Wave, Floydian-type concept rock, AOR pop and hints of traditional African rhythms have been meticulously fused to create their own unique brand of flamboyant rock.
"Their songs are largely defined by sharp-edged, taut arrangements centring on the synthesiser pyrotechnics of Erik Windrich. The sound features a wealth of melodic hooks, an explorative but disciplined rhythmic force and, at times, a lyrical eloquence. Guitarist Lucien Windrich and drummer George Voros are energetic, competent musicians who consistently complement the orchestral landscapes sketched by the nimble-fingered Erik Windrich."
Looking back almost 18 years, this remains a succinct (even if flawed) introductory encapsulation of éVoid's music. Brothers Lucien and Erik Windrich and then drummer George Voros (replaced by Wayne Harker in early 1983) were mesmerising. And not just because of their flamboyant and celebratory musical weaves. They had irresistible visual magnetism, too. This is significant given South Africa's prevailing sociopolitical malaise of the 1980s.
It was the time of the infamous P W Botha, the finger-wagging Groot Krokodil and his prolonged State of Emergency – not to forget economic sanctions, the cultural boycott, Artists Against Apartheid, End Conscription Campaign, the impassioned pleas to the world for the establishment of justice and liberty in South Africa by the likes of Bishop Desmond Tutu and, later, the rise of the United Democratic Front (UDF). The mood out on the streets and in the parks, clubs, shebeens, factories and mines was frequently sombre, ominous and disconcerting.
Music became a perfect foil for these uneasy times, a chance to dance into a near trance-like state late into the night and therein forget the oppression and depression. The more joyous the melodies, the more jiveable the rhythms, the more flamboyant the costumes and the more sanguine the band's spirit, the more one could indulge in hedonistic fun, while also believing in a deeper, more spiritual sense that hope for the future should never be abandoned. Like a symbolic lighthouse beaming over rocky waters, éVoid was a light of hope, happiness, compassion and celebration in dark times.
They could be extravagantly warm, light-hearted, joyous and carefree, even downright funny and frivolous. Just listen to the fourth song, Junk Jive. These qualities were quintessential to the complete éVoid experience. But this is not to suggest that Erik and Lucien, the principal éVoid songwriters and aural architects, were in any manner ignorant, insensitive, irresponsible or indifferent to their audiences, their surroundings and their times. Far from it. They were tuned in deeply to, and inextricably from, the spirit of their times, but they never stooped towards cheap and angry soapbox politicking and proselytising.
There was a profundity to many of their performances and a compassionate sensitivity to some of their lyrics. In troubled political times, éVoid had the intuition, soulfulness and, perhaps, even the foresight to transcend political outrage, on one extreme, and the indifference of apoliticism on the other. Just listen to what was for many fans their timeless and defining moment of glory, Urban Warrior, or their later recordings completed in London, the touching and understated Race of Tan and Jeremiah and Josephin
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