class dismissed

here’s the last song, for this unit anyway. In future I’ll drop the teaching metaphor which has actually become quite tiresomse.

 Last word from Zola – a giant of Kwaito. Another great tune.

post script to lesson 5 – another fantastic video by Freshlyground

Yes! A complete fusion of sounds:look out for the distinct twang of the Mbaqanga guitar and uplifting bass that is threaded neatly through its groove. Nothing quite like a bit of township jive

some lessons in South African music: genres defied

Further to previous lessons (please look at them for the sake of my blog stats and your own musical education) here is a band that typifies south african genre busting. The beauty of good South African music has always been for me the way in which many bands embrace an eclectic mix of styles to create inspiring soundscapes. The song is by Freshlyground andthe video is fantastic. Listen with your earphones on. 

some lessons in South African music: lesson 4

what’s this one? kwaito again – an important proponent of the genre Mandoza and some oke called Danny K- dunno who he is – that’s the second video.

The first video  is a band called Mafikizolo – i just  love their dance sound: don’t think you could call it Kwaito. Township Pop? Whatever – it’s a good sound.

some lessons in South African music: lesson 3 Rock

This one of South Africa’s greatest ever  Rock outfits and I think this song lets them down. It’s a litlle more commercial than what they normally do and the power of Arno Caarstens voice is dampened by YouTube. I’m afraid it’s you americans that are mostly at fault here, and the Brits: how else do they market a very unique Hard Rock sound without making it more accesible? Look for the trumpet – the key to what makes them different from the rest.

some lessons in South African music: lesson 2 South African Hip Hop

Lesson 2 involves a band called Max Normal and again this is a class video. It’s not their best tune, it’s not very Hip Hop and they’re fantastic live so a video takes away from some of their quality. Still it’s an excellent video, a good song and a lesson in how good a lot of what comes out of south africa is.

some lessons in South African music: lesson 1 Kwaito

The first is by a group called TKZ or TKZee. Their type of music is usually labelled as Kwaito, a mix of township style music, Hip Hop and House, but this is a lot more Hip Hop in style. The rap is, of course, indigineous, not English.

 This is a good tune and the video’s pretty good too.

  

Spider man 3 in 7 words

Great special effects; too many neat coincedences

Q&A

The question had to be asked

but no one wanted to answer

no one wanted the answer

so we all fiddled with our pens and

stared out the window -

the sky was crisp and blue,

a hint of azure at the edges -

ignorance was our hiding place,

its warm glow protected us

and under its radiator

we laughed and played

while the question lingered

and the answer evaporated

into the mist

Episodic story part 5: the media

But I feel nothing. What can the police do if this man decides to splatter my brains over the wall? They are here for Nyathi, not me and the odds aren’t stacked in my favour. Very few possible outcomes involve me leaving with my life intact, despite this man’s promise not to kill me. Police bullets kill just as easily and a lot more regularly.

“So…now what?” I ask morosely, flicking the cigarette onto my lawn. Nyathi, ignores me, walks over to the Trelidor and slams it shut, closing the curtains, then picks up my portable phone and dials a number. “Hello… Inspector Engelbrecht? I imagine you’re parked outside now, right?” …pause… “Okay. Well, listen up. I’ve got the front and back doors booby trapped…” he winks at me conspiratorially, “so don’t try anything. Besides, I have a .45 pointed at Gerald Lupton’s soft little white skull so the slightest manoeuvre means I pull the trigger.” He pauses dramatically to let it sink in then… “My demands are simple. I want you to let Khumalo and his cameraman in. I know what they both look like so don’t try anything. Once the interview’s over I’ll give myself up. So, if you do everything like I say, this will go smoothly and no one will get hurt. Kulungile?” Nyathi stands staring at the floor, his hand tight on the pistol which is hanging at his side. I can see he is tense despite his attempt to play it cool– the veins in his neck are rigid and there are beads of sweat on his brow which he wipes with his gun hand then… “Good…I knew you’d see things my way.” He turns the phone off and grabs me painfully by the arm, gripping tightly; all pretences are gone – now it’s all business. “Up,” he demands, motioning in the direction of the lounge with his pistol and it’s at this point I realise how busy he must have been while I was out: all the curtains in the house are closed – thick and heavy, designed to keep voyeuristic eyes out. To be honest, he couldn’t have chosen a better building for a siege like this: not only will the alarm go off if the windows are touched but the burglar guards which protect them are cast iron, embedded in the walls – my house is a fortress. Impenetrable.

There’s a knock at the door. Nyathi thrusts me in front of him and rests the barrel of his automatic on my temple, holding me by the arm with his other hand. I can feel my heart thumping wildly – I almost piss in my pants again. But thankfully I hold onto my dignity – I’m about to become a celebrity and  not just in South Africa: with the media outside this thing’s probably already on the networks. Unconsciously I reach for my hair, combing it with my fingers. Nyathi chuckles behind me: “Getting ready for the cameras Gerald?” He lets go of my arm and maliciously ruffles my hair. “That’s better Malungu – now you look like a real hostage.” He laughs. I feel pathetic and foolish.
Nyathi shouts through the door: “Is that you Khumalo? Anyone else and I’ll blow this man’s head off!”
“Yes- it’s me, Nyathi. Just me and the camera, like you said.”
Nyathi pushes me forward and peers through the spy – hole. He puts his arm around my throat, realigning the barrel with my forehead then reaches forward, quickly opening the door, then stepping back.
I’m not prepared for the sensory overload.
Lights flashingbluewhitered…gunspeople…shoutingcarssprawledall over… my… lawn, TVcrewssattelitestents guns guns flashes like a strobe in my eyes then
Khumalo’s in and
we’re back.