Any Major Dude With Half A Heart

So South Africa has not ruined the football World Cup by presenting unfinished stadiums, or by having the German team murdered courtesy of AK-47 wielding criminals, or by placing Ingerlund fans in the middle of a bloody race war. So now the World Cup is being ruined by a plastic horn that is exciting all sorts of otherwise perfectly sane people, as well as David Letterman (who has ruined US television for a long time now).

The World Cup us being ruined at the Portugal vs North Korea game.

I must admit, I find the sound of the vuvuzela unattractive myself. But I don’t think I’m in a majority here, no matter how loud the hysterical complaints about the vuvuzela. For better or worse, the polytrumpet’s drone is the sound of this World Cup, created by people who actually spent money to be in the stadium (where, I must point out, it sounds far less monotonous than it does on TV, and sometimes even very impressive).

Far more troubling than the unpleasing sound of the vuvuzela is the ferocity with which people complain about it. I suspect that they are more vociferous than numerous. There is a Facebook group that has attracted 200,000 moaning people. That’s almost 0,25% of all Facebook users. By contrast, the British supermarket group Sainsbury (which, we’ll agree, has less global reach than Facebook) reported having sold 40,000 vuvuzelas just during the first weekend of the World Cup. Most people, I think, take the sensible view: the vuvuzela might not compete with the piccolo in calming sensitive nerves, but it creates an atmosphere. The vuvuhaters will argue that it drowns out a diversity of atmosphere as well. But we have heard England fans singing about their empire over the noise of the vuvuzela, and we even heard Chile’s not particular plentiful support make themselves heard.

Although invented in Mexico and heard in US league games before taking root in South Africa, the vuvuzela has been the sound of  SA football for the past decade or so. Why should the World Cup not sound like football does in the host country? Would Africa be right to object, over and over and over, to the singing of sometimes spicy songs by English fans — be it the imperialist claptrap of Rule Britannia, anti-IRA chants or songs about Victoria Beckham’s supposed appetite for anal sex (at this point we welcome the accident porn pilgrim from Google. Goodbye again). Should they write off the 2014 World Cup in Brazil because of the probably incessant drumming by Latin American fans? Those who wish the vuvuzela banned, or are making idiotic statements about a “ruined” World Cup, are seeking to impose their own subjective inclination on others.They display a narrow-mindedness, intolerance and arrogance which, if they were to examine themselves, would probably shock them.

To South African minds, the drone of criticism is particularly vexing. After being told for years that we can’t build stadiums on time (and still suffer idiots like the Sky journalists who thought the holes in the facade of the Soccer City Stadium had been left there in error), that crime and race-wars made the country unsafe for fans (the especially appointed fast-track World Cup courts are totally quiet, give or take the odd foreign pickpocket and handbag snatcher), that an African country simply cannot organise something as huge as a World Cup, the vuvuzela is the scoundrel’s final stick with which to beat the country.

The extent to which the criticism of the vuvuzela has been accompanied with racist comments — even as the vuvuzela has been enthusiastically embraced b y travelling fans — and the notion that again the West is trying to tell Africa how to express itself is leaving a bitter taste in the mouth. It’s one thing not to like something, quite another to go on and on about it, never mind cracking racist jokes on Facebook.

But even for the vuvuhaters, there may be a bright side. According to musicologists, one can create three notes on a vuvuzela (which does suggest a lack of musical competence on the part of those who blow it), which could give rise to a wonderful album of Coldplay covers played on the vuvuzela. And wouldn’t that improve on the originals?
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With all that out of the way, here is some more randomly-chosen South African music:

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Freshlyground – Doo Be Doo (2004).mp3
One of South Africa’s most popular bands, the multi-racial outfit Freshlyground helped write the official World Cup song, Shakira’s lamentable Waka Waka number (they appear in the video). Doo Be Doo was the band’s big hit in 2005, combining sunshiney pop with an African vibe. Far more than Shakira’s hodgepodge of a song, Doo Be Doo would accurately  reflect the vibe of the host nation (though the song that soundtracks my World Cup is Wave Your Flag by Somali-Canadian K’naan; a song short of artistic merit and huge on catchiness). I featured Freshlyground before, most recently with the remix of Castles In The Sky, the song that brought the band first to my attention in 2001.

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Allou April – A Place Called Love (2001).mp3
Watch any travel programme on Cape Town — doubtless one of the great cities in the world — and the soundtrack will play some township music that is more likely to be heard in Soweto than 1,800 km away in the Cape, even when the crew visits the nearby winelands where that music gets played only for the benefit of tourists. A far more authentic sound of Cape Town is that of jazz guitarist Allou April. Cape Town is rather different from the rest of South Africa. Half of its population are Coloureds, the product of so-called miscegenation (a horribly prejudicial term for racial mixing) over hundreds of years. There is a fascinating debate to be had about whether Coloureds form any kind of cohesive social, ethnic or cultural group at all. But there are commonly shared social, cultural, linguistic and historical markers. So if you go to a braai (barbecue) at the home of a middle-aged Coloured host of whatever background, it is not unlikely that you will hear mellow jazz just as that of Allou April’s. April featured on the SA Jazz mix with the very beautiful Bringing Joy. The singer on A Place Called Love is the late R&B songstress TK (Tsakani Mhinga) who tragically died in 2006 at the age of 27.

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John Kongos -Tokoloshe Man (1971).mp3
John Kongos – Gold (1971).mp3
Fans of Brit-pop should know at least two songs by Johannesburg-born John Kongos, at least as covered by the Happy Mondays: He’s Going To Step On You Again (retitled Step On) and Tokoloshe Man. Both are songs that T. Rex would have taken to the top of the charts. In the event, Kongos became one of relatively few South Africans to bother the British charts with those two songs, both peaking at #4 in 1971. You can get Step On You Again at the great Football & Music blog. Featured here is Tokoloshe Man — a tokoloshe is an evil spirit which is warded off by, among other things, placing your bed on bricks. The other song is a rather nice folkish track from Kongos’ self-titled 1971 album that also included the two hits. Kongos is still active. Check out his website.

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Dolly Rathebe & the African Inkspots – Unomeva (1954).mp3
In the first part of this series, I recalled the story of the vibrant Johannesburg suburb of Sophiatown, whose black residents were forcibly removed to make way for a white suburb called Triomf. Sophiatown’s nightclubs had a famous jazz scene, and Dolly Rathebe was its brightest star, especially after appearing in the 1949 film Jim Comes To Jo’burg, one of the first South African films to portray blacks positively. She was so popular that her name became a slang word for “all right” or “wonderful” . It did her popularity no harm that she was arrested with the great photographer Jürgen Schadeberg (also mentioned in part one) for contravening the Immorality Act which criminalised interracial sexual relations.

After the destruction of Sophiatown in the 1950s and the banning of the liberation movements in 1960, many artists went into exile; people like Hugh Masekela, Miriam Makeba and Jinas Gwangwa (all, like Dolly, alumni of the famous King Kong musical) and later Letta Mbulu left the country. Rathebe, however, returned to South Africa after finishing her stint with the hugely successful King Kong musical in London’s West End. With the country’s great talents in an apartheid-enforced diaspora, Rathebe’s musical career enjoyed only patches of success. Eventually she was almost as famous for her community work and political activity as she was for bring a music legend. Rathebe died in 2004 at the age of 76.

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Brenda and the Big Dudes – Weekend Special (1984).mp3
Brenda Fassie – Black President (1989).mp3
In many ways, Brenda Fassie was Rathebe’s spiritual heir: a hugely talented daughter of the townships who did not conform to expectation. Cape Town-born Fassie (named after country star Brenda Lee, another diminutive singer who lost her father early) fed off controversy and scandal, and her turbulent life provided much of both. Time magazine once called her “the Madonna of the townships”, a quite accurate (though not entirely original) description. Fassie changed her image constantly, from the bubble gum disco ingénue of Weekend Special to political spokeswoman to drug addict to convict’s wife to open lesbianism in a profoundly homophobic society to elder stateswoman  of Afro-pop to gospel singer . Fassie died in 2004 after slipping into a coma due to an apparent cocaine overdose.

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Margaret Singana – We Are Growing (1986).mp3
Like everything else in apartheid South Africa, radio was racially divided. The two big stations for white pop music were Springbok Radio and Radio 5. Apparently Margaret Singana was the first local black artist to feature on Radio 5’s charts. In the ’70s she was also a member of Ipi Tombi, another international hit for a black stage production after the international success of King Kong in the early 1960s. Singana retired from music after suffering a stroke in 1978, but came out of retirement to record the theme for the TV series Shaka Zulu, which was screened in South Africa in 1986. It was not very good and it presented the English as far less a malign influence in Zululand than they actually were (the cast for the apartheid TV-production included boycott-busters Christopher Lee, Trevor Howard, Edward Fox, Fiona Fullerton, Gordon Jackson, Roy Dotrice, Robert Powell and that horrible apartheid-apologist Kenneth Griffith). Singana’s rousing theme song is about the only redeemable feature of the whole exercise. It reached #1 in Holland, of all places.  The singer died, forgotten and in poor circumstances, in 2000 at 63.

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Springbok Nude Girls – Blue Eyes (1999).mp3
Springbok Radio broadcast the weekly chart countdown every week and, like the BBC in Britain, periodically released LPs of the great hits of the day re-recorded by studio musicians. The album covers, also like those of the BBC’s Top of the Pops albums, featured supposedly sexy women in some ways of undress. These were all the more risqué in a puritan society that banned even the depiction of nipples (these would be covered by stars) and pubic areas (covered with bars). These album covers inspired Arno Carstens and pals to name their alternative rock band Springbok Nude Girls. Hugely successful in South Africa, the group struggled to break through internationally, even when they styled themselves Nude Girls after reuniting a few years ago. The group’s lead singer Arno Carstens is a man of considerable charisma and is still tipped to become an international star (a holy grail for local celebs). Blue Eyes is a solid, slow-burner of a rock song with great vocals and impenetrable lyrics. I like SNG like that, not so much when they fused their alt.rock sound with ska.

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More South African stuff

South Africa is currently awash in flags. The country’s multi-coloured banners are flying everywhere, especially on cars. Shops are decorated with flags from the more glamorous nations taking part in the World Cup — lots of Brazil, Spain, Argentina, France, Germany, Italy, England; not so much North Korea, Honduras and Slovakia. But especially South African flags, which I expect will continue to fly even when the host team’s tournament is over, most probably after the final group game against France on Tuesday.

South Africa clearly is proud to host the World Cup, to be in the world’s eye for a month. There are those who hope – secretly or flagrantly – that SA will fuck it up, but even if there should be problems, the country has prepared well in creating a vibe. People have been wearing football jerseys to work or school on Football Fridays, the unattractive din of the vuvuzela (the plastic trumpets) has been embraced and even practised by otherwise relatively sane people (and insanely hated by many TV viewers), and people who would ordinarily hate football are liable to shout at random the name of their favourite team. South Africa – at least that part of the population that isn’t hungry and freezing in inhumane conditions – is having a massive party.

South Africans are very hospitable. Some of our criminals might get violent with the occasional tourist, but generally visitors are safer than locals; and tourists are as likely to get mugged or pickpocketed in Rio, Venice or LA as they are in Johannesburg, Cape Town or Durban. We like having guests from “exotic” places overseas (evidently not so much from other parts of Africa, as the xenophobic hate-gangs have made clear). The reason for that resides in the long international isolation under apartheid as well as the geographical distance from those countries with which South Africa would like to measure itself. The World Cup is our debutante ball. Please include us in the community of real nations.

Flag-waving über-patriotism generally tends to bother me. Flags are fun, but they can also be symbols (and weapons) of a dangerous nationalism. It is not a coincidence that the swastika was ubiquitous in Nazi Germany and that it often is the fascist, racist thug who has his flag tattooed on the neck. I find the USA’s obsession with and exaggerated reverence for the Stars and Stripes profoundly disturbing in the way it symbolises a sometimes particularly nasty national chauvinism. And yet, I welcome South Africa’s current flag-waving.

The flag is helping unite a deeply divided nation, much as the 1994 elections, the rugby World Cup wins in 1995 and 2007, and the African Cup of Nations win in 1996 did. Here, the flag is a symbol of what will be a fleeting national unity. But as a symbol of unity, however fleeting, it will serve as a permanent admonition that South Africans can be united. The World Cup may not bring South Africa all the promised material rewards (and we’ll need a collective shower to wash off the praetorian grime of our association with FIFA), and it will not solve all our problems. But as crucial contribution to the on-going project of nation-building, it will prove to be an inestimably valuable exercise.

With that out of the way, here are some more randomly selected South African songs.

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Elias & his Zig-Zag Jive Flutes – Ry Ry (1958).mp3
We previously met Elias — actually it’s Jack Lerole — in The Originals Vol. 31 as the composer and original performer of that staple of football grounds, Tom Hark. Ry Ry (which could be translated as “Go! Go!”) was the b-side of Elias & his Zig-Zag Jive Flutes’ 1958 hit, for which its writer received a pittance. Another pennywhistle number, it is spirited, if not quite as much as Tom Hark. Lerole was influential in the development of South African music, first in the kwela genre, then in mbaqanga. He abandoned the pennywhistle in the 1960s, as did the other giant of the pennywhistle, Spokes Mashiane. While Mashiane died young, Lerole was an early member of the next group.

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Mango Groove – Special Star (1989).mp3
Mango Groove – Dance Sum More (1989).mp3
Mango Groove were not the first multi-racial band in South Africa, nor the first to have hits with a fusion of white pop and African genres. Juluka (up next) and Hotline were the big pioneers in that regard. But were Juluka’s African roots were rural and traditional, Mango Groove incorporated the old urban kwela sounds of Sophiatown (discussed last week) and the townships. And the enjoyed much greater commercial success in South Africa. Jack Lerole left Mango Groove before they had their breakthrough. I think I’ve read once that it’s him growling on the infectious Dance Sum More. The superior Special Star, with Mduduzi Magwaza’s great pennywhistle solos and singer Claire Johnston’s gorgeous vocals, is dedicated to Spokes Mashiane.

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Juluka – Scatterlings Of Africa (1982).mp3
Johnny Clegg & Savuka – Asimbonanga (1987).mp3
Johnny Clegg had two groups. First there was Juluka, his band with Sipho Mchunu, whom he met in Johannesburg when they were teenagers (apparently one challenged the other to a guitar contest, and they became close friends thereafter). Clegg, who was born in Rochdale, England, founded Savuka after Mchunu decided to retire to farming in the mid-1980s. With Savuka, Clegg recorded the beautiful and haunting Asimbonanga, an anti-apartheid song for the then imprisoned Nelson Mandela, with its roll-call of assassinated political activists. Savuka also re-recorded Scatterlings Of Africa in 1987. I think I prefer that version with its more prominent flute , though the 1982 original with Juluka is equally a great. That version certainly is the South African classic.

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Henry Ate – Just (1996).mp3
One of the most popular songs I’ve posted on this blog is Pachelbel by Karma (get it HERE). I’m rather surprised about that. It’s an obscure album track by a South African band whose charismatic singer, Karma-Ann Swanepoel (not much of a rock & roll name), never made her deserved breakthrough as a solo singer. So it must be the exceptional lyrics that caused the track to be so popular. Karma was the alternative name, used for one album, of Henry Ate, a folk-rock group that was very popular in South Africa from the mid-1990s to the early 2000s, despite the horribly punning name which they took from one of their songs. The beautiful song featured here is from their 1996 debut album; like Pachelbel, it’s the closing track. Karma is now living in Florida.

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District Six – Shine A Light (1994).mp3
A song from the wildly successful District Six – The Musical. I wrote about District Six last week; the musical tells the story of how a tight-knit community was uprooted and destroyed by the racist apartheid regime. The musical gave a voice to the immense pain felt by the displaced people, much as Richard Rive’s excellent novel Buckingham Palace, District Six did. I remember vividly the tears of the Muslim man in the row in front of me when I saw the musical in 1989. Shine A Light, one of several highlights, tells of a doomed interracial relationship; other songs speak of daily life in District Six and its characters, the humiliation of living under apartheid, the helplessness of being forcibly removed, the defiant hope of return. For such sad subject matter, much of the musical is very funny. In one song, characters tell of being chased away from amenities because these are reserved for whites. Then a gangster tells about a dream he had about dying and going to hell. The devil, however, sends him back, because “this place of mine is reserved for whites”.

The musical was written by the very successful, Olivier Award-winning team of David Kramer, a white Afrikaner, and Talip Petersen, who was born in District Six and was classified Coloured (mixed race) under apartheid. Petersen was murdered at his home in December 2006. His wife Najwa was convicted of conspiracy to murder him. The title of the film District 9, with its theme of forced removals, was obviously inspired by District Six.

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Jonathan Butler – Sing Me Your Love Song (1990).mp3
For a country with such a wealth of talent, South Africa has produced relatively few international stars. One who made it was Jonathan Butler, a guitarist who is active mostly in the field of jazz-fusion but had chart success with the soul track Lies on the Jive label (founded by Durban-schooled Mutt Lange). Butler comes from Cape Town (Irish readers will be amused to learn he grew up in a suburb called Athlone), and his large, musical family has been involved in many bands on the city’s live jazz circuit. Occasionally, Butler comes home and records with old friends, as he did with the great Tony Schilder. A collaboration of them will feature later in this series. Sing Me Your Love Song was released in late 1990 on the aptly titled Heal Our Land LP; with its gentle African vibe it appealed to a country that was blinkingly emerging from apartheid.

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Rabbitt – Charlie (1975).mp3
While the rest of the world had the Bay City Rollers, South Africa had Rabbitt, whose biggest hits were Charlie and a decent cover of Jethro Tull’s Locomotive Breath. And when Leslie McKeown bailed the sinking ship BCR, the renamed Rollers replaced him with Rabbitt singer Duncan Fauré. But it would be unjust to regard Rabbitt as teenybopper merchants. They were serious musicians. After his three albums with the Rollers, Fauré, Rabbit’s main songwriter, turned to more songwriting and producing, but bandmate Trevor Rabin made the greater impact, first as a member of Yes — we may blame him for Owner Of The Lonely Heart — and then as the writer of many scores of hit movies. US sports fans will recognise his Titans Spirit from Remember the Titans.

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Yvonne Chaka Chaka – Umqobothi (1986).mp3
Arguably South Africa’s most popular female singers were Miriam Makeba and Brenda Fassie, one a dignified vocalist and the other lively pop star. Yvonne Chaka Chaka, whose real name is Yvonne Machaka, combines both qualities, and is one of South Africa’s foremost musical artists. Makeba herself described her as “my baby”. Yvonne is an astute woman: her LPs are released on her own label, she is a successful business woman, an activist in areas such as women’s and children’s rights activist and malaria, and an advocate in public administration. Reportedly she teaches adult literacy part-time. My favourite Yvonne Chaka Chaka song, Makoti, appeared on my second Africa mix. This is her massive 1986 hit which featured in the opening of the film Hotel Rwanda. Umqombothi is a home-brewed Xhosa beer, made of sorghum, corn and yeast. The official beer of the World Cup in South Africa, however, is the American pisswater Budweiser.

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More South African stuff

I realise that this is coming rather late in the month, and there has been the death of Marvin Isley in the interim. Anyway, the two big deaths in May were those of the stunning Lena Horne and heavy metal legend Ronnie James Dio. Another particularly notable death is that of country musician and songwriter Slim Bryant, who died at 101. He had one of his songs recorded by the legendary Jimmie Rodgers, who died in 1933, and played guitar on his 1932 song Mother Queen Of My Heart, and collaborated with the seminal fiddler Clayton McMichen.

Siphiwo Ntshebe, who died of tuberculosis, was a promising South African tenor, who merits inclusion by dint of having been slated to sing at the World Cup opening ceremony on June 11.

I owe the Chubby Carrier song to the marvellous Cover Me blog, which posted it on May 15, apparently unaware that Carrier had died 12 days earlier.

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Rob McConnell, 75, Canadian jazz trombonist, on May 1
Rob McConnell – My Bells (1980).mp3

Eddie Jackson, 63, founder guitarist of soul group Brenda & The Tabulations, on May 3
Brenda & The Tabulations – Dry Your Eyes (1967).mp3

Chubby Carrier, 63, American zydeco (Creole folk) musician, on May 3
Chubby Carrier – Rockin’ Robin (2001).mp3

Dave Fisher, 69, singer with folk band The Highwaymen, on May 7
The Highwaymen – Whiskey In The Jar (1962).mp3

Francisco Aguabella, 84, Cuban-born jazz percussionist, on May 7
Francisco Aguabella Orchestra – Que Mambo.mp3

Lena Horne, 92, actress and singer, on May 9
Lena Horne – Stormy Weather (1941).mp3

Ronnie James Dio, 67, heavy metal singer with Black Sabbath, Rainbow and Dio, on May 16
Ronnie James Dio – Holy Diver (1983).mp3

Hank Jones, 91, legendary jazz pianist and bandleader, on May 16
Hank Jones – I Mean You.mp3
Marilyn Monroe – Happy Birthday, Mr President.mp3
(with Jones on piano)

Larry Dale, 87, blues singer and guitarist who inspired Brian Jones, on May 19
Larry Dale – Feelin’ Alright (1955).mp3

Judy Lynn, 74, country singer and beauty queen, on May 26
Judy Lynn – Hello Mr DJ.mp3

Slim Bryant, 101, country singer-songwriter, on May 28
Jimmie Rodgers – Mother Queen Of My Heart (1932).mp3

Ali-Ollie Woodson, 58, singer with The Temptations (1984-86, and from 1988-96), on May 30
The Temptations – Treat Her Like A Lady (1984).mp3

Kevin Thomson, 56, bassist of Christian rock group Sweet Comfort Band, on May 30
Sweet Comfort Band – When I Was Alone (1977).mp3

Rubén Juárez, 62, Argentine tango singer-songwriter, on May 31
Rubén Juárez – Como dos extraños (1980).mp3

Also passing away in May:
Joëlle van Noppen, 30, singer with Dutch girl band WOW, on May 12
Beaver, 59, New Zealand jazz singer, on May 23
Paul Gray, 38, bassist of masked heavy metal group Slipknot, on May 24
Stella Nova/Steve New, 50, British guitarist and (as Steve New) member of the Rich Kids,on May 24
Siphiwo Ntshebe, 34, South African tenor, on May 25

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Previous In Memoriams

Keep up to date with dead pop stars on Facebook

Tomorrow, June 11, is the day South Africa has been looking forward to for the past six years: today the country will be the host to the world. For a month, South Africa will present itself to an international community of which the country has never really felt it was part of. Twenty years ago, SA was internationally excluded. After that, it was a “special case”, the problem child that suddenly and unexpectedly did astonishing things.

As South Africa grew up to become a spotty teenager, the disappointment that the Mandela-led miracle was not quite as amazing as everybody wanted it to be gave South Africa a reputation of being a state waiting to fail. It is easy to believe that for many people the supposed failure of the Mandela miracle serves as a welcome confirmation that even those African countries that hold the promise of great things will fuck it up.

The same kind of people are doubtless hoping that SA will host a sub-standard World Cup. For six years we’ve heard that we won’t be ready, that FIFA will take the tournament away from us, that there will be a race war, that terrorists as far away from us as Bosnia is to England are endangering players, that criminals will wait with AK-47s to shoot at German players and travelling fans. And so bloody on. I can understand why some want SA to fail; if Africa can put together something as huge as a football World Cup, against apparent expectations, then these people will have to revise their notions of South Africa and the continent itself. Worldviews and prejudices are at stake here. The sceptics will take satisfaction from every little mishap (the Daily Express will blame all of South Africa for the injuries some pissed Ingerlund fan will sustain knocking his head on a fountain), so that they can exclaim, with relief: “Told you so!”

Cape Town's purpose-built stadium, between the sea and Table Mountain.

I expect there will be some blunders; it is inevitable in an event of this scale. There may even be embarrassment at a poor opening ceremony or a stupid statement by the president. And the noisy vuvuzela — the annoying plastic trumpets — will be criticised as not sufficiently dignified for a World Cup. Except by Americans, who’ll love the cultural expressions of the locals. Some particularly ignorant idiots may even consider the vuvuzela as typifying a supposedly backwards culture. But I have full confidence that where it is important, in terms of organisation, the World Cup will be a success. The world will see South Africa in a new light.

To celebrate, this post inaugurates a weekly series of South African music (with further comments) for the duration of the World Cup. The song selection will be random, with no claims of providing any sort of comprehensive history or representativity of South African music. Check this blog for articles on current South African music.

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Sophiatown jazz. Photo by Jürgen Schadeberg

Nancy Jacobs & her Sisters – Meadowlands (1955).mp3
Meadowlands is one of the great and most frequently covered South African standards. This is the 1955 original version by Nancy Jacobs and her backing group who in fact were her mother and cousin. Jacobs was too shy to become a really big star, the way her contemporaries such as Dolly Rathebe or Miriam Makeba did. Instead of pursuing a career on stage, Jacobs soon married and retired from the music scene. The song Meadowlands might sound joyful, but it is in fact very sad: Meadowlands is the name of the settlement in the conglomeration of Johannesburg townships known since 1963 as Soweto (an abbreviation of South-Western Townships) to which the residents of the vibrant Sophiatown were forcibly moved as of 1955. In a further insult, Sophiatown’s now white area was renamed Triomf, which in English means exactly what you guessed it does. The above picture was taken by the great Drum photographer Jürgen Schadeberg (lots more photos on his excellent website)

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Mandoza – Nkalakatha (2000).mp3
I’ve posted this kwaito anthem by the genre’s biggest star before. It’s a fantastic hype-up song, one for getting ready before a party or for an iron-pumping work out. Born in Soweto as Mduduzi Tshabalala, Mandoza as a teenager spent time in jail — the ironically named Sun City — for car theft (the makers of a particular video game might want to include Mandoza on their famous radio playlists). He now tries to infuse his music with constructive messages aimed at a lost generation, but denies that he is a role model (which is a good thing, given some of his behaviour, including a 2008 conviction for culpable homicide involving a car crash). “Nkalakatha” is township slang for a man who has it all, not necessarily obtained by exclusively ethical means.

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TKZee & Benni McCarthy – Shibobo (1998).mp3
TKZee were about as big as Mandoza, and trailblazed the kwaito genre. Football fans will recognise their co-star. Benni McCarthy (second from left on the cover) is one of South Africa’s most successful football players ever — the only one with a Champions’ League or European Cup medal to his name. McCarthy was the great hope of South African football, but his strained relationship with the local football association meant that his appearances for the national team, known as Bafana Bafana (“the Boys”), were erratic, marked by serial “retirements”. For that the functionaries and McCarthy share the blame. The Cape Town-born player has been excluded from this year’s World Cup squad, reportedly for disciplinary reasons. The song was released to coincide with the 1998 World Cup, the first in which South Africa took part. “Shibobo” means to dribble or play the ball through an opponent’s legs.

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Monty Webber and Friends – Love Song (1976).mp3
Earlier I mentioned the forced removals from Sophiatown in 1955. Eleven years later PW Botha, then the apartheid minister responsible for oppressing Coloureds (that is, the mixed race Afrikaans and English-speaking majority of Cape Town) declared the multi-racial slum District Six, on the outskirts of central Cape Town, reserved for whites. Over the next decade, families were moved to new ghettos far away from the city. These had few recreational facilities and no entrenched community to replace the close-knit one of District Six. The violent gang culture of the Cape Flats can be attributed in great part to the brutal destruction of a community. Almost three decades since the last streets and houses (other than a few churches and mosques) were razed, much of what once was District Six remains an uninhabited wasteland. I pass it on my way to work every day.

This song comes from a very rare jazz-fusion concept album titled Remember District Six, which I found through my good friends at the afrotastic Electric Jive blog. For the fans of Cape jazz, the line-up is star-studded, all at one time collaborators with Abdullah Ibrahim/Dollar Brand. Apart from the great drummer Monty Webber (now sadly without legs), it also includes the late Basil “Mannenberg” Coetzee (whose saxophone made Dollar Brand’s incorrectly spelt classic Mannenberg such a jazz classic), guitarist Errol Dyers, keyboardist Sammy Hartman, bassist Lionel Beukes and somebody credited as Monwabisi, whom I guess to be the late Winston Mankunku Ngozi. I don’t know who did the vocals on this lovely song.

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Vicky Sampson – African Dream (1995).mp3
This is one of those songs that get wheeled out whenever a dash of African pride is needed. I am sick of the song due to overexposure and its mongering in cliché, but there is something quite appealing to it. It was written by Alan Lazar of the group Mango Groove, who will still feature in this series, and became massive when South Africa hosted (and won) the continental football tournament, the African Cup of Nations, in 1996. Vicky Sampson, born in Cape Town, was once voted South Africa’s most beautiful woman. Her promotional blurb claims that she has performed with a roll call of music notables including Al Jarreau, Tina Turner, Joe Cocker, Grace Jones and Randy Crawford. The same blurb of ill-considered hyperbole likely written by an over-animated intern gushes, with just a touch too much gush: “Her latest release is ‘nothing short of world-class’. License To Sing [seriously?], is an adult contemporary masterpiece that provides a platform for Vicky’s quite astonishing voice, which must surely now be considered the best to ever grace the South African music industry.” But don’t blame poor Vicky for her PR team’s total absence of perspective.

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The Parlotones – Beautiful (2005).mp3
Apparently The Parlotones are being heavily promoted in Britain, and I think they have a decent shot at stardom. I suppose they will appeal most to the people who liked David Gray (note to Parlotones’ manager: get them on Irish TV) or, heaven forbid, the horrible Dave Matthews Band. Dave Matthews himself is a South African, of course. Though, unlike Charlize Theron, he does not seem to mention it much. And unlike Charlize Theron, we aren’t particularly proud of him. Anyway, the Parlotones’ sound is as good as that of any comparable international act, though I’m not a big fan of singer Kahn Morbee’s voice. They’ve been big in South Africa for a long time, and the catchy Beautiful has been something of a signature tune for them. Personally, I prefer Staring At The Sun, which was not a hit, but is available legally for download (direct DL link)

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Nelson Mandela and Francois Pienaar contemplate whether Wesley Snipes and Kevin Costner shall play them in the invictusable film of SA's 1995 World Cup win.

Ladysmith Black Mambazo – Shosholoza (1995).mp3
A post on SA music must include one of the country’s most famous exports singing the country’s most popular song, the Ndebele workers’ anthem Shosholoza. Don’t expect this to be huge in the townships, though. Ladysmith Black Mambazo (named after the town they are from; there have been loads of groups calling themselves Black Mambazo over the years) are very much a crossover act, and Shosholoza is the one African song that whites are most likely to know how to sing, perhaps better than the national anthem. In 1995 it became the unofficial anthem of the rugby World Cup, which SA hosted and won — the great Invictus story. The rousing song does sound magnificent when sung in a full stadium. Perhaps somebody will strike it up during World Cup; if so, it will probably a white guy. This version here is not very good, I’m afraid. But as I said, it must be posted for purposes of symbolism.

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Anneline Kriel – He Took Off My Romeos (1981).mp3
This might be a collectors’ item. Those in search for songs by former Miss Worlds will want this. And collectors of potential worst records ever will welcome the inclusion of this into their anthologies. Anneline Kriel was Miss World in 1974 — before even that horrible contest joined the international boycott of apartheid South Africa — after the British winner Helen Morgan resigned her crown for not being a virgin. Kriel subsequently became the wife of the diminutive South African hotel magnate Sol Kerzner, who built Sun City and more recently the obscenely extravagant Atlantis on the Palm in Dubai. Kriel then converted to Judaism for her new Jewish husband, and after divorcing him married a fellow called…Bacon. Apparently Kriel’s excursion into the world of pop in 1981 was not the result of a lost drunken bet. Whatever prompted a succession of people to decide that making this record was a good idea, sanity was not among them. Kriel couldn’t hold a tune if it was bolted to her vocal chords and the backing track must have been programmed by a tone deaf chimpanzee let loose on a bargain-basement synthesizer.

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More South African stuff

We continue on our five-yearly cycle of intros quizzes, going on to 1985, with 20 intros to hit songs from 1985,  of 5-7 seconds in length. All were released as singles or had their chart peak that year. There admittedly is a bit of a UK bias here: US readers should not despair at not getting the first track (though it was posted on this blog before). Number 9 was a hit in the UK only early 1986, but in the US in late 1985.

The answers will be posted in the comments section by Thursday — please don’t post your answeers in the comments section, in case it inadvertently spoils the fun for somebody else. And if the pesky number 10 bugs you, e-mail me at halfhearteddude [at) gmail [dot] com for the answers, or  better, message me on Facebook. If you’re not my FB friend, click here.

Intros Quiz – 1985 edition

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More Intros Quizzes

1977, the year I turned 11, was a pivotal year in my life, perhaps more than any other. My family was torn apart by my father’s sudden death, I discovered love and became a serious fan of pop music. We’ll deal with the first two in part 1. As always, I must stress that all songs are included here because they have the power to beam me back to the time under discussion. Some I like, and some I most certainly do not endorse. Don’t despair, things will get better as I get older…
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Electric Light Orchestra – Livin’ Thing.mp3
Until this point, the Electric Light Orchestra had passed me by, and they would again do so until 1979/80, when I really liked their hits Don’t Bring Me Down, Confusion and Shine A Light from the Discovery album. There were other songs in between, and every friend’s long-haired, bumfluff-moustached older brother had a few ELO albums, alongside the ubiquitous Heart LP (the one with Barracuda, which to this day remains Annoying Older Brother music to me). But I didn’t dig ELO. Except Livin’ Thing. Perhaps not coincidentally, it sounds much like the Discovery era ELO. The production is brilliant, of course (the strings especially), but it’s the chorus that must have grabbed me then. For all values that I have come to appreciate about ELO since then, I don’t think they were that great with choruses.

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Bay City Rollers – Yesterday’s Hero.mp3
In West Germany, the little girls maintained a rivalry between the Bay City Rollers and Sweet. If churning out the better hits in 1977 is the yardstick by which we shall measure victory, BCR won, even as the song’s title was becoming increasingly apt. Yesterday’s Hero is a bit of a stomper in the Saturday Night vein. Written by Harry Vanda and George Young, it was originally recorded in 1975 by John Paul Young, who’d score a couple of worldwide hits in 1977/78 with Love Is In The Air and Standing In The Rain (an Italian cardinal was such a great fan, he adopted the singer’s name upon becoming pope in August 1978). George Young, incidentally is AC/DC’s Angus and Malcolm Young’s older brother. With Vanda, George had been a member of the Easybeats. They then recorded as Flash and the Pan. They also produced AC/DC’s Powerage and High Voltage albums.

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Bonnie Tyler – Lost In France.mp3
If any record my mother bought was going to excite me, then it had to be one that included the timeless lyrics: “Hoolay-hoolay hoolay-hoolay-dance”. It might have supposed to sound like ooh-la-la ooh-la-la dance, but Mrs Tyler (no doubt she was married, because she looked like a Hausfrau) gave the French phrase her own Welsh twist. Lost In France, which sounds like a Smokie song, was recorded before Tyler had an operation on her vocal chords, which gave her already smoky voice that distinctive rasp. Within a year Tyler had an even bigger hit, with It’s a Heartache, and in 1983 with the magnificent Jim Steinman production Total Eclipse Of The Heart.

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Frank Zander – Oh Susie (Der zensierte Song).mp3
While my interest in German Schlager had diminished by 1977, I couldn’t escape the likes of Peter Alexander, Roberto Blanco, Costa Cordalis and Howard Carpendale on the radio or TV. Compared to those ingratiating chumps, Frank Zander was fairly cool. With his almost tuneless voice and faintly amusing lyrics (well, up to a point), he certainly stood apart from the chumps. He had first come to general notice in 1975 with Ich trink auf dein Wohl Marie, the supposed humour of which resided in his supposed drunkenness (hell, at nine years of age, I was amused). Two years later, he had moved from the adult Marie to jalbait Susie, of the “uncensored song” which through the medium of country-pop operates on the fun to be had with bleeped out double entendres. Oh, how we almost laughed. An “uncensored version” was also released, with Zander voicing over the supposed words that were bleeped out, but those were not really objectionable either; a comedic double bluff, in other words. Zander later became a full-time practitioner of the novelty song, doing unhilarious spoof covers of Trio’s Da Da Da and, under the pseudonym Fred Sonnenschein released particularly inane Scheiße.

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Lynsey De Paul & Mike Moran – Rock Bottom.mp3
Ah, the days when Britain still had a shot at winning the Eurovision Song Contest; before bitter regional enemies in the Balkans would divvy up the highest numbers of points between one another (except this year, when Germany won). Rock Bottom was the runner-up in the 1977 contest. France won that year, with Marie Myriam’s L’oiseau et l’enfant, a song I would not even pretend to recognise if it stuck its tongue down my throat while humming itself. And while Croatia is happy to give Serbia 12 points, Ireland gave Rock Bottom nil points. Austria’s entry, Eurovision cliché watchers will be pleased to know, was titled Boom Boom Boomerang. Mike Moran went on to produce David Bowie and write the theme for crime TV series Taggard. De Paul had already enjoyed a career as a singer and songwriter (including Barry Blue’s hit Dancin’ On a Saturday Night). At around the time that Moran co-wrote Kenny Everett’s not entirely welcome Snot Rap, De Paul was singing songs for the Conservative Party.

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Space – Magic Fly.mp3
This was a bit of an instrumental novelty hit in the way that there always was at least one every year in the German charts. Unlike some of the others, however, Magic Fly is rather good. Space were a pretty cool French disco act whose music might well be sought out by aficionados of the genre. I had the single of this. It got stolen at the last church youth camp I bothered attending, in 1979. The youth leaders didn’t even bother to investigate the theft of my records (the violation of the commandments about theft and coveting thy neighbour’s goods notwithstanding). That annoyed me, because in 1976 they had a whole scene from The Shield going when some hapless goon stole a popular guy’s pocketknife. Nobody asked what the cool guy was doing with a knife in a church camp in the first place. But to the religious church camp regime, rightful ownership of weapon clearly was more important than pop music. So, you know, fuck them.

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Oliver Onions – Orzowei.mp3
I actually didn’t like this song that much; my younger brother was a great fan of it (and, yeah, the chorus is quite catchy, in the way choruses with the phrase “nananana-nananana-nananana-na-na” often are). Little bro’ was also a great Bud Spencer and Terence Hill fan, so he had an Italian obsession already which would only later incorporate the finer aspects of that country’s rich cultural heritage. Oliver Onions (named after the British writer) were Italian film writers Guido & Maurizio De Angelis, who wrote for Bud Spencer & Terence Hill movies. Orzowei was the theme song for what I think was an Italian mini-series titled in Germany Weißer Sohn des kleinen Königs, a story about a white boy brought up in an African tribe. It was a German #1 in late May and early June, which was, as we will see in the next entry, a rather significant point in my young life.

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Julie Covington – Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.mp3
In early June, my mother bought the single of this. One night she played it for my father, a theatre and opera buff who probably would have liked any of the crap inflicted upon us by that revolting grease-head Andrew Lloyd-Webber. And, indeed, Mom and Dad, sitting together on the green suede lounge suite, really enjoyed that song together. A couple of nights later (the anniversary of which is on Saturday), a shrill scream echoed through our house, alerting me to the notion I was now fatherless. My father had collapsed with a heart attack at work; we had been notified that he had been taken to hospital, but didn’t know that he made his final, apparently artificial breath in the ambulance.

In the subsequent weeks, my mother was totally obsessed by Don’t Cry For Me Argentina, playing it over and over and over, her loud sobs disregarding Evita’s injunction not to shed tears for her or, by extension, my father. I cannot have an objective opinion of that song’s merits. I love that song because it evokes such intense emotions. And I hate it for the same reason. Catch me on the right day, and you’ll find that the strings that open Don’t Cry For Me Argentina can still produce a lump in my throat, a knot in my stomach, or a tear in my eye.

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Smokie – It’s Your Life.mp3
Readers who are familiar with the oeuvre of Smokie will rightly question my good judgment in including this song, and, if there had to be Smokie, not one their bigger hits of 1977, Living Next Door To Alice (and you may very well ask politely who is Alice) or Lay Back In The Arms Of Someone, both far less rubbish tunes than this. But the point of the series is to include songs that have the power to transport me back to a particular time. It’s Your Life, a tempo-changing mish-mash of cod-reggae, bubblegum pop and Beatles-homage, does just that. It evokes the summer of 1977. When it comes to the bridge, and the backing singers start singing: “How does it feel…” I am inclined to continue “…one of the beautiful people”. The fleeting similarity to the Beatles’ Baby You’re A Rich Man is not subtle. And the chorus borrows more than a bit from George Harrison’s My Sweet Lord (or, indeed, The Chiffons’ He’s So Fine).

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Rod Stewart – Sailing.mp3
Yes, I know, it was a hit in 1975. Yet it belongs here. In August 1977, my brothers and I went on a church camp. The regular reader may recall from the 1976 installment that the previous year’s camp (the one with the pocketknife incident) had been intolerable due to my older brother’s Gauleiter complex, bullying me mercilessly. This year, he was totally cool. The whole group of about 40 kids from 9-15 was great and grew close over two weeks. It was one of the best fortnights of my life. And I fell in love with the lovely Antje, with her dark hair and little freckles on her nose. Of course I was too shy to do much about it, other than carving her name on my bed’s headboard (and anywhere else I found suitable). A night or two before our departure — the day we received news of Elvis’ death — we had a disco evening. I was intent on asking Antje for a slow dance, and practised with one of the youth leaders, the generously bosomed Doris, to Ralph McTell’s Streets Of London. The next ballad would be my cue.

After loads of Sweet and T Rex songs, played by my DJing older brother, the opening notes of Rod Stewart’s Sailing sounded. Being totally sexy in my tight white jeans and navy T-shirt, I got up and made a beeline across the dancefloor for the lovely Antje. Halfway down, approaching from the right flank, came a chap called Roland. I had not known that he too had taken a fancy to the lovely Antje. For all I knew, he might have had his sights on any number of girls cliqued together in the lovely Antje’s vicinity. Still, somehow I sensed his intended target right at that moment.

It was like High Noon; tumbleweed blowing as nervous eyes darted here and there. Little me and big Roland, both after the same girl, with the entire crowd watching from the sidelines. Our paths met. Instinctively, I shoulder-charged my rival out of the way. As he tumbled away I reached the lovely Antje, stood in front of her and boldly asked her to dance to Rod Stewart’s Sailing. She looked inquiringly at her best friend, who nodded her consent. So Antje and I had our awkward first — and, alas, last — dance, with all my pals giving me the thumbs up, and Roland plotting a revenge which never came. After the camp, I never saw Antje again. But not a year goes by when I don’t think of her, of the feeling of my hands on the back of her slightly clammy T-shirt and her soft breath brushing against my neck.

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So when I think of 1977, the shock and grief caused by my father’s death comes to mind, but also the intensity of my puppy love and the comfort of my holiday with a great group of people. The year had awoken in me an intense consciousness of life, and I would soon direct that intensity towards the fanatical acquisition of music.

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More Stepping Back

It has been a while since I inaugurated this series of songs about murder. In the three songs for the second instalment, we observe a musician killing in self-defence, a crime of passion, and a family making excuses for their very fucked-up son.

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Bill Brandon – Rainbow Road (1969).mp3
This deep soul track by the little known Bill Brandon used to be very rare. Thanks to the Internet, it is now accessible to a wider audience. And what an absolutely breathtaking record it is. The song apparently was written for Arthur Alexander, who has previously featured on this blog, but Alexander recorded it only in 1973. In the song, a down-on-his-luck singer is discovered and takes the fork in the road marked success, the Rainbow Road of the title. The mentor pays of his debt, clothes our friend in finery. “And then one night a man with a knife forced me to take his life,” Bill tells us. As bad luck would have it, he finds himself before an unsympathetic judge who clearly does not buy the self-defence line. So instead of his signature shining in bright lights, he is wearing a number instead of a name. But “I still dream about Rainbow Road”.

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Conway Twitty – Ain’t It Sad To Stand and Watch Love Die (1968).mp3
The killing of passion was a staple in 1960s country. Porter Wagoner based a whole, excellent album on it. One can understand what drive the narrator to murder: not only was his woman cheating on him, but he caught her in the act with his best friend. So it’s not only a sense of jealousy and possessiveness the triggers the killing, but the anger of a double betrayal. There isn’t much confrontation: the narrator shoots them “were they lied”. He records his unfaithful wife’s last words, which evidently do not elicit mercy from our friend, because having watched love die, he is not open to negotiation.  The neighbours are coming over, posing the reasonable question: “Oh my God, what have you done?” His response is unnerving; putting the gun to his head, the narrator asks repeatedly: “Neighbour, ain’t it sad to stand and watch love die?”

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Warren Zevon – Excitable Boy (1978).mp3
The great Zevon imparts a valuable lesson: if your son mistakes Sunday lunch for an occasion to rub pot roast all over his chest, don’t laugh it off. And when he bites the usherette on the leg, don’t put it down to the high japery. Because next, he’ll take little Suzie to the junior prom, then rape and killed her, and take her home. And his idiot family still thinks it’s because he’s just being “excitable”. After ten years he is released from custody at an appropriate facility, and promptly goes to Suzie’s grave, digs her up and take her bones home. And guess what the family is saying?

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More Murder Songs