I don’t particularly like Lady Gaga, but I have to admit, the woman is a phenomenon.
I love a few of her songs. Two or three of them are works of genius. Her voice is something special. But Adele is overrated.
My brother-in-law is having an ‘80s-themed birthday party this year, and I must admit, it’s been so much fun getting into it.
Hi. My name is Nikita and I am an Idols fan. Don’t judge me. Yes, I am.
Every South African knows when a taxi is approaching. Blaring speakers spewing nothing but ear-raping bass and vibrating windows warn us well in advance.
Some musicians are always around, yet always in the background. Some are one hit wonders. Some live in the limelight for one or two albums and then die out. And some are just eternal.
I’ve already ranted about the factors that dig the grave for access to protest music such as radio play, nightclubs and bling culture.
While walking through a store a few days ago, I heard a mother tell her child that she shouldn’t listen to the music being played on the shop’s stereo. It was Tool.
My dad once said that there is nothing inherent about age that makes one listen to classical music.
I often switch from CD to a local radio station in my car to hear something entertaining to get me through traffic. Then promptly switch it off.
My parents are to be thanked (or blamed) for m0y obsession with music.
I have been to many concerts and experienced the awesomeness of watching my favourite bands on stage. From Muse and Coldplay to Massive Attack and Skunk Anansi, every show holds some special place in my heart. But some of those memories are tainted by the one or two horrid people who just made the experience unpleasant.
I love this time of year. It’s sunny, warm and happy. People are friendlier to each other.
You hear drums. Chiming of bells. Dramatic pauses. People making funny noises. Then the music turns orchestral while a duet is sung. No, it’s not an Abba musical.
I used to love watching music awards ceremonies.
As much as the secrecy bill doesn’t really affect the entertainment industry aside from hiding how much Mbongeni Ngema may get paid for another failed Sarafina, it’s something everyone should worry about.
Ooooh. Digital music. Aaaaah. I want! I want! I want!
A lot of people use the terms ‘selling out’ and ‘going commercial’ interchangeably. They equate album sales and radio play with pandering to the mass market and deviating from original and good music for the sake of sales.
We’ve all had that conversation. You meet someone new. You start talking about stuff. The topic of music comes up. Then, suddenly; “Hell no! That band’s kak!”
Afrikaans music has gone through a bit of a whirlwind transition in the past few years. From the classic folk and annoying sokkie treffers, we now hear Afrikaans rock.
Growing up in a family of activists meant I was surrounded by great music, revolutionary and set apart from the rest. Pink Floyd, Uriah Heep, Paul Simon... all of them informed my musical upbringing.
We all know the feeling of our parents shouting at us to turn the music down, coupled with comments like; “What is that trash, anyway?”
So, we know hipsters are pretentious and often obnoxious. They aim for intellectual and cultural superiority at every turn. This includes dropping names of obscure bands you’ve probably never heard of.
My skin is brown. I have long, straight hair. I occasionally wear saris and quite enjoy Bollywood. I am of Indian descent. But does that mean I am limited to listening to Lotus FM?
Of the few musical milestones over the past few weeks, three have caught my eye. Not just because the music is what I was brought up with, or that the artists’ albums have sold in the millions, but because these musicians changed the face of music as we know it.
