Sunday, 17 January 2016

The Beaten Generation

Viva Umkhonto!

During the course of 2015 I recommissioned my 21st birthday present from my father – a Micro Seiki MB-14ST that I brought over to the UK from my mom’s place in South Africa. I’ve also been slowly bringing over my collection of vinyl albums, meticulously selected and acquired, and lovingly cared for between the early-70’s and the late-80’s. They’ve also been stashed away at my mom’s place, protected from the elements in plastic sleeves and stored in bespoke cases holding about 50 albums apiece. Over the course of the past few months I’ve been playing some of the gems in my collection, and it’s been very rewarding to reconnect with my past. Both the good and the “interesting”.

Viva Umkhonto!

On one of our trips to Europe in the late-80’s my future wife and I made our regular pilgrimage to the music stores, including WOM (World of Music) in Germany. It was here (in which city, I don’t recall) that I bought the LP "Viva Umkhonto!" a compilation of punk and hardcore music that featured previously unreleased material by European and US bands. The record was released in April 1987 as a collaborative effort by two independent labels, namely Mordam Records (USA) and De Konkurrent (Holland), both of whom were strong backers of the struggle against Apartheid. According to a statement on the back of the sleeve, “All money raised by this record goes to Umkhonto We Sizwe. So this was a benefit album for the military wing of the ANC (African National Congress).

For context, allow me to turn to Wikipedia:

Umkhonto We Sizwe (abbreviated as MK, Zulu for "Spear of the Nation") was the armed wing of the African National Congress (ANC), co-founded by Nelson Mandela in the wake of the Sharpeville massacre. Its founding represented the conviction in the face of the massacre that the ANC could no longer limit itself to nonviolent protest; its mission was to fight against the South African government. After warning the South African government in June 1961 of its intent to resist further acts of terror if the government did not take steps toward constitutional reform and increase political rights, MK launched its first attacks against government installations on 16 December 1961. It was subsequently classified as a terrorist organisation by the South African government and the United States, and banned”.

Viva Umkhonto!

The album itself was definitely banned in South Africa and so possessing it was illegal. I took it into the country through Jan Smuts Airport (subsequently known as “Johannesburg International” and now, “O.R. Tambo International”) on my return from my trip to Europe and kept it safely tucked away in the belly of the beast in South Africa's capital city, Pretoria.

Viva Umkhonto!

In June 1986, on the tenth anniversary of the Soweto uprising, the Nationalist regime declared State of Emergency. It forbade any action that could undermine the Apartheid state, nationwide. Also forbidden were any kind of “subversive statements”, defined as statements that promoted unlawful strikes, boycotts or civil disobedience, attacked military conscription, promoted disinvestment or sanctions, or that “aggravated feelings of racial hostility”. The penalty for engaging in these actions was a maximum of ten years imprisonment. Ouch - I definitely did not want to be caught with this album!

Of the people detained under these draconian regulations (circa-8,000 in the first couple of months) no names were published with the exception of those released at the discretion of the South African Police. Throughout the State of Emergency, newspapers had to engage in self-censorship, at the risk of being closed down by the government, and many used to print disclaimers alongside their articles that read” “This report has been restricted to comply with the Emergency Regulations”.

1983-1985 End Conscription Campaign - SABC News Is Biased

Some newspapers and magazines were not able to appear, and no news came out of the black townships, except through the state’s Bureau of Information. At the time I stuck stickers on the front of my television screen and computer monitor that read “SABC News is Biased” just to remind myself to be vigilant about government disinformation.

Viva Umkhonto!

The music on the compilation album is okay, but it’s the packaging and presentation that I really enjoyed as a snapshot of the times, and as an interesting piece of social history. Along with the record were included a poster and a booklet filled with newspaper clippings and ANC propaganda about the armed struggle against Apartheid.

It also highlights companies that were breaking economic sanctions by continuing to do business with South Africa. The “Throw Well – Throw Shell” slogan is parody of oil the giant’s official marketing tag-line at the time, namely Go Well – Go Shell. I have uploaded a scan of this booklet to my DropBox.

Throw Well Throw Shell

I’m not going to comment on the accuracy or veracity of the information in the booklet, but in those turbulent times – under a state of emergency, with broad media censorship and where owning certain music could earn you a jail sentence – it was thrilling to see what people abroad were thinking and to read material that was not towing the official National Party line.

Viva Umkhonto!

With the benefit of hindsight, it’s fascinating to see how right Matt Johnson was back in 1989 (The TheMind Bomb). Although he wasn’t talking about South Africa, per se, when he sang that we were the “beaten generation, reared on a diet of prejudice and misinformation”, he pretty much hit the nail on the head. Prejudice and misinformation were weapons in the arsenal on both sides of the struggle in South Africa. I was one of the few pale South Africans to have the privilege of being exposed to both sides of that deformed coin.

When you cast your eyes upon the skylines
Of this once proud nation
Can you sense the fear and the hatred
Growing in the hearts of its population
And our youth, oh youth, are being seduced
By the greedy hands of politics and half truths

The beaten generation, the beaten generation
Reared on a diet of prejudice and mis-information
The beaten generation, the beaten generation
Open your eyes, open your imagination

We're being sedated by the gasoline fumes
And hypnotized by the satellites
Into believing what is good and what is right
You may be worshiping the temples of mammon
Or lost in the prisons of religion
But can you still walk back to happiness
When you've nowhere left to run?

The beaten generation, the beaten generation
Reared on a diet of prejudice and mis-information
The beaten generation, the beaten generation
Open your eyes, open your imagination

And if they send in the special police
To deliver us from liberty and keep us from peace
Then won't the words sit ill upon their tongues
When they tell us justice is being done
And that freedom lives in the barrels of a warm gun

The beaten generation, the beaten generation
Reared on a diet of prejudice and mis-information
The beaten generation, the beaten generation
Open your eyes, open your imagination

Viva Umkhonto!

If you'd like to take a listen to "Viva Umkhonto!" I've found a ripped copy of the LP available for download here.

Cheers, MAlfaRK ©

Viva Umkhonto!

Tuesday, 12 January 2016

My Death


1974. I'd spent summer in Europe with my parents. My first trip out of Africa. I already owned David Bowie's "Pin Ups" and a SA-only double album release called "Superstar" when I saw the posters for "Diamond Dogs" all over London. It had just been released a month earlier. When we got back to Pretoria I bought the record. My first concept album and one that had me glued to my father's new B&O hi-fi for more hours than I went to school, with Beyer Dynamic headphones keeping me coddled, safe in my own little, private world. Another world, light-years from Apartheid South Africa. "Makes you feel important and free."

I poured over the gatefold sleeve, soaked up every word, every note, every Orwellian innuendo, wallowing in the Moog, Mellotron, guitars and saxophones. Rebel Rebel in my own bedtime. Like many of his other works, "Diamond Dogs" became indelibly burned into my subconscious, and was also the album that marked the deepening of my voice and the transition to clumsy, shy, introverted adolescence. The journey to manhood would not be a smooth one. But I was in good hands. Bowie struck a chord with the freaks, the outsiders and the alienated. In 1974 he symbolized impossible glamour and an aspiration for the future. He made socially uncomfortable people like me feel cool. Bowie became mine. "Halloween Jack is a real cool cat."

Listening to "Diamond Dogs" this evening with adult ears I'm reminded what a dark piece of work it really is. It certainly isn’t an entry point for Bowie, but an album you love only after you’ve already begun an affair with his music. My music.

So (and at the risk of sounding trite) I lost a piece of myself today. But, hell, I travelled with David Bowie for over four decades and had the privilege of seeing him in concert on four occasions. Over the years his lyrics have become my vocabulary and his songs, milestones in my life. So although the great man may have shuffled off his mortal coil, he will live on in me, forever. He's a part of me. He is me. And I'm grateful.

Diamond Dogs

In mourning, MAlfaRK ©

Monday, 11 January 2016

News Guy Wept & Told Us...


06h30 this morning. I was awake. Strange, as I'd only got to bed four hours earlier.

But it was then that the musical soundtrack of the first 55 years of my life came to an end. David Bowie died in New York after an 18 month fight with cancer. A redwood falls. I bought my first Bowie album in 1973 and my last one three days ago. A lifetime, but I never thought of Bowie as being old. He remained current up to the moment of his death.

Although his lasting legacy is to embrace innovation and be yourself, I must admit to copying his hairstyle back in 1972, just to piss off my parents. I still wear a version of that cut today. For four decades I've had a strange little ritual, that involves Bowie. Whenever I buy any new music technology - cassette player, turntable, Walkman, CD player, MP3 player - the fist track that I play is by Bowie. I will continue this personal homage for the rest of my life.

Thank you David Bowie for helping me though all the toughest times of my life, for celebrating all the good times and for always being there for the times in between. You'll never know it, but one dark night you actually saved my life. The world is going to be a more mundane place without you and has lost its creative rudder.

Everything is disjointed. Equilibrium is gone.

Goodbye David, and our youth.

Blackstar

In mourning, MAlfaRK ©

Thursday, 30 July 2015

Nationalist Notes


Earlier today I found these two bank notes from the old country snuggled in the back of a dusty book. These were in general circulation between 1978 and 1990, and so would have seen me through the end of high school, my two years national service, my three degrees and my initial move to the UK. Fascinating times.

Nationalist Note

The note is supposed to depict Johan Anthoniszoon "Jan" van Riebeeck, but some National Party bureaucrat screwed up and the portrait on the old bank notes is of Bartholomeus Vermuyden, as painted by Dirck Craey (1650) and currently hanging in the Rijksmuseum. The actual van Riebeeck was far less glamorous as this portrait of him in the Rijksmuseum reveals. Researcher Jonkheer F.G.L.O van Kretschmar has also determined that the popular portrait of van Riebeeck's wife, Maria, was more likely that of Catharina Kettingh, wife of Bartholomeus Vermuyden. The real Maria van Riebeeck (nee de la Queillerie) was as frumpish as her husband - this is the portrait of her in the Rijksmuseum. Worse still, by all accounts the statue in Adderley Street, Cape Town, is not a likeness of Maria either, but of the "wife of the chairman of the Dutch committee that helped to organise the 1952 Van Riebeeck festival in Cape Town." (Giliomee and Mbenga, 2007, "New History of South Africa"). Incredible - you couldn't believe a goddamn thing under the old apartheid regime.

Interesting read here.

Additional images:

Cheers, MAlfaRK ©

Sunday, 26 July 2015

Collective Drinks


* Originally published on Wednesday, June 14, 2000 *

Etienne said "I can sense another collective document coming on" and he was right! The following collective nouns were contributed by Massyn, Reeler, Posthumus and Pautz...and possibly some other drunken bums!

A gaggle of G&T's
A swarm of Screwdrivers
A herd of Rum & Cokes
A club of scotch & sodas
'n Kakhuis vol Klipdrift
A hurling of Heineken
A barfing of Becherovkas
An amnesia of Absinths
A blerts of Black Labels
A clutch of cocktails
A murder of Bloody Marys
A heartburn of Castles
A vomit of Vodkas
A tizzy of Tequilas
A shipwreck of Brandy on the rocks
A drowning of Dop-n-dam
A dronk of Old Browns
A suip of Sherry
A walg of Witblits
A verve of Vermouths
A jigger of Jack Daniels
A spit of Spiders
A bloody klap of Blue Caracou
A burp of Beers
A foray of XXXX's
A headache of Wallbangers
A froth of Fosters
A chunder of Chianti
A puke of Pimms
A hangover of Harvey Wallbangers
An armful of Amarula's
A trommel vol Tassies
A mumble of Merlots
A chunder of Chardonnays
A catatonia of Clarets
A suip of Sauvignons
A choke of Champagne
A crass of Caine
A yee-haa of Jägermeisters
A spew of Ciders
A piss-up of Piscos
An "IpromisenottotalksomuchREALLY" of Red Bulls
An upchuck of Ouzos

Cheers, MAlfaRK ©

Die Sand Paradoks


By Gerhard Elmar Schröder
Originally posted on Sunday, June 9, 2002


Die droë besembos jaag die miskruier oor die sand.
Hy stop...hy huiwer...hy sit stil…en slaan aan die brand!

Die wolke steek op! Dis dan 'n woestyn!
Die reëndruppels plof neer op die sand...word 'n rivier, word modder, word 'n fontein.

Die water was my binneste. Die water maak my koud.
Die weerlig helder my nag op, maar maak my benoud.

Die sand is mooi. Die sand is warm.
Die akkedis geniet dit, maar die sand bly arm.

Jou oë is swart. Jou trane is nat.
Jou trane word 'n stroom...ek wil dit vir my vat.

Jy streel die kind se hare. Die kind lag en speel met die sand.
Die kind vat die modder en bou iets...aan sy mooi kant.

Die saadjies in die sand skiet grasgroen blare.
Opgewondenheid en jubeling bruis deur die groen are.

Jy is 'n skim in hierdie woestyn. My kind sien jou, vat aan jou skouer, Jy is weg.
My droom...jy en die woestyn word nou my kneg…

Die son is terug en brand hard neer.
Die blare krul om. Die kind se voete brand...seer.


Cheers, MAlfaRK on behalf of Gerhard Elmar Schröder ©

Friday, 24 July 2015

Mescaleros


* Originally published on Saturday, January 19, 2002 *

July 1979 – July 1981. Two years of hell in the South African Infantry, thanks to PW Botha. National Service they called it....hmmm....I spent my time trying to undermine the system, spending about a year in the Namibian "operational area". My diaries from that era are not easy reading, but provide an insight into how I coped. If you think that at that time I was reading books like the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, "Contact", "Space", "Wuthering Heights" and "The 1001 Nights of Jean Macaque", it's obvious how desperately I was trying to escape.

What I do know is that music was a big part of my coping mechanism. It helped me to escape the reality of where I was and what was going on around me. In those days before the Walkman, I had to beg and borrow portable tape recorders from my more affluent fellow-conscripts, and slink off into dark corners to listen to stuff on my own. No one appreciated my taste in music. After all, I was just a "Fokken Kommunis" and a "Kafferboetie" who listened to "Kaffermusiek".

Some of those memorable artists and groups were Frank Zappa, David Bowie, Marley and Tosh, The Selecter, The Specials, The Jam, Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson, Madness, Blondie, The Sex Pistols, Ian Dury & The Blockheads, The Pretenders and two new bands called Echo & the Bunnymen and U2. One of them that really stood out there was The Clash. Waaaahh! I was absolutely absorbed in their mélange of reggae, rockabilly punk, funk, and even disco. During my last stint on the "Grens" I became one with what I believe was their masterpiece – "Sandiniasta!".

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I now own 4 copies of "Sandiniasta!" – two on CD and two on vinyl (one of the latter never opened as I wanted to preserve it in pristine condition). For 36 tracks on 3 LP’s the band tackled everything in sight, including waltz, gospel, disco, children's ditties, pop, funk, reggae, dub, punk, delicate instrumentals, psychedelic explorations and rock. It blew me away and the lyrics...!! The lyrics!!! The lyrics!!!!

Is the music of grove skin rock
Soaked in the diesel of war boys war?
Blood, black gold and the face of a judge
Is the music calling for a river of blood?

Beat the drums tonight, Alphonso
Spread the news all over the grove
The big meeting has decided
That total war must burn on the grove

Does it mean I should take my machete
To chop my way through the path of life?
Does it mean I should run with the dog pack
Is that the way to be the one to survive?

(extract from "Corner Soul", Sandinista)

The "Sandiniasta!" track "The Call Up" (played in a funeral dirge) really struck a chord up at Mpacha in the Caprivi Strip towards the end of my two years:

Hup two, three, four...

It's up to you not to heed the call-up
'N' you must not act the way you were brought up
Who knows the reasons why you have grown up?
Who knows the plans or why they were drawn up?

It's up to you not to heed the call-up
I don't wanna die!
It's up to you not to heed the call-up
I don't wanna kill!

For he who will die
Is he who will kill

Maybe I wanna see the wheatfields
Over Kiev and down to the sea

All the young people down the ages
They gladly march off to die
Proud city fathers used to watch them
Tears in their eyes

There is a rose that I want to live for
Although, god knows, I may not have met her
There is a dance an' I should be with her
There is a town - unlike any other

It's up to you not to hear the call-up
'N' you must not act the way you were brought up
Who gives you work and why should you do it?
At fifty-five minutes past eleven
There is a rose...

Hup two, three, four...I love the marine corps..

Joe Strummer was a wordsmith of the highest calibre, and I can still repeat just about every word of every song.

The reign of the super powers must be over
So many armies can't free the earth
Soon the rock will roll over
Africa is choking on their Coca Cola

It's a one a way street in a one horse town
One way people starting to brag around
You can laugh, put them down
These one way people gonna blow us down

(extract from "Charlie Don't Surf", "Sandiniasta!")

For the last six months of my army days, and throug much of the seven years of my university career that followed, I carried a photocopy of the lyrics around with me. Sad but true! Actually, a few months ago back in South Africa I found my university work folder...and the lyrics were still there! It was a sad day for me when The Clash threw in the towel in the late 80’s.

Living in London in 1989-90, I was lucky enough to make it to a Joe Strummer concert with my mates Eduard and Mark Murray. Yeee-haa!!! He played a brace of old Clash songs and it was great to see the guru in action..."Earthquake Weather" was a good but undersold album. For me, Strummer then disappeared into obscurity for ten years...until 2000 when I caught him on Jools Holland’s TV show with his new group, The Mescaleros. The live set was OK, but didn’t really impress me at the time.

Fast-forward. Earlier this week I was killing time in the FNAC record store on the Champs Elysee in Paris. It was after midnight and I was aimlessly browsing...and then I heard it! The unmistakable voice, intonation and lyrics...yup...Joe Strummer was being piped through the store’s system, and it was new stuff that I did not know. It took me a while but I eventually found the CD: Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros: "Global A Go-Go". Last night I played it for the first time...and then played it at least five times more, pouring over the full lyric sheet (a-la The Clash). Wow!! What brilliant stuff! The eclectic mix of musical styles is outstanding and the lyrics are as masterful as ever, reflecting the same concerns that have always inspired Strummer’s music. I got to bed close on 04h00 this morning...with a broad smile on my face.

045778052226

Advice: get online, spend the US$ 13.99, get the album, settle down with a bottle of whisky and the lyric sheet...and enjoy!! One of the best albums I have listened to in years. Really.

Cheers, MAlfaRK © Saturday, January 19, 2002

P.S. No, I am not earning a commission from Hellcat Records!! ;-)

P.P.S. If you would like to read all of their lyrics, take a look at the excellent "The Clash Song Lyrics by Albums" page.

P.P.P.S. Tragically, Joe Strummer died of a heart attack on December 22, 2002, eleven months after this was written. I hope he got to read it...

Waar Is?


By Gerhard Elmar Schröder
Originally posted on Sunday, June 9, 2002


Ek staan hier hoog op 'n krans en staar uit oor...wat 'n oseaan behoort te wees. My voete staan op...wat 'n sagte groen mos moet wees. My gesig en hare is klam van...wat sagte druppels uit die wind moet wees.

Ek staan...

Liewe Heer waar was jy? Ek het wel gesien daar is bloed aan jou sy. Is ek, was ek of gaan ek? Ek kyk hier in die groot spieël wat die agterkant van my oog vir my hou. Ek sien lag, ek sien ek maak 'n verskil, ek sien...wat de fok sien ek? Ek doen dan dit wat U gesê het ek moet doen…gee.

Shakespear gooi roekeloos sy advies oor liefde: "Jy kan net dit gee wat jy het." Mooi William! Wat as jy so lank als gegee het en skielik is jy leeg! Wat maak jy as dit wat jy gee aan haar waaroor jou lewe gaan, boring is of as 'n depressie in koerantpapier toegedraai word of as manlike wellus verag word of sommer in sinus snot as laf beskryf word. Waar hy, wat vir haar die koning was, sy kleed moet gebruik om die vals saad van skaam eensaamheid van sy grot se vloer af moet afvee? Besef jy dat dit 'n leeg is wat iemand wat gemaklik is met alleen wees oor die vreemde terrein van eensaamheid terg?

Jy klop...en die lag binne hou net aan lag, niemand maak oop nie. Jy skraap die moed van die verworpe koning bymekaar...gryp die trompet wat jou donkertyd uitbassuin...niemand vra iets uit oor die fucked-up deuntjie nie.

Die trompet se liedjie het vae woorde...iets wat dit beskryf wat opgebottel het: Jy tas uit na dit wat heilig is, daardie simbole wat dit wat jy jou lewenstas mee gevul het, wat die NG man beskryf het as 'n eenheid...dit is "walglik" is die snyende opinie, jou hand word 1000 maal weggeklap. Die waslap van verwerping moet hierdie rituele walging wegvee. Die Bybel sê "draai die ander wang"...beteken dit dat dit op almal van toepassing is, selfs vir daai kus wat die eenheid moet verseël?

Die intelektueel verhewenes vee 'n kwas van opvoeding...vrouens ervaar seks meer emosioneel as mans. Ek verdoem hierdie vals profete met die groen brommers en wurms wat dit verdien. Ek is nie 'n vrou nie en dit is nie seks nie. Dit is die seël van die NG man se "eenheid". Hoe kan dit vir 'n uitgerekte agt jaar vassteek en eenvoudig op die yskas geplak word as nog 'n huistakie wat verrig moet word? Is die kinders se oppasser dan belangriker as die fluweel van verkoeling en genesing wat 'n naweek weg kan bring? Is die vroeg huistoe kom, geskenke, boodkappe, oorvluisters, skimpe, drukkies en luister dan alles verkeerd en kritiek?

Was U kruis ook oortrek met antibiotiese splinters en epileptiese drogbeelde? Het U ook nagte wakker gelê omdat dit wat U probeer sê het mense woedend laat wegstorm het?

Ek is stil. Waar de fok gaan ek nou? Waar het ek dan opgefok? Hoe moet ek dan gee, of mis ek die boodskap. Moses het sy boodskap teen die rotse stukkend geslaan. Waar's die rotse? Wat de fok is die boodskap? Wat moet ek stukkend slaan?


Cheers, MAlfaRK on behalf of Gerhard Elmar Schröder ©

Grumpy Old Man on the Music of the 70s


I'm a grumpy old man in my mid-50's and, like many of my friends, have a soft spot for the music of the 70's - my teenage years. We tend to romanticise the era and its music, waxing lyrical on the proto-metal groups (Black Sabbath, Deep Purple and Uriah Heep), the mould-breaking glam rockers (David Bowie, Marc Bolan & T-Rex, Kiss), some of the pompous Prog Rock acts (Focus, Pavlov's Dog, Rick Wakeman, Led Zeppelin), the punk ground-breakers who blew it all away at the end of the decade, in under 2 minutes 59 (The Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Ramones, Ian Dury & the Blockheads) and the electronica that came of age in parallel to it all (Kraftwerk, Gary Numan, et. al).

Nice. All good and well. But - fucking hell - it wasn't all good music in the 70's. And being isolated in a pariah state at the arse end of Africa, under draconian international sanctions and with censored, state-controlled radio made it even worse. At the time, I hated the effing-70's. We had no TV, very little international exposure and on the radio, we didn't hear any of the bands I've mentioned above. The politically-approved dross (disguised as music) that we were fed, was abysmal and the only way that I heard about the music scene in the rest of the world was via the large antenna I constructed on the roof of my parent's home to pick up the feint "LM Radio" signal from Mozambique, and the UK music magazines that I encouraged my mother to buy for me, in lieu of a slice of my pocket money.

It was through these publications that I got a peek into what was happening beyond the borders of apartheid, and where I first read about metal, Bowie, Bolan, Slade, Kiss, punk, Marley, Tosh and reggae (although I had no idea how to pronounce the latter as I'd never heard anyone actually speaking the word)!

So just how bad was mainstream music in the 70's? I trip to my local charity shop a couple of weekends ago quickly reminded me of the crap that your average man in the street was listening to back then. For 99 pence I bought an original 1975 pressing of "16 Chart Hits - Volume 19"...purely because I saw that it included Kraftwerk's seminal track "Autobahn".

Grumpy Old Man on the Music of the 70s

So I got the album home and, while cleaning it up, noticed that the disk did not match the sleeve - instead I'd got "Volume 17" with only one vaguely redeeming track, namely BTO's "Rolling on Down the Highway". But surely there must have been at least a few more listenable tracks on the disk?

Dear friends - if you want to remind yourself just how bad Joe Public's music was in the 1970's, dig up one of these old albums. The music was formulaic, insipid, honey‐lipped, mealy‐mouthed crap! Sickening...and it flashed me back to those brown corduroy bell-bottoms that I hated so much! Urrgh - get out of there. Come to think of it, in an era where manufactured boy/girl groups dominate the airwaves, we've probably gone full circle. Utterly depressing, and I look forward to the next Sex Pistols / Nirvana to step up and kick the music industry in the bollocks :-)

Cheers, MAlfaRK ©


Sunday, 9 September 2012

Black Sabbath - Sun City, 1987


Black Sabbath @ Sun City, Bophuthatswana, August 1, 1987

Lineup:

In the 1980's, the UK-based Artists Against Apartheid (AAA) started to focus on the role played by those working in the entertainment industry in propping up apartheid. AAA pushed for the complete cultural isolation of South Africa, including Sun City in the "independent" apartheid homeland of Bophuthatswana. As a consequence, fewer musicians played Sun City in the latter half of the decade, and many of those who previously had done so pledged not to do so again, and thereby had their names removed from the UN black list (e.g. Elton John, Rod Stewart, Dolly Parton and Queen). Those that did perform at Sun City were heavily criticized, especially within the press.
 
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Black Sabbath were banned from a Dutch concert hall in Tilburg when the owner heard that they had played at Sun City in 1987. By 1989, the AAA had essentially ended the steady flow of musicians to South Africa. ("Popular Music Censorship in Africa", Michael Drewett & Martin Cloonan, 2006, p.27)

As politically incorrect as it may have been, I was 26, metal-starved and was at the Black Sabbath concert at Sun City. It was one that I wasn't prepared to miss, and I'm glad that I didn't. What a show...one of my best ever! There were a total of six gigs played in Sun City. Sabbath played on Saturday and Sunday, over the course of three weekends.

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The dates of these gigs were July 25/26, August 1/2 and August 8/9. These photos are from the gig on Saturday, August 1, 1987 and feature the friends who travelled there with me - Schalk Willem Vorster, Andre Carel Smith, his girlfriend of the month and Debra Childs.

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Cameras were strictly prohibited at Sun City (and all patrons were searched before entering the arena), but I managed to smuggle the body of my Pentax ME Super into the venue in my underpants! My girlfriend did the same with the 50mm camera lens. We managed to get right to the front of the stage, and I shot off a roll of 24 frames that magical night. A quarter of a century since the concert, these rare (and copyrighted) images are seeing the light of day for the first time.

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Typical 1987 Set List:

01. Neon Knights
02. Children of the Sea
03. War Pigs
04. Die Young
05. Drum Solo
06. Iron Man
07. Born to Lose
08. Guitar Solo
09. Black Sabbath
10. Glory Ride
11. Heaven & Hell
12. Children of the Grave
13. The Shining
14. Paranoid

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See my full set of photos of Sabbath at Sun City HERE