15 February 2010, 4:56 pm
…We just call it a blockbuster now.
“B-movie” (1981, off Reflections) has always been my favourite Gil Scott-Heron track, far more so than his most well-known “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” (1971, off Pieces of a Man), which now has lost it’s spark in any case through far too many ironic, counter-ironic and mangled quotations and misinterpretations. Obama’s election to presidency of the USA, for instance, led to many people saying that, finally, the revolution was being televised, trying to show they are hip to Gil Scott-Heron but taking a dig at him – his song had finally lost its ostensible analytical edge. Few paused to think that the famous line really means that if it is televised, it is not a revolution. Which is really what the song, as analysis of the entertainment industry, is saying.
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2 Comments | Listening, Poetry, Politics and Culture | Tagged: B Movie, funk, George Bush, Gil Scott Heron, Hollywood, Rap, Reagan, Soul, The Revolution will not be televised, USA | Permalink
Posted by RK
13 December 2008, 10:07 am
I did start smoking dagga. Details evade me, but the first time would have been on that large veld where die dam was, the farmhouse now abandoned. It would have been at some point during the last three years of high school, with Bokkie, Hare and MC, who had all already tried dope a few times.
By Std. 9 or 10, an obligatory drinking culture had developed among many of our peers, some of them friends. At an older friend’s flat or in Orleans Park with friends who were already at university, and who thus had bursary money to burn and were of legal age, some of my friends drank away their weekends. ‘n Kis biere, ‘n bottel hardehout (hard tack). Four people. One evening’s drinking. Or these were friends from school who were now already at university (I failed Std 8 in 1981 and thus had old class mates a year ahead of me). I didn’t drink. While I may have been intrigued by alcohol (advertising, or from seeing an uncle from my mother’s side lean on a fence on a hot day, a chilled can of Black Label in hand), as a good Muslim boy I stayed away from it, having developed the appropriate distaste towards it and its consumers. Even had I had the interest, I would not have been able to disappear from home for two days, which was needed for my drinking friends, ‘sleeping over’ at an older, independent friend, drinking, passing out, sobering up. Read the rest of this entry »
9 Comments | Politics and Culture, Prose | Tagged: alcohol, apartheid, Christian National Education, Dagga, Diamonds are forever, disco, Ford, funk, garam, Islam, Jan van Riebeeck Drive, Klein Nederburg, Linton Kwesi Johnson, LKJ, Marijuana, militarism, Mojo's, Muslim youth and drugs, Mustang Mach 1, New Orleans, Noorder Paarl High School, Paarl, reggae, South Africa, Steel blade drinking blood in darkness, Thriller, Tiffany's, Wellington | Permalink
Posted by RK