Last week’s Loose Talk was fun to write because of the subject at hand –music (DJs, to be precise). Talking music comes naturally to me–because I am a well-known, proud, un-repentant and self-taught music pro. I appreciate the fact that music is wisdom with a flow. Yes, that’s why I had to end the previous sentence with the word “flow”, so that it could pair and rhyme sweetly with the “pro” in the second sentence. Which brings me to my next anecdote about music: It’s organised sound. Or how you organise sound. That said, music can’t really be said to be wisdom with a flow if it concerns itself only with such topics as describing the female anatomy and imaginary cars and mansions and girlfriends –of course not to say that there is anything wrong with the shape of women’s bodies. Music ought to always be deeper than this. It should be serious business. Just the other day, I and my gangos passed through a great tribulation. So great was our pain and loss that we all run and took refuge in music that specifically addressed our situation. That is the only way we managed to not register a suicide case among our group. Of course, the music that kept us going was far different from the type I just described earlier, in which mythical cars and cash and girls are packaged to us as music. Rather, it was great stuff that has made me get even more selective about what and who makes it to my playlist. In fact, I have set a string of conditions that a musician must fulfill before they can even dream of me ever touching their records. The first and most important condition to all musicians out there is that before I play your stuff, I will have to know your stated and categorical position on the universal subject of death without dignity. There are few things, if any, that I know to be worse than death without dignity. In fact, death to all death without dignity. As a person who refuses to believe the illusions and phantoms of an afterlife of perfect harmony between humankind and ‘animalkind’ in some place called Paradiso, undignified death is my very own idea of ‘public enemy number one’. That is why when I and my gangos faced that great tribulation I talked about earlier, we crawled and curled out backs into the music of Kamaliza and Cécile Kayirebwa.
