LIVING LIFE : Old is gold

Is music of the old making a comeback or is everyone growing so old to be so in love with very old music? If lately you have been cooing along to the music of your parent’s generation or at least the generation of your older bothers and sisters, you might want to ask yourself why. When I was young I really did not choose the kind of music I listened to. There was a lot of Franco, Tabuley, Mbilia Bel and even Don Williams, and I did not like any of it. Just for your information I was the break-dance king among the kids of the neighborhood (forgive the bragging), never mind that these days it is easier to coax a song out of a frog than to get me onto the dance floor. Clearly the dancing was not in the genes. What with all the short infant fat and an unbelievable ability to do crazy things without worrying about it? After moonlighting on hip-hop, raga, and R&B for years, I have suddenly developed a worrying affinity for Lionel Richie, Mbilia Bel, the Bee Gees and God forbid, Les Wanyika. Now I think so highly of my Rumba so much that sometimes it feels like I was born much later than I should have. And by Rumba, I don’t mean Koffi Olomide and all the Koffi Olomide look-alikes who sing like Koffi Olomide and look for beautiful girls who sing and dance like Koffi Olomide’s queen dancers! I mean anything from Congo that came before Kanda Bongo Man – the seventies and eighties kind of thing whose real capital was Nairobi instead of Kinshasa. By the way the nearest I have come to going to Congo is crossing a few meters into that country from three different places, but as always was too scared of going nay deeper. What if I go deeper and find my twin brother there? I am not alone, apparently. Patrick, a mechanical engineer has loaded hundreds of oldies on his 3G Nokia mobile. Whenever he has the time you can find him nodding to James Ingram’s “Always” or something closer to it, never mind that this kind of music in not fodder for any breakfast show on FM radio. Now I wonder what is wrong with people of my generation. How come we love Billie Jean more than You Rock My World? Michael Jackson did the first one when we were in our diapers (No, they used to call them nappies) and the second one when we were wearing oversized baggy jeans, which looked like an adult’s diapers. Those were the days when we talked like we were rapping, when Tupac and Notorious BIG were like God and we were proud to be called names like Nigger. Seriously, am not sure if we had not run mad? But I guess a man has got to go through these things in order to really grow up. Have you ever wondered why old men of about fifty spend the whole night clubbing and attempting to shake their frail bones to Dr. Claude’s songs instead of staying home to nod along to Kenny Rogers? It is because they never got a chance to run mad the proper way. So if you are still young, run mad responsibly while everyone still understands that it’s normal for your age to run mad. If you are very old, like me (oops), then go for the gold! I wish you a musical Sunday. kelviod@yahoo.com