It’s time to get Confusing!

I am absolutely flummoxed by the ways of non-rockers. What do they mean when they say of themselves ‘I rock’ when they can neither play an instrument nor hum to a single song that isn’t lady Gaga’s poker face? And when they say rock is evil, do they mean it’s inspired by the devil? Or does it inspire evil doing? This got me thinking, what can I do to make people understand that it isn’t music that’s evil; rather, people are?

Without thinking too hard, I feel that many musicians sing about my life as it was, and as it will be. Their lyrics give me delusions of grandeur. “I just found out there’s no such thing as real world,” he sings to me, convincing me that someday, I’ll fly, someday I’ll soar, because I’m bigger than my body gives me credit for.

John Mayer sang these words and about vultures hiding right outside his door while simultaneously, playing completely discordant chords on his fender. Before he knew it, he was free falling because gravity was working against him. He was talking about paparazzi going to whatever lengths to get his pictures, the more compromising the better. He sang about his half smile and zero shame; a reflection with a different name. Now if that’s a bad thing then I guess we all belong in a schizo-clinic; and he’d be all our boss because his eye-hand-mouth co-ordination is unparalleled.

Macy Gray tried to say goodbye and choked, tried to walk away and stumbled, when she tried to hide it, it was clear that there was nothing evil in her words.

In 1997, Pink was Steve Tyler’s new obsession because back then it was the color of passion and just went with the fashion. Now while his words might have raised questions about his sexual orientation, the song was and still is a hit because of his use of wordplay.

Incidentally, at around the same time, a young Jason Mraz was composing Remedy and You and I both in which he heard two men talking on the radio in a crossfire kind of new reality show, the bright lights turned to night and after being all around the world mixing and mingling found another way to live a life of leisure; he wrote, recorded and performed his hit single Wordplay. Over ten years later, before the cool ran out, he gave it his ‘bestest’ and urged people to see that it was their God intended right to be loved, loved, loved. I listened to these songs and decided that I too was a curbside prophet, waiting for my rocket to come.

Even in 1975, when rock n’ roll was at its peak, Freddie Mercury, who would later die of AIDS cried to his mother, in Bohemian Rhapsody.  “Life had just begun,” he says, “and now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.”He not only shows remorse for whatever wrong he’s supposed to have done but also urges us to carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters if he has not returned this time tomorrow.

Now, If you’re still wondering what ‘who did you think I was’ is about and if you have no idea what I’ve been saying, and if you still think rock n’ roll is evil, and if you’re sitting there with a confused look on your face thinking, ‘this girl is insane’ then, you most definitely DO NOT ‘rock’.

I know, it’s only rock n’ roll but I like it – yes I do.

So this is what it feels like to be homicidal...and broke.

What a life I lead!


If all I did was music, I’d probably have starved to death already because guess what? My show got cancelled!


Yup! After weeks of rehearsal, nerves, finger and nail damage, some event manager decided my band wasn’t well known enough to cut it. Hell! If all event managers thought like this, Hendrix, Kansas and every other great musician who started just like me would never have made it. Not to say that I’m as good as any of them but when starting out, it’s good to have yardsticks that are better than you might ever be.


So here I am pretending to the black version of Courtney Love playing for Kurt Cobaine during the dress rehearsal and before I know it, midnight comes a’ knocking. Everyone but the singer is present but we’ve been so engrossed in perfecting our parts that we didn’t notice she hadn’t arrived. Front-men and women are generally dramatic, moody and ‘fashionably’ late so we let it slide this time. It was now two days before Sunday’s scheduled show and we get the rude realization we’ve been snubbed.


True to character, our front person, Kelly, dramatically depressed, explains everything and the fact that the employer – those guys they like to call corporate – had decided to go with a better known artist. This had us all crying on account of the oestrogen saturation that characterizes an all female band.


Not to sound new-agey and stuff but hasn’t it ever occurred to lady I-don’t-know-who- Sandpaper-are, that maybe even they need a new sound injected into their monotonous track lists. You can’t possibly have the same listeners forever. There is such a thing as a new generation. But that show was not to be, for Sunday came and went and all I did was stage an imaginary kung-fu duel where I beat the crap out of the event manager with my guitar.


Boy, was I miffed! I’d spent nearly all my money knowing that Sunday would be payday, my outfit was all ready and sparkling, I had a manicure – Jeri the all round tom boy had a manicure and it cost me five hundred; five hundred that I would have spent on two copies of last year’s Q magazine.


Diary, it’s not so much that I spent a lot of dough preparing for this, it’s that people, supposedly of influence can write you off just because they’ve never heard of you. As if people start out by being as famous as say, B.B. King. He was a nobody at some point too. No one is paying attention to new comers; exactly the reason why the people dominating award shows now have been doing so for fifteen, twenty years.


No. The world, no matter how unreceptive, will not push us down for we are the sun. We’re never really gone; we’re just on the other side.


It’s just like Kansas said: Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done.

Nine

Any hint of self esteem I might have had went out the window this past Saturday.

I had the honor and pleasure of watching the performance of one very talented singer at an amphitheatre somewhere in Lavington, Nairobi and decided that perhaps it was time I gave up music all together because if that’s what I have to compete with, I might as well try competing financially with Oprah Winfrey. But there was a way out of this sudden feeling of talentlessness.

I made it a hobby to try and sing like all my favorite singers, men and women alike. And since the way to learn is by emulation, I decided to hang around this wonderfully gifted singer, Esmeralda. It was not long before she had me under her wing, if only for that day, teaching me how to breathe, the facial expressions to make; it was a struggle and different from my default rock n’ roll sneer.

And so with my newly acquired skills – of controlling the crowd with my mind – I went back out into the world to put them to practice. Well, the world consisted of five of my neighbours, the watchman, the house help and the building caretaker, but it is a wise performer that tests their strengths on a dummy audience. I thought of calling my best friends but they would just smile and congratulate me even if I did a horrible job, because according to them, that’s what friends do – let you make a fool of yourself and then convince you that you were ‘the bomb’.

After what I thought was a breathtaking performance, I stood in front of my audience waiting for feedback. Now, judging from their lack of expression, I had had absolutely no impact whatsoever, or these guys were really good actors. But as it turned out, looking at someone with a blank face after they’ve shocked you is an Indian thing, according to Anmol. She lives in the flat above mine.

“Jeri that was amazing!” her daughter Indu said to me with that same non-expression. Where I come from, an extraordinary performance is met with more song and dance. The caretaker was indifferent, the watchman just wanted to know If he could play my guitar when I was done. It was Hakim though that gave me the honest feedback.

“Okay, one, your voice is almost perfect, you need to make your strumming cleaner and more distinct, right now, you’re just banging away,” he took a breath, “aside from that I really hope you’re planning to vamp up your outfit.”

Okay.

As soon as that was done, I went back into my flat, locked myself in my room and pulled a Prince: recorded myself playing every instrument I had, drums, rhythm, bass, keyboard, and then I played the lead over it with a metronome on. This, according to Hakim would help me keep time with other instruments and perfect my solo. The tricky part was playing lead and singing at the same time. I’ve found that it’s much easier singing what you play, literally.

I have until tomorrow night to practice, then Sunday all heavy metals will be sipping out of my fingers. Wish me luck, for it’s been hard work.

There we go...

Sometimes I’ll stay up really late thinking about my life, my future, the career in music I might never have….
Sometimes I’ll look out across the street and see light in the windows of my strange neighbours and know their thinking the same thing. Where do I go from here? Has everything I’ve done in the past been building up to one moment of catastrophic failure? Will it ever get any better than this? Will anyone care for more than a few minutes if I died right now? Should they? Should that bother me? It’s a phenomenon we try to ignore most of our lives, unless of course you’re a Goth. Or an Emo.
I don’t think we have authentic ones in this, our ‘beloved’ country. If they do exist and they’re hiding it then I guess their living up to expectations; dark dangerous creatures of the night taking the form of ordinary human beings but partaking of human sacrifices in the secrecy of their dungeons. Death scares me. What I wouldn’t give to be a vampire right about now. Then again, who wants to live through eternity? Alive but not living, dead but breathing…
Death. Seems to be happening everywhere nowadays. Could be that I’m just paying more attention than I used to. And the fact that I’m aging noticeably isn’t helping. Sort of makes one realize that everyone is born dying. Some just take longer to burn out. There it is again; that negativity that latches onto my ankle and won’t let go. Relationships don’t work for me. I have too many flaws and rather than wait to be left for them, I make them known and then proceed to break up with my ‘boyfriends’ on their behalf. Stupid I know, but I can’t seem to help myself.
Ships are sailing and I’m standing at the docks waving goodbye to my many possible future. Planes and trains take off, cars drive away and here I am, still waving. It’s as if I’m waiting for something but I don’t know it. Ever wonder why things are going the way they are despite your every wish and attempt to make them go the other way? That exactly is my situation. If I could only find a direction, just one direction, not a forked road, to take and never look back, then life would be much simpler. But life is never that simple is it. It’s a fucking catastrophe if you think about it.
It’s funny now that I think about it, it actually makes sense. The reason God makes us forget things as we get older is because if we did remember, especially all the bad we’ve been through, we wouldn’t be able to handle it. I’m all for forgetfulness. It’s my favorite thing after Music, John Mayer and Meat and Michael Buble. Sometimes I even forget how broke I am and when I do remember, I wonder how I survive from month to month and not lose a single gram of weight.

FatSo 3

Even though I wake up feeling like I've been chasing chicken all night, I manage to be at work by ten and work until about 8pm. I'm tired all the time. I want to sit all the time but I've started walking a lot. If I get the new house, I might be able to exercise daily by walking to and from work.

The new house overlooks the banks of the Nairobi River. There's a rumor going round that the government is planning to built an ultra modern shopping complex all along the banks. I hope it's true and I hope I live to see it. In fact. I hope I own that house forever. I think I might buy the house soon. I mean the residential complex. It's a sweet place to live and to own.

I can only hope I won't be alone and lonely like a certain someone I know.

FatSo continued...

I woke up today feeling fatter than ever. Don't know how much I weigh, I'm afraid to know but that's stupid. I know the stuff that goes through my mouth and my lack of any sort of muscular activity is to blame. Matt says I shouldn't start any sort of regime that I'm not likely to continue forever. I know his right. I just don't see how I'm going to manage doing something from now until the day I die or get incapacitated.

So, we all know that diets are the hardest to stick to. Movement is a more likely solution to this little fat issue I'm having to deal with. I've walked before. Long distances. It's not a big deal to me. The problem is the time during which I can walk and the routes that I can walk without fear of strangulation by a strange man. The women criminals are rarely violent here, they're just crafty. So I've analyzed my options. They're not that many. I shall have to bid goodbye the midnight chapati's I've come to love. No more creamy sauces for my vegetables.

I'm not sure that water works. They say it does, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything for me.

I think I'll take Cole Phifer's advice and free myself from the 'Captivity of Negativity'. As soon I get positive about being healthy and stuff like that, I'll start to shed the unnecessary fat from my body.

Or will I?

FatSo

So I just went upstairs to like hijack a few white sheets of paper and I ran into a guy I haven't seen for a while. I mean I've seen him but we don't usually have time to speak like we did today. So, he was polite - at first - asking how I was and where I'd been I said "The floor right below yours". I mean if he really wanted to see me he could've taken the stairs said a quick halo then floated back onto his floor on that over inflated ego of his right?

So now things get mean. So I say that I'd come for some printing paper and he has me take some of his. I take 5 sheets even though I need like a hundred and fifty sheets. Just as I'm about to leave he drops this one on me.

"You've grown big eh?"

"Yeah, I'm like the fattest 24 year old on earth." I don't get embarrassed that easily. I've been fat for 10 out of those 24 years of my life so I'm used to the comments by now. So he continues.

"Don't you have like a skipping rope or something?"

I say:

"Ah No. Yeah I have a rope but it doesn't help that I come to work and sit does it? Then there's the little matter of the genes. You won't find anyone skinny in my family, heck! my clan. We're all a bunch of fatsos." And it's true.

I went on to explain how I have tried everything. I've dieted lost a few pounds then gained them all back. I've walked to work for months on end but lost only the fat in my fat ass and nowhere else. I just can't beat the fat genes.

So we finally end the conversation with a 'see ya' and I come down the stairs laughing at myself for making fun of myself. Does that make sense? If it doesn't, you're the slow one. I get to my desk and I tell my friend about how someone just told me in not so many words that I am fat. And I'm here thinking, wow! it is true. I'm fat as a pig and I'm getting fatter by the minute. There are these images of women on Oprah and Tyra saying how cool it is to be fat and that it's stupid to make fun of fat people. I think they're wrong. I think it's unhealthy to be fat. I think it slows you down when you're fat.

Fat is good but not when it shows through your clothes and flesh. I shall continue this discussion with myself tomorrow.

Adios.

The Roommate

I woke up today feeling hopeful, happy even. That was until I stepped out of my room and tripped on Jake, my roommate’s shoes. What are those old things doing here, I wonder? I don’t take one more step before I bump into my roommate and his unconventional sauce drenched French fries breakfast. There’s only so much I can do. We’re related by blood, so I give him a three-second long disapproving look as he apologized for staining my pajamas and then I moved on.

The only reason I put up with him aside from being related to him is because he cooks like a professional chef and sews like a high fashion designer – no, he’s not gay. If we weren’t related, I might have considered marrying him. Any aspiring performer could do with a designer in their own house; so as annoying as I find him, I consider myself lucky to have him.

This past weekend, I played at a show in Nairobi. The turnout was…well let’s just say there were a bunch of bands playing for other bands. But one thing rocked though, the costumes and the makeup were awe-inspiring. The morning of the show, I had trouble deciding what I would wear. I laid out a number of t-shirts and jeans on my bed and decided to take a walk, hoping it would help me gain some clarity of mind. The smoky Nairobi air does that sometimes; help you gain clarity.

Two hours later, I’m walking into the house and there’s the sound of slashing and tearing. I run through the hall to my room where the sound is coming from and what do I find? Jake holding pieces of the once whole t-shirts, trying to fit one rag to another. I’m about to curse my head off until I see one of my shirts, now sleeveless, rippled with what looks like patches of white, green and denim material. The work of a master artist, I think to myself. He notices me and immediately holds up the nearly finished product confident that I shall be impressed.

I am. Impressed and utterly confused because one, Jake is an accountant by profession and two, naturally, or by virtue of growing up rich turned out to be an unfathomably lazy adult. I can hardly get him to take a shower on a normal day, and then he goes and does this; transforms a perfectly mundane outfit into a glorious award winning wear-only-once kind of garment. It was hard work and painful, judging by the bloodstains on the white parts of the new shirt. He even frayed one of my pairs of jeans to make them look a little trashy for stage. Not only that, he also ‘super-glued’ one of my boots’ gaping soles and all in two hours. Of course, the audience (other bands) loved it.

Later that evening, he came home early from a date so he could moose my hair into a punk-rock Mohawk and transform my face into vampire like shades and shadows before the show. Sometimes he will do absolutely nothing at all, even on his days off or when he’s in between jobs and I have to support him for more than three months. Sometimes he’ll say annoying things that make me want to throw him out of my house.

Sometimes he’ll eat a week’s worth of food in one day. Sometimes he’ll use money intended to clear the electricity bill to buy himself a completely useless secondhand gadget. Sometimes he’ll complain about (how dirty his room is) things that he can fix himself. But then sometimes, he goes and cooks me a meal like he knew I would come home really hungry, or he’ll do my laundry or clear all the bills himself. For that the fire in the pit of my stomach dies out and I can live another day with him in my house forgiving him for every time he raised my blood pressure.

Heck, if he does turn out to be gay, I’ll eventually forgive him, and I won’t even be surprised.

Rock in Kenya

Rock in Kenya
By

You’d think it was something out of a vampire movie set in the middle ages. The black clothes, the white and black facial make up, the silver chains, crosses, studs and rings, spiked arm guards and wrist bands; the marks of a rocker. Though slow, a revolution that’s happening and Kenyan Rock is today what European and American Rock were in the 70’s; unacceptable, deplorable, evil, a bad influence even.

The Rock Culture, in spite of its perception is gradually creeping into the Kenyan music scene.

A monthly Rock event dabbed the Battle of the Bands is held every first Sunday at the Rezorus Bar and Restaurant. It was started exactly one year ago in March by Mukasa Namulanda (Music to Overdrive - M2O) and provides a platform where bands can showcase their talent and compete against each other. Keeping the Battles going month after month are the fans that turn out to cheer their favourites. On Thursdays, the Daas Ethiopian Restaurant (Westlands), hosts a number of rock bands. So far the Go down centre has hosted two rock events, between 2007 and 2008.

To bring every band from every subgenre of Rock and their fans together, a widely attended, yearly shin dig, Rocktober Fest is held at the Carnivore. This is where the crazy meets the crazier as fans mosh (dance in a crazed manner) on the mosh pit (dance floor) to their favourite local bands.

Performing bands at any of those venues have included LYT, Narcissistic Tendencies with Delusions of Grandeur (NTWDOG- Punk Rockers), The Espionage, Awakening, Murfy’s Flaw, M2O, Seismic, Iscariot’s Smile (a side project of LYT), Groove Hogs, Ueta and Rock of Ages, and are all Kenyan.

Just one listen will reveal the amount of preparation that has gone into their performances. Another impressive aspect is the fact that many of the bands perform their own music and only a few covers of better known international bands. If you seek the Kenyan Rockers Living the Rock lifestyle, then Rocktober Fest is the place to be. It is where Rock Culture meets Kenyan Culture and the clash is evident.

John “Tazz” Matasa is a regular at rock concerts all over Nairobi. His Goth-like creations range from silver rings, wrist bands and arm guards to bracelets, necklaces, chains, belts, leather jackets and trousers. His is to provide the rockers with attire for the occasion. He owns a shop on 20th Century Building's fir where all the rock paraphernalia can be found. They do not disappoint.

Those who just love the Rock music but don’t want to mix in that culture, go to places like Choices Club, or others with such theme nights as Rock Night.
In spite of the positivity that Kenyan Rockers exude when they speak of their music, the Rock Culture has been dogged by allegations of negative influence to the youth, some causing suicide, murder and other acts of violence. Rock music has been for years labeled “the Devil’s Music”.

In 1993, Norwegian Kristian Varg Vikernes, a Goth Rock guitar player in the band Mayhem (among many other bands) was charged with murder and Arson. He not only claimed responsibility for burning four churches in Bergen, Norway, but also openly castigated Christians for being pretentious hypocrites and even more openly endorsed Satanism. In an interview for the documentary Head banger’s Journey, he said:

“Satanism represents freedom, that’s why we are burning down churches because Christians are against us.” Vikernes was sentenced to 21 years in prison where the interview was held. He was however released on parole in March of 2009, after serving 16 years in prison.

The situation in Kenya is very different. The slow acceptance of Rock’s genres and sub genres in Kenya has discouraged many musicians from playing their music in public because of the negativity their music is received with. Bands like Last Year’s Tragedy (LYT) however are fighting to change the perception of the heavier more grungy and metallic sounding genres of rock. Ruto Kipkulei a 25 year old classically trained pianist plays Keyboards for LYT. He clarifies what Rock and the Rock Culture and lifestyle in Kenya represent.

“The Rock lifestyle in Kenya as we speak is simply the love of rock music and all its sub genres,” he says. “The claims made about rockers drinking blood and sheep brain, having sex orgies or sniffing and smoking illegal stimulants at Goth parties is absolute nonsense. Kawaida (normal) parties are more likely to have that kind of thing going on than rock parties are.”

He adds that most Kenyan rockers are actually educated, Christian or other religion and would not blindly subject themselves to unnecessary suffering or practice such potentially self destructive behaviour. Kenyans, he asserts, are working towards making their lives better, not worse.

So advanced is the Rock culture in Kenya that they have a website of their own. Once logged onto www.rock.co.ke the discussions include the plan to have a party at the Nyayo Stadium war cemetery! Some say the party must start at midnight sharp; drinks will be blood and sheep brain!

“The chat conversations on the site cannot be taken as gospel truth. Exaggeration happens in every chat room,” says Ruto (LYT).

Rock culture is without doubt here. That which we read about in books, newspapers or even watch on TV is now largely practiced by our Kenyan youth. Started by college students and supported by the young but working class adults. Just as the splash on www.rock.co.ke reads, rock is not just music, it’s a Lifestyle. But are there people who actually live this lifestyle? A lifestyle that many books, documentaries and newspapers have associated with Satanism, death, drug abuse, sex orgies and bloody scenes?

Asked about Goth and the Gothic Lifestyle Shiv Mandavia, a metal head, is quick to explain that Kenyans are yet to fully understand what Goth is. “Most young guys now like to say that they are Goths because they think it sounds cool,” he says. “Kenyan rock lovers have not got to the point where they would do stupid things like burn churches or have orgies just for the heck of it and I don’t believe they will because we are an intelligent people”. The same, he says applies to the extreme make up that many rock fans and performers will wear but only during gigs.

Gothic Rock, considered the darkest of Rock’s subgenres is yet to make its mark in the Kenyan Rock scene. The Ancient Goths who originated from Germany seem to have had some influence on the kind of Gothic Black Metal genre that emerged in the early 80s with bands like Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. Goths like Varg Vikernes, who was wholly against Christianity, share a lot with the original Goths who were mostly considered either Satanists of Atheists. Goth Rock is characterized by lyrically disturbing and depressing outbursts, harmonic chants, growls against a backing of heavy melodic metal sounding guitars, drums and keyboards and the organ.

Bleed (Martin Kirui) is a die-hard metal head who says that the Kenyan Goth community though minute, does exist. “Goths acknowledge a deep sense of death and the acceptance of it as a normal happening, and that there’s beauty in death as there is in life. They wear black clothes and dark mascara to that effect and to show that they’re not afraid of death.” Bleed who in spite of his name says that he is a deeply spiritual man who sanctifies the life within him. He listens to Goth and appreciates them but is a die-hard metal head (lover of rock metal and it’s subgenres like Viking Metal, Black Metal, Screamo, Emo, Speed and Melodic Metal).

Any Kenyan Rock band will have a list of bands that influence their music. Names like Demon Hunter, Slipknot, Killswitch Engage, Rage Against the Machine, Destroy the Runner, Amon Amarth, Daylight Dies pop up. While that may send shivers up your spine, a little research reveals that Demon Hunter is actually a Christian Heavy Metal band, spreading the Gospel through their grungy sounding guitar riffs and deep guttural vocals. Anyone hearing this kind of music for the first time would quickly dismiss it as ‘devilish’ music. But that is not necessarily so.

“These kinds of negative and misinformed perceptions are what we are trying to correct because we the Rockers know that we are Christians. Rock is such a spiritual kind of music because you really become one with your instrument as your making music,” says Ruto.

“I don’t think Kenyans, because of our bringing up, are capable of going bloody in the name of rock,” says Njeri.

Psychology experts say that most of the rockers who go to the extent of doing extremely dangerous things in the name of rock, are those youngsters who always want to rebel in their homes.

“All they want to do is to go against their parents, either because they have gone through a difficult past with restrictive parents, or they are in the process. They are willing to show rebellion and they feel that rock music will give them the freedom they are looking for,” says Mercy Kemboi, a youth counselor in Nairobi.

While what Kemboi says may be true, the Rock genre cannot be blamed for all acts of rebellion and. The airwaves are currently clogged with R&B idolizing sex and Hip Hop which proposes that murder is cool. There’s definitely a good and bad side to all music but the rockers agree that the work that goes into creating a piece is painstaking and truly spiritual.

All of the interviewees strongly believe that Rockers would not go cutting themselves, filling up on drugs or burning churches or engaging in indiscriminate sex just because their European counterparts did so some 20 odd years ago.

If anything, they all agree on one thing; rock music requires a lot sacrifice, a lot of focus, persistence, patience and time. “With all the practice we do to perfect our skills give to the fans, there is simply no time to engage in drugs or sex orgies. As for the blood drinking, that’s a tradition that many Kenyan communities can identify with. There’s no human blood involved,” says an amused Bleed.

Nakumatt Burns Down