When a company is able to navigate generations, innovations and trends to enable it to reach its centenary, it is quite an achievement. Once this type of milestone has been reached, it usually means the company has managed to outlive its founders and become an entity unto itself. Not many organisations are able to survive the multiple stages of evolution that will culminate in a centenary celebration.

It, therefore, goes without saying that when an achievement such as this presents itself, it is an opportunity to celebrate, but more than that, to learn. It is important to interrogate those things that have allowed a company to successfully navigate 100 years. Gallo’s omnipresence in the South African music industry is one of its key characteristics. Over the years, I have interviewed many key role players from the South African music industry, and all of them have had some brush with this iconic record label.

Since 1926, the industry has experienced exponential growth and unprecedented innovation and shifts. In the year Gallo was founded, the South African national broadcaster, the SABC, did not exist, and neither did the country’s biggest collection society, SAMRO. Warner Bros. Records, one of the world’s most recognisable recording labels, was only established 32 years later in 1958.

When interrogating the history of other iconic recording labels, it is clear Gallo leads the way. RCA Victor was founded in 1929 and grew out of the Marconi Wireless Telegraph Company of America, founded in 1919. Universal Music Group (UMG) originated from the Decca recording label, founded in 1934. In 1952, Decca purchased Universal, and in 1962, MCA acquired Decca, relaunching as the Universal Music Group in 1996.

Sony originated from the American Record Corporation, founded in 1929. Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) purchased the label in 1938 and changed it to Columbia Records in 1947. Epic Records, founded in 1953, was a sister label, and in 1966 Columbia was renamed CBS Records. In 1987, Sony bought Columbia and renamed it Sony Music Entertainment.

EMI (Electrical and Musical Industries Ltd) started operating in the 1930s. BMG (Bertelsmann Music Group) was founded as a joint venture between RCA and Bertelsmann AG in 1985. The oldest label I found was MCA (Music Corporation of America), which opened in 1924 in Chicago. It was acquired by Decca in 1962 and incorporated into Universal in 1996.

From the above companies, the only ones that still exist by name are Sony, Universal, Warner Bros (the “Big Three”) and Gallo. Through a series of acquisitions and mergers, most of the other companies have been assimilated into “The Big Three”. Those labels either exist as subsidiaries of the main labels, been made dormant or shut down.

Since Gallo’s founding, the industry has gone from shellac records to vinyl, cassette tape, CD, MP3s, and streaming. Additionally, it has gone through various disruptions that I have documented in my “Moments That Changed Music” series. From the musicians’ strike in the 1940s, to the Payola Scandal of the late 1950s, the Disco Demolition Night of the 1970s, and the Milli Vanilli scandal of the late 1980s. The Napster Case of the late 1990s ushered in a revolution that many thought would end the industry once and for all, but here we still are, and now AI.

But where did it all start for Gallo, how has the company evolved, and what impact has it had on the South African music landscape? More importantly, what impact has it had on the evolution of South African culture and heritage, and in bringing the music of the people to the people? Music and musicians are not easily controlled by corporate organisations, which makes Gallo’s 100-year existence a greater celebration.

My history with the company dates back to the early 2000s and involves one of the company’s most iconic figures, Mr Ivor Haarburger. In 2000, I was a student at Allenby Campus, pursuing my dream of studying music. Every Friday, we had a guest lecture, highlighting various figures from the music industry. One week, we were told that the head of Gallo was coming to address us. I was so excited. Haarburger was speaking at Allenby Campus! This was a label I had seen, as a kid, on the back of many of my records.

The day arrived, and I consumed every word he conveyed, as if I was drinking from a well of knowledge. I was impressed with what he had accomplished in the music industry. In 2001, as I embarked on my music career, I called Mr Haarburger’s office and organised a personal meeting with the legend. I pitched up at his office in Rosebank and asked him for advice on how to start my career. He was very direct: what do you want to achieve and how do you think you’re going to get there? This gave me food for thought.

I never forgot my engagement with Mr Haarburger, and over the years we have bumped into each other various times. We spoke on a panel together at Moshito in 2011, and a few years ago we struck up a friendship, something I truly value. This friendship resulted in an interview, which I recorded here on Medium in my “Unsung Heroes” series, where he detailed his long history with Gallo Records. What struck me about his journey was how he started at the bottom and worked his way to the top. On the way, he learnt about every nuanced aspect of the business.

Eric Gallo, the founder of the company, was born in Pietersburg (today Polokwane) in 1904. Gallo was of Italian lineage, and the surname means rooster, hence the company logo. He moved to Johannesburg to study Civil Engineering at the University of the Witwatersrand. Two years later, he dropped out of university to pursue a career as a building entrepreneur. At 21, he started a retail gramophone business in the inner-city of Johannesburg at Brunswick Gramophone House on Commissioner Street.

The original business had a license to distribute goods produced by the Brunswick Corporation. These included products such as refrigerators, gramophones, sheet music and records. Brunswick owned a recording label, and these were the records Eric Gallo stocked. This division of Brunswick was later sold to Warner Brothers.

As an entrepreneur, Eric was trained to identify gaps and opportunities in the market. Gallo, who was also a music lover, started noticing that companies like HMV and Columbia were sending engineers to South Africa to record local talent. Although other countries were identifying a massive talent pool in South Africa, South Africans were not taking advantage of the opportunity. He therefore decided to start making his own recordings by establishing a recording studio. To establish the business, he used borrowed equipment and engineers from a defunct British company, Metropole, and created an initial studio in the basement of the Embassy Building on President Street near the Rissik Street Post Office.

In 1932, Eric Gallo bought a property on Troye Street in the Johannesburg City centre. He then commissioned architects Harrison, Tomkin and Richardson to add three floors, a recording studio and remodel the facade of the building in 1936. The studio, Gallo Recording Studios, became Africa’s first, and later a label was birthed called Gallotone.

The amalgamation of the studios and recording label in 1946 resulted in the formation of Gallo Africa, Ltd. In 1949, the company commissioned architects Stucke, Harrison and Smail to add more space in the building as well as updating the facade. The new look was a prime example of the Art Deco Revival movement. The building stands to this day and now possesses a “blue plaque” indicating its significance as a Johannesburg Heritage and music site.

Gallo originally focused on finding talent and recording music by Afrikaans and other African language artists. The focus was not initially on English music as they had a license to distribute catalogue from the Brunswick Corporation. Eric was committed to preserving and documenting African and indigenous sounds. He even hired iconic American ethnomusicologist Hugh Tracey to travel as far into Africa as Uganda to record ethnic sounds. These sounds formed the foundation of Gallo’s success.

In 1939 Arnold Golembo started a family retail store in Cape Town called Gramophone Record Company (GRC). The company eventually obtained a license to distribute Capitol Records’ catalogue in 1946. In 1956, GRC relinquished their Capitol license in favour of a CBS license and in 1985 GRC merged with Gallo. Arnold is considered to have brought the Rock audio aesthetic to the company and is largely credited as an iconic music business leader in South Africa.

The SABC (South African Broadcasting Corporation) came into existence 10 years after the establishment of Gallo in 1936, making the broadcaster 90 years old this year. This organisation was preceded by the African Broadcasting Company. It was established in 1927 by IW Schlesinger, a Hungarian-Jewish immigrant, when he purchased three of South Africa’s oldest radio stations. In 1936, before his government broadcast license expired, he sold his company to the state, resulting in the formation of the SABC.

This new platform gave players like Gallo an outlet for the music they had been producing for over a decade. In 1949, Gallo built a record pressing plant. The recording studio, label and plant were a first in South Africa, Africa, as well as one of the first in the world. Operations expanded exponentially, and the company eventually took over a compound, blocks away from Troye Street at No. 130–132 Kerk Street. The facility included various Gallo subsidiary administration offices, recording studios and rehearsal spaces.

Speaking to various people who were around at the time, it seems this move encouraged the formation of a creative community in the region. The Troye and Kerk Street buildings were not far from each other. Furthermore, Broadcast House, No. 169–171 Fox Street, the original home of the SABC commissioned by Schlesinger in 1936, was blocks away from the Gallo buildings. The South African entertainment hub was now located in the inner city of Johannesburg.

As a result of the formation of this infrastructure, the entertainment and creative community started to gather in the area. Musicians and recording artists used to hire rehearsal space; this would lead to recordings at the studios. Various collaborations and interactions were facilitated because of the proximity and accessibility of the community. Musicians, singers, producers and management people were constantly interacting with each other.

This creative community was responsible for some of the greatest recordings in South African history. This was at a time when the country was isolated from the world because of its problematic political ideology. What makes this even more heartening is that creatives from all races and backgrounds were communally making music in the buildings. This was a subtle rebellion against the system at a time when these interactions were illegal.

Research about creatives and creative migration indicates that creatives like to move to places other creatives inhabit. They like sharing in the art of creation, sharing ideas and honing their craft. This reminds me of buildings in New York like the Music Building, established in 1979 or the Brill Building, popular in the 1960s. The Gallo Precinct played a similar role, resulting in many iconic collaborations with local and international artists.

In 1962, Dr Gideon Roos, former director-general of the SABC, 1948–1961, decided to start Africa’s first collective management society, SAMRO. The South African Music Rights Organisation was started with the help of Gallo and Dr Gideon’s two sons (Paul and Gideon Jnr), both lawyers. Help was also sought from the UK’s performing rights society. Dr Gideon’s father was a famous South African rugby player, Paul Roos, after whom the Gymnasium school in Stellenbosch is named.

Through strategic alliances with key A&R personnel, Gallo continued to gain a competitive advantage. In the early days of the recording industry, key recording company employees fulfilled multiple functions. A&R people were, therefore, not only talent scouts, but were often also musicians, composers and producers, taking their artists from discovery through to product delivery. One of these key individuals was Rupert Bopape.

Rupert started his career in the recording industry in 1951 at Recording Industries, moving to EMI South Africa in 1955 and eventually to Gallo in 1964. At the company, he started the Mavuthela Music Company imprint, with Peter Gallo and David Fine, focused purely on African acts. This was quite a feat for a black entrepreneur in the midst of the Apartheid era. He brought a new sound to the country: Mbaqanga.

Rupert discovered artists like Simon Nkabinde, The Mahotella Queens, The Makgona Tsohle Band and Spokes Mashiyane. Bopape was a very successful recording executive, but in 1977 he suffered a mild heart attack and decided to retire. He passed away in Limpopo in 2012. His tenure at Gallo was followed by one of his protégés, West Nkosi.

West was famous for signing Ladysmith Black Mambazo and was instrumental in recruiting the talent who played on Paul Simon’s 1986 Graceland album. He died in a car crash in 1998, aged 58. Strike Vilakazi was another famous executive at Gallo. He was the first person of colour to be signed to SAMRO. He also wrote the struggle anthem ‘Meadowlands’. Strike headed the black division of Trutone between 1952 and 1970. In 1962, Gallo purchased Trutone and made it a subsidiary label.

Gallo eventually, through its various mergers and acquisitions, consisted of various sub-labels and subsidiaries. These included RPM, GRC, Teal, Trutone, WEA/Tusk, Troubadour, Meteor, Joburg and MFP. Artists on the roster included some of the most iconic South African acts of all time. These include Miriam Makeba, Hugh Masekela, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Lucky Dube, and Sipho ‘Hotstix’ Mabuse.

Other greats included Dorothy Masuka, Oliver Mtukudzi, Mango Groove, Steve Kekana, Stimela, Caiphus Semenya, Margaret Singana, Skwatta Kamp. The Parlotones, Simphiwe Dana and Thandiswa Mazwai are newer signings. Gallo owns one of the greatest collections of South African recordings in history. At one point, it produced 75% of all recordings made in South Africa.

All this great history did not come without controversy. In the early 2000s, the company got embroiled in the Solomon Linda ‘Lion Sleeps Tonight’ case. This case highlighted the exploitation of artists in the early days of the company’s formation. It needs to be remembered that, as one of the oldest labels in the world, many of the parameters that govern the industry today were still not in place when Gallo was formed. People and organisations at the time were figuring it out as they went along.

SAMRO, for example, was only formed 35 years after the formation of Gallo. Copyright laws in the country were enacted in 1910, and South Africa only became a signatory of the Berne Convention in 1928. Those early days of the music business were the Wild West. Many mistakes had to be made to get us to where we are today. This does not, however, excuse unethical and exploitative behaviour.

That being said, all the executives I’ve met from the company have always articulated a sincere desire to help artists. Understanding that true success and industry sustainability rely on artists who can transcend the success of their debut albums. Ultimately, one needs to conduct one’s own due diligence before embarking on any kind of business relationship.

Eric Gallo eventually handed over leadership of the company to his son Peter Gallo. In 1983, CNA and Gallo merged to form CNA Gallo. This company eventually became known as Johnnic Communications. In 2006, Johnnic changed its name to Avusa and announced the creation of Warner Music Gallo Africa. The company was headed by Ivor Haarburger.

In 2012, Avusa was bought for R3 billion by Mvelaphanda Group. This company was eventually delisted and renamed Times Media Group and then Tiso Blackstar. Gallo was eventually bought by Lebashe Investment Group in 2020 for R75 million. A few months later, Black Coffee bought a 20% stake in the company.

As Gallo turns 100, we reflect on a century of music in South Africa. Not only is Gallo an iconic music brand, it has also had a major impact on the preservation of our cultural identity and heritage. Ultimately, it has dictated the trajectory of popular music in South Africa and the world. Eric Gallo was able to identify a gap in the market and fill it with the right artists and management, like the legendary Ivor Haarburger, to deliver what South Africans wanted.

In the process, Gallo became the first label in the country and continent and one of the first in the world. The story of Gallo reminds me of the misquote “build it, and they will come”. When the company was established, there was very little industry infrastructure, but Gallo believed he was doing the right thing. As the company’s story unfolded, the national broadcaster was established, collection societies formed, and copyright laws penned.

In the process, the company has been responsible for community building, heritage preservation, and bringing joy to millions of people. Additionally, they have played a musical ambassadorial role, propelling South African musical culture to international audiences.

In the century since its formation, the music industry has experienced exponential growth and altering consumer trends. The industry of 2026 is unrecognisable from what it was in 1926. Gallo went from sheet music consumption to the birth of Rock ‘n Roll in 1955 to AI music in 2026, and the proliferation and hybridisation of genres. If that is what the first 100 years brought us, it will be interesting to observe what the next century offers. For now, we are grateful merely to celebrate 100 years of Gallo and look forward to what is to come.

As I have articulated before in this series, music is at the core of my being. It is not merely entertainment; it is something that fulfils my soul. Consequently, I won’t listen to music in the background or use it as a filler at parties. I find that very distracting and disrespectful, because I want to be “with the music” and honour the art; I don’t want to be apart from it.

Whether I’m listening to music, making it or performing it, I always feel the need to be true to myself and the creators. That being said, that is how I choose to consume music, and I respect how others choose to do the same. The beauty of art is that it will be received differently by each consumer. Therefore, the art of making, using and consuming cannot be controlled in any way, because it belongs to all of us.

Songs That Made Me, Part V

That does not mean that I don’t think creators should get just compensation and credit for their creations; I just feel that art is an uncontrollable medium. This edition of this series is quite a special one. As I enter my fifth decade, I have embarked on a journey of deeper introspection, reflecting on those things that make me who I am. I, therefore, decided to revisit my musical library to reflect on some of my favourite songs, what they mean to me and how they have formed me. So here we go…

1. Mary Hopkin: Those Were The Days (1968)

I was only born in the late 1970s, but for some reason this song became part of my formative music years. ‘Those Were the Days’ by Mary Hopkin is one of my earliest musical recollections. It was part of my consciousness before I even knew that I loved music. My mother says that, as a toddler, I spent my days in front of the family sound system playing records from my walker. This was one of those songs. I loved the schlager beat, tempo and infectious melody. The song just made me happy as a child.

Mary Hopkin is a Welsh singer who was spotted by the famous model Twiggy when she saw her win the talent competition “Opportunity Knocks”. Twiggy recommended Mary to Paul McCartney, who signed her to Apple Corps. Paul personally mentored the singer and produced her debut Apple single, ‘Those Were the Days’. The song speaks about a person in a tavern reflecting on their glory days as a youth. I guess the song is apt at this point in my life, except I choose to mostly look forward rather than backwards.

The song had its origins in Russia in the 1920s and is based on the Boris Fomin and Konstantin Podrevsky-composed ‘Dorogoi Dlinnoyu’. In 1962, an American composer of Russian descent, Eugene Raskin, wrote English lyrics and copyrighted the song. Sir Paul heard Raskin and his wife perform it at The Blue Angel. Paul got his people to approach Raskin for a demo and got Mary to record it. Her version became an international hit, peaking at No. 2 in the USA and No. 1 in the UK.

2. Wynonna Judd: Testify To Love (1998)

I have always been more of an R&B guy than a Country and Western person. But as I grow older, I have grown to love the genre more. In the 1990s, I was a big fan of a show called “Touched by an Angel”. For the 100th episode of the series, titled “Psalm 151”, the storyline featured Wynonna Judd in the lead role. The story revolves around a dying boy and his list of wishes, including his desire for his mother, Wynonna, to complete a song she started writing.

Meeting Céline Dion is another wish, and the singer also makes an appearance on the episode. In the final scene, Wynonna sings the song that her son encouraged her to complete: ‘Testify To Love’. I sat watching the scene in tears. I was in my final year of university that year, and it was a juncture in my life that brought me back to music. The song has come to mean so much to me.

‘Testify To Love’ was co-written by Henk Pool Jr., Robert T. Riekerk, Ralph Van Manen, and Paul Field and was first recorded by Van Manen in 1996. In 1997, the Gospel group Avalon heard the song and recorded a version, which became their signature tune and was a No. 1 on the Gospel charts. The song’s authors have indicated that the song has always been about inclusivity. On the 100th episode of “Touched by an Angel”, that’s exactly what it did: brought a community together.

3. Céline Dion: Vole (1995)

Celine Dion was featured on the 100th episode of “Touched by an Angel”, featuring a storyline about a boy with a “bucket list” who is battling cystic fibrosis. This is a cause close to the singer’s heart, as her niece, Karine, passed away in her arms in 1993, aged 16, from complications related to the disease. The song ‘Vole’ was dedicated by Céline to her niece. It was written by the iconic French composer Jean-Jacques Goldman for her French-language album D’eux released in 1995.

D’eux became the biggest-selling French album in history, shipping over 10 million units worldwide. The song was later translated into English and featured on Céline’s fourth English-language album Falling Into You, released in 1996. I was initially exposed to the French version of the song and was completely moved by the haunting melody and Céline’s sensitive vocal approach. I did not know what the song was about; I just knew I loved it.

This was one of my first lessons in understanding a song without comprehending its lyrical content. Today, I can listen to any genre, in any language and appreciate its beauty and art. This has actually gotten me into trouble a few times. My beloved CoKo, a miniature dappled dachshund, passed away in 2024, from dementia, aged 14. I was devastated, and the only song I could think of as an outlet for my grief was ‘Vole’.

4. Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars: Die With A Smile

About eight months after CoKo passed away, our other dog, Ciao Main, followed him. It was a traumatic death. She had fallen ill, and on the afternoon of the day she passed, we had taken her to the veterinarian. The doctor had prescribed some medication and told us to keep an eye on her. That night she slept with us, but we were really anxious and didn’t sleep much. At about two o’clock in the morning, I realised she was about to die. She took her last breath on me and departed. We were devastated.

We spent the rest of the moring crying and were largely in disbelief at her untimely passing. She was a Chihuahua and about 13 years old. We were expecting a few more years with her. We had also barely gotten over CoKo’s passing when she left us. The month before Ciao Main passed, August 2024, Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars released the avant-garde ballad, ‘Die With A Smile’. This became the song we chose to mourn Ciao Main’s passing. Bruno Mars started writing the song with James Fauntleroy in 2021, but people were not feeling it and the demos were abandoned.

There seemed to be little likelihood that the song would ever be recorded until the duo heard Gaga was working on songs for a “Harlequin” movie and a new solo album. Thinking the song would be perfect for the movie and even better as a collaboration with Gaga, they eventually pitched it to the singer, and she fell in love. It was eventually released and topped the Billboard Hot 100 for five non-consecutive weeks, becoming the fastest song in history to reach a billion streams on Spotify. I guess many people were moved by the theme of the song.

5. Dolly Parton: Here You Come Again (1977)

Dolly Parton is one of my earliest conscious musical memories. Music has been an integral part of my life for as long as I can remember, and Dolly has been part of that journey from the very beginning. There has always been something effervescent, light and eternal about the Queen of Country. What I love about this song is the way Dolly reclaims the narrative, taking control of the story she tells. For me, it is a song about female empowerment, reminding us that we all have agency in our relationships.

The song speaks about a guy who keeps on coming back into a relationship and bamboozles his partner with lies and fabrications. The partner eventually decides that she doesn’t want to listen anymore and walks away. At the time, this was quite a message of self-empowerment, a better alternative to a traditional breakup song. The song was originally written by Cynthia Weil and Barry Man, one of the few Dolly hits she did not write.

The song was written in 1975 and was originally offered to Brenda Lee. Lee sat on the song for about a year and then decided she didn’t want to record it. It was eventually recorded for the first time by BJ Thomas in 1977. The song came to the attention of Dolly Parton’s producer Gary Klein and was featured as the title track of her 19th studio album. Dolly hoped the song would broaden her appeal and help her reach a wider audience. This is indeed what it did, peaking at No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 1 on the Country singles chart. She would eventually win the Grammy Award for Best Country Vocal Performance, Female.

6. Miley Cyrus: The Climb (2009)

From the godmother to the goddaughter. I was never a fan of Miley as Hannah Montana; I guess I wasn’t the target audience. But the second she went solo, I started paying attention. I like her Punk, anarchistic persona and aesthetic. She’s just doing her own thing. In 2014, one of my Grade 12 students decided she wanted to perform ‘The Climb’ with the school choir for her valedictory service. She formed a band, musically arranged the song and performed it.

As I sat listening to the performance, I was struck by the meaning of education and the cycle we all go through as educators. When I first interacted with this student’s class, they knew very little about music, but as they emerged from under my wings, they probably knew more than me. For me, that is success. The song was originally featured in the 2009 “Hannah Montana: The Movie”. ‘The Climb’ came at a juncture in Miley’s career when she was transitioning from TV star to solo recording artist. But more than that, she was navigating the move from child star to adult recording artist.

The song was written by Jessi Alexander and Jon Mabe and was a reflection of their careers in the Country music industry. Miley was 16 when the song hit the charts, peaking at No. 4 on the Billboard Hot 100, her highest-charting song at the time. ‘The Climb’ helped propel Miley Cyrus into international consciousness, and it has been a song she has subsequently performed at many of her concerts, making it one of her mainstays.

7. Stevie Wonder: Until You Come Back To Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do) (1967)

This song came into my orbit in 2003 through “Pop Idol”. The singer who performed it on the show was one of my heroes, and I decided that even if he didn’t win, I was still going to follow him. It was Will Young, and his version was spectacular. I had never heard the original before, and I made it a point to find it and listen to it. The track was originally co-written by Stevie Wonder and recorded in 1967. The Will Young version was, however, an adaptation of Aretha Franklin’s 1973 rendition.

The song is important to me for various reasons. The year 2003 was a juncture in my career. I had just completed six years of study at university, and I was trying to find my way. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was going to do. This uncertainty was frustrating. When I saw “Pop Idol”, I was inspired to continue on my musical journey. This specific song was performed by someone who dared to push against the matrix and consequently won the first season of the reality talent contest. His chutzpah gave me the drive to be unapologetically me.

Stevie was 15 years old when he wrote the song in 1965 and only recorded it two years later. The single was never released and, therefore, never charted for him. He would only officially release the song in 1977 on his anthology, Looking Back. ‘Until You Come Back To Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do)’ went unreleased for many years, and in 1974 he offered the song to Aretha. It was featured on her 20th studio album, Let Me Into Your Life. The song eventually peaked at No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 1 in the R&B charts. Who would have thought that a 15-year-old would have such amazing insight?

8. Emeli Sandé: Clown (2013)

When I heard this song for the first time, I was touched by the emotion in Emeli Sandé's voice. I’m not a big lyrics guy, but the lyrics in this song, along with the emotive melody, really got me. The song is about rejection and acceptance, and being part of something that one seems to only be observing from the outside. I guess this parallels some of my life experiences and possibly why I attached such significance to the song.

While in a staff meeting at work, I turned to one of my dance colleagues, Deborah Gush, and told her about the song and how it moved me. She told me to send her a link to the song, a request with which I complied. The next thing I knew, she had choreographed the most beautiful dance, performed by her dance class. I was so moved by the performance I cried. The beauty of creativity lies in how we share in art, and when she presented that performance, I finally felt like I was on the inside of something and not looking in.

The song reflects the challenges Emeli faced and the experiences she had as she was trying to make a space for herself in the music business. She juxtaposes her feelings with those of a clown, making the comparison that people didn't take her seriously in those nascent days of her career. The song was featured on her debut album Our Version of Events, which broke the British record for most weeks in the Top 10 for a debut album, taking the record from the Beatles. The song peaked at No. 4 on the British singles chart.

9. Glynis Johns: Send In The Clowns (1973)

This song resonates with me in such an integral way. I have known the song for as long as I can remember, but I never really took note of it, as I’m not a big musical theatre fan. In 2000, I was in music school at Allenby Campus. It was a highly competitive environment. We all wanted to be the best, and sometimes that success could be at the expense of others. That year I was invited to attend one of my friend’s performance examinations. She was a year behind me.

Christine Ludwig and Silver Smoek got on the stage and performed this song. Their performance left a lasting impression on me. The lyrics resonated with me. In circus acts, clowns were usually sent in when something went wrong to distract the audience. In this instance, the metaphor is that something is going wrong in someone’s life, and they are waiting for the clowns to come in to offer some support and relief. The problem is that they are nowhere to be found. Well, that’s my interpretation, and that’s what I took away from the performance.

The song was written by the legendary musical theatre composer Stephen Sondheim in 1973 for the musical “A Little Night Music”. The song was written for Glynis Johns, who originated the role of Desirée Armfeldt in the musical. The song was specifically constructed around her voice and what she could achieve vocally. Therefore, there are many short phrases featuring beautiful melodies. The song has been covered many times, but one of the first versions was recorded by Frank Sinatra. The most famous version is by Judy Collins, who accepted Sondheim’s 1976 Grammy Award for Song of the Year on his behalf.

10. Gene Wilder: Pure Imagination (1971)

This song has almost become an anthem in my life. The lyrics speak about dreaming big dreams and never being dissuaded from dreaming big. This has always been my belief, and these were lessons taught to me by my father and grandfather: anything is possible and probable. The dream might not necessarily manifest in the way you think, but if you truly believe it will manifest. As a young child, there was something that drew me to this intentional ballad.

The song was written in 1971 by Anthony Newley and Lesley Bricusse for the film adaptation of the Roald Dahl novel “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. ‘Pure Imagination’ was written over one phone call in one day and was performed in the movie by the actor Gene Wilder, who portrayed Willy Wonka. The song and movie were originally not successful and only rose to cult status once aired on Television and made available for purchase and rental.

When Gene Wilder passed away in 2016, the song’s downloads increased by 1,000%. Many artists have covered this song. What I find interesting about the original orchestration of ‘Pure Imagination’ is its eerie effects at the beginning of the recording. This intentional production choice gives the listener an unsettling feeling. The audio juxtaposes the lyrical content. Whilst the lyrics communicate a message of endless possibility, the audio reminds one that there may be forces that can disrupt the realisation of those dreams.

The older I get, the more I come to realise that songs will come to you when you need them. Although you may have experienced a song a thousand times, it will only come to mean something to you when it must. Mostly, songs are also a way to navigate emotions, thoughts and motivations. It gives one a non-threatening, objective third vantage point through which to interrogate a moment in time. For me, music is about how it communicates with an audience. For millennia, musicians and composers have been very precious about who can and cannot make music.

To this day, there is a bitter rivalry between the Pop and Classical music worlds. In reality, we have come to a point in time where what matters t is whether the music has moved the audience (the third party in the creative process). If it hasn’t moved the audience, it doesn’t matter how long the composer spent putting the song together or how sophisticated it is; it has failed in its primary mandate. We live in a music reality where a person can create a song from scratch that could potentially take over mass consciousness in the comfort of their room.

In this edition of “Songs That Made Me”, the themes seem to be imagination, clowns and reflection. Ultimately, they are all linked to each other through me. I value the songs I have selected for this article because they were my counsellors when I needed the greatest guidance, and they did not lead me astray. As I continue to evolve as a person, musicologist and musician, songs will continue to come to me, and I will continue to interrogate their importance, ultimately forming who I am.

Songs That Made Me, Part VI was originally published in Rock n’ Heavy on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

On 25 August 2026, I had just gotten home from work and was talking with my family in the dining room when I saw a Facebook notification on my mobile device. It was a Tuesday evening in South Africa, usually one of my busiest days at work, and I was exhausted. I reached over to my device, opened the app and noticed the notification was from one of my former colleagues and friends, Wicus Jordaan.

Wicus and I have an amazing relationship. Although he is from a completely different world to me, he’s a sportsman, and I’m a musician; we have a shared passion for music. The result is that he will often tag me on interesting music posts he discovers. What I didn’t know was what I was about to encounter. I eagerly opened the notification and saw that he had tagged me on someone’s post. I opened it and saw it was a notice relating to the passing of the Queen of Country.

I was so shocked I dropped my phone. I picked it up again to confirm the news, and it was clear: “Dolly Parton Dead at 80”. I needed to verify the authenticity of the claim, so I accessed Google and did a search and discovered it was true; Dolly Parton had indeed passed on. It has been nearly two months since her passing, and I’ve been reflecting on why it has taken me so long to process the loss of someone I did not know.

That Sunday after Dolly’s passing, I was asked to appear on 702, South Africa’s premier talk radio station, to talk about the passing of the icon. Even then I hadn’t quite navigated my grief. In 2004 I experienced a similar reality. A week after meeting the iconic South African struggle musician, Dolly Rathebe, at an art exhibition in Sandton City, I read a billboard announcing, “Dolly is Dead”.

The Best of 702 Weekend Breakfast

I was driving at the time and had to pull my car over because I was so shocked: “Dolly Parton is dead?” Once again, I picked up my mobile device and accessed Google to discover that Dolly Rathebe was the individual who had actually passed away. While I was saddened by the passing of someone I had just met, I was relieved it was not Dolly Parton. At the time, it made me think: what will my reaction be one day when the inevitable happens?

I didn’t want to dwell on it too much, but it made me reflect on what my reaction might be and why. I know it sounds dramatic, but as someone who has studied human behaviour, it is something I am curious about: people’s motivations and reactions. In this instance, why are people moved by the passing of celebrities they have never met or known personally?

Dolly Parton was integral to who I am and remains one of my personal holy grails. I was born in 1976, and as soon as I was conscious and started rummaging through my father’s music collection, I discovered Dolly Parton. My father was a major music lover, but wasn’t really concerned about the history or context in which music is created. His collection was sporadic and contained whatever he felt like listening to. There was no clear trend. Therefore, the collection contained anything from Rock to Country and everything in between.

As a little kid scratching through my father’s collection, I had my first experience of Dolly, which was weird, as I was drawn more to R&B than Country. I just remember finding a cassette with the image of a beautiful blonde and wondering what was on the record. The record was New Harvest…First Gathering, originally released in 1977 and served as Dolly’s 18th studio album. By the time I discovered Dolly, she was a well-established artist.

The first ever track I heard from New Harvest…First Gathering, and my first ever Dolly track, was ‘Light of a Clear Blue Morning’, and I loved it. I consumed the record from first song to last and loved every minute. This album was also significant as it was Dolly’s first self-produced album. The next Dolly album I found in my father’s collection was The Love Album. This compilation, released in 1983, exposed me to ‘I Will Always Love You’, ‘Jolene’ and ‘Coat of Many Colours’. I was hooked. I didn’t know who she was, but I loved the music, the glitz and the glamour.

At the same time, Dolly and Kenny Rogers released probably one of the most recognisable songs of 1983. The Bee Gees penned ‘Islands In The Stream’, which was a No. 1 hit for the duo on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 7 in the UK. The single, with over 5 million sales worldwide, became the biggest-selling single of 1984 and is one of my all-time favourite songs. This led to the duo collaborating on the David Foster-produced album, released in 1984, Once Upon A Christmas. This album generated the single ‘Christmas Without You’.

I remember watching the music video of the song every Christmas season with my brother. We loved it, and although we had different music tastes, this was one of those special musical moments we shared. The music video, which is set in a military servicemen's bar, made me cry every year and gave me goosebumps. The video was actually a scene from the Dolly and Kenny television special titled “Kenny and Dolly: A Christmas To Remember”.

I, therefore, assume by the above timelines that I was exposed to Dolly in around 1983, which would have made me 7 years old. In 1987, a slimmer and trimmer Dolly hosted a variety television series titled “Dolly”. The series was a sequel to the 1976 television series with the same name. This was my first “live” encounter with the singer, and I loved everything about the show. I had never seen a variety show before, and I loved the combination of comedy sketches, interviews and music.

She ended every episode with ‘I Will Always Love You’. It made me teary every time. I was about 11 years old at the time. I grew fonder of the singer with every episode. I loved her effervescent personality, irreverence and kindness. She was the person I wanted to be one day when I grew up. I then discovered she was an actress and made it a point to watch as many of her movies as I could. The first was “Steel Magnolias” (1989), then “Straight Talk” (1992) and “9 to 5” (1980).

I remember an occasion when I was shopping with my mother at Makro (similar to Walmart). I was deep into collecting music at the time, and asked my mother if I could dig through the bargain bin. I was diligently sifting through albums when my mother said, “Would you like this one?” My mother is not a music lover and knows little about music, but she knew I loved Dolly Parton, and the album she was holding was Eagle When She Flies. This was Dolly’s 31st studio album and was released in 1991. I loved every song on the record, but especially ‘Family’, the second-to-last track, which I memorised and performed at school.

As I’ve said, I was actually a Soul and R&B kid, so I don’t know what drew me to Dolly Parton. All I know is I loved her. Ironically, years later I discovered that many R&B fans also shared a common fascination with the Queen of Country. In 1992, when one of my all-time heroes covered ‘I Will Always Love You’, I already knew the song pretty well. While I love the Whitney Houston version, the Dolly version is still my favourite.

This was followed by one of my all-time favourite Dolly Parton songs, ‘The Day I Fell In Love’. It was written by Carole Bayer Sager, James Ingram and Clif Magness and produced by David Foster. The song was a duet with Ingram and featured as the theme song for the movie “Beethoven’s 2nd”. It is one of those songs that has carried me through many sad moments. In my opinion, although it is not one of her most commercially successful songs, it is one of her most effective songs. The combination of Ingram’s smooth Soul voice and Dolly’s Country twang, added to Foster’s beautiful orchestration and arrangement is pure magic.

In 1996, as a South African Dolly Parton fan, her star orbit finally collided with my world when she invited one of our most iconic acts to collaborate with her. The ensemble was Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the album was her 34th, Treasures, and the song was a cover of ‘Peace Train’ by Cat Stevens. The blend of Country and Western Music and Isicathamiya (a traditional South African genre) was a match made in heaven. A year later, Dolly returned the favour by appearing on Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s album Heavenly, on a Bob Dylan cover of ‘Knocking on Heaven’s Door’.

Four decades into her career, Dolly experienced a slump. In 1998, the record label she was signed to, Rising Tide, was shut down by its parent, Universal, and the singer moved to Decca. This triggered a revisitation of her musical roots, culminating in the writing of her 35th studio album Hungry Again at her lake cottage. Although not one of her most commercially successful albums, it ushered in one of her most critically acclaimed eras: the Bluegrass Era.

In 1999, Decca, part of MCA Nashville, closed its doors when Universal Music Group merged with Polygram. The label clearly did not see the value of signing an artist who no longer pulled the numbers she once did. She was, therefore, not picked up by MCA. In the interim, Asylum Records ironically released Trio II with Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris in 1999, which was a critical and commercial success, winning the 2000 Best Country Collaboration Grammy Award.

At this lowest point of her career, she was as busy as she had ever been. She released the Gospel-themed Precious Memories (her 36th studio album), only available at Dollywood, through her personal label Blue Eye Records. Simultaneously, she was working on three television movies, was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame and signed a deal with the independent label Sugar Hill Records through Blue Eye Records.

This was the beginning of her Bluegrass Era, which consisted of three albums, The Grass Is Blue (1999), Little Sparrow (2001) and Halos and Horns (2002). In 2001, she won the Grammy Award for Best Bluegrass Album for The Grass Is Blue, and in 2002, Best Female Country Vocal Performance. Three Grammy wins in three years. She was additionally honoured by the British Country Music Association and the Bluegrass Music Association. Watching this from the sidelines, I was inspired by the fact that there is no such thing as being down and out. If one truly commits to one’s art and does the work, one will reap the fruits of one’s harvest.

One of my favourite songs from Dolly’s later catalogue actually comes from her 40th studio album Backwoods Barbie (2008). The song is titled ‘Jesus and Gravity’ and was written by Betsy Ulmer and Craig Wiseman. The song is just a reflection of her evolution in her career and a reaffirmation of her faith. What I came to love about her later albums were her amazing cover versions, like ‘Stairway To Heaven’ from her 39th studio album Halos and Horns (2002).

This success was the springboard that launched the latter part of her career, which saw her experience some of her greatest career heights. In this era, as a confident and successful star, she released her projects independently and collaborated with some of the biggest stars in the industry, whilst also exploring other business and philanthropic ventures.

At this time, in my career, I had graduated from music school and had become a music history lecturer. When designing the course I taught, I added Dolly Parton to the curriculum as I felt the trajectory of her career was something budding musicians needed to know. Her career offered lessons in everything from standing firm when the King of Rock ’n’ Roll came calling to navigating a downturn and celebrating success with grace. Ultimately, hard work, diversification and differentiation are the keys to longevity in a creative career.

Dolly Parton vs The King

For the next two decades, Dolly continued to release albums and collaborate with many iconic musicians. Some of these collaborations included additions to albums and tracks by Beyoncé Knowles, Norah Jones, Ke$ha, Miley Cyrus, and Rod Stewart. Additionally, she worked with Brad Paisley, Martina McBride, Jewel, The Pentatonix, Reba McEntire, Pitbull, Post Malone and Sabrina Carpenter. She never stopped for one second.

Funnily, one of my favourite songs from this era, was actually vintage Dolly: ‘Here You Come Again’ (1977). The song was the lead single from Dolly’s similarly titled 19th studio album and was written by Cynthia Weill and Barry Mann. What I love about this song is its empowering lyrics, where the scorned lover reappropriates the narrative: “Here You Come Again, And Here I Go…”.

In 2022, it was announced that Dolly would be inducted into the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. She initially requested that the association withdraw her nomination, stating she was not a Rock ‘n Roll artist. I found this to be an honourable move, especially in an industry where artists will accept any kind of recognition, even misplaced recognition. After being alerted to the fact that Rock ‘n Roll encompasses anything within the Popular music paradigm, she articulated that she would humbly accept the award. She did, however, assure audiences she would return with a Rock ‘n Roll album.

A year later, she made good on her promise when she released the Rockstar (her 49th studio album). The album contained collaborations with the A-list of the Rock world, including Peter Frampton, Sir Paul McCartney, Joan Jett, Sir Elton John, Richie Sambora, Steven Tyler, Steve Perry and Sting, to name a few. The album proved Dolly still “had it” seven decades into her career, possibly more so than at the height of her success as she was now universally acclaimed.

The album turned out to be her highest charting on the Billboard 200, peaking at No. 3 on the chart and No. 5 in the UK. In the latter part of her career, she became the music industry’s oracle and elder statesperson. As a result, organisations from around the world clamoured to either get her endorsement or honour her great achievements. One leader who seemingly wanted to leverage the singer’s good name and reputation to improve his approval ratings was President Donald Trump.

In the president’s first term, which commenced in 2017, Dolly Parton was offered the Presidential Medal of Freedom twice. Parton rejected the first offer, citing her husband’s ill health and need to prioritise his care. The second time, she cited an inability to travel during the COVID crisis of 2020.

During President Biden’s administration, Parton was offered the commendation a third time. She once again declined the offer, stating she was an entertainer and had no desire to get embroiled in politics. Her actions only made her more popular and beloved by people around the world. This was further proof that integrity was more important to her than a commendation, even if it was the highest civilian honour her country could issue.

Other than being a successful recording artist and actress, Dolly was also a highly accomplished businesswoman and philanthropist. In 1995, in memory of her illiterate father, she founded a programme that would promote literacy in Sevier County, Tennessee, where she was born. The result was the establishment of the Imagination Library.

The Dolly Parton Imagination Library

The concept behind the library was to post a book a month to every child in Sevier from birth until the age of five. What started as a small regional operation is now an international project that has distributed over 330 million books to children in five countries and growing. I was inspired by the fact that a star of her calibre would be so invested in using her influence and reach to help others.

Ten years earlier, she bought shares in a theme park that had started its life in 1960 as “Rebel Railroad”. Over the years, it went through various incarnations, and in 1986, Dolly became a partner in the park with Herschend Family Enterprises. It was then known as Silver Dollar City, and was later renamed “Dollywood”.

Today, the park is the largest employer in the region, contributing more than $1.8 billion to the local economy and attracting over 3 million visitors annually. The Dolly themed park includes merchandise shops, rides, a radio station that plays Dolly Parton music and various theatres. Today it has expanded to include a water park and resorts, set on over 150 acres.

Dolly Parton was never one to rest on her laurels. In 2009, she wrote the music for her first of two musicals, “9 to 5”, which was nominated for four Tony Awards. This was followed by a self-penned and composed musical, which premiered in 2025 in Nashville under the title “Dolly: A True Original Musical”. As the decades progressed, the activities multiplied, and it was astounding to watch an artist of her calibre continue to deliver at the highest level.

There was the relentless touring, the musicals, television specials, series, albums, business ventures, expansion of Dollywood and musical collaborations. Every other year there was something new on the Dolly horizon. After her passing, it was announced that Dolly had left a blueprint for the continuation of her career decades into the future. These included books, music, products, experiences and campaigns. In June, two months before her passing, she launched Dolly’s Tennessean Truck Stop, with the intention of expanding the brand.

In September, a month after her passing, plans were announced to open the SongTeller Hotel and the Life of Many Colours Museum. Considering the pace at which Dolly was going, it came as a big surprise when I opened my Instagram in May to see a video posted by the Queen of Country. I became emotional seeing Dolly’s optimistic post, thinking about how even in her darkest hour she was trying to comfort her fans. Her message was about light at the end of the tunnel and how everything was going to be ok.

I chose to believe her because she continued to work and deliver new products and services. Also, I didn’t want to believe she would ever leave us. She was such a force for goodness and positivity in the world; how could she ever leave? It was not possible for me to conceive that someone who was so productive, full of life and energy, could be fading away. Although she was 80, this was something that was not conceivable to me.

Dolly Parton’s seven-decade career is a testament to hard work, discipline, commitment to the art and perseverance. Even in her darkest moments, she did not allow her circumstances to dictate the trajectory of her career. She could have easily allowed her impoverished background to dictate her lot in life, yet she allowed herself to dream and aspire to greatness. Furthermore, not only was she exceptionally talented, but she was also charismatic, diplomatic, considerate and graceful. She never wanted to make anyone feel left out or less.

She went out of her way to try and help as many people as she could and even made space for her family in her various businesses. She was the ultimate example of how to lead a sustainable career in the industry. With many fingers in many and varied pies, all her contributions to various industries ultimately contributed to her legendary status.

Dolly had strength of conviction and was willing to fight the good fight, even when Elvis Presley came calling. Furthermore, she knew which battles to fight, whilst also understanding that not every battle needs to be fought. She consistently reinvented herself and aligned her brand with the right people, ensuring her longevity. But more than that, she was a philanthropist and someone who cared about people. She was cognisant of the fact that not everyone has access to the same opportunities.

Although I did not know Dolly Parton personally, her loss made a massive impression on me. The death of an icon is like the death of a moment in time. The death of innocence, the memories one made, or the death of an era associated with a loved one. We project our feelings and emotions onto the music we love. They are the carriers of feelings we can sometimes not quantify, because it’s easier to project those emotions onto something than to internalise them. By proxy, the artists that create those sounds and songs become associated with those emotions, as they are the carriers of the medium.

For me, not only as a music lover, but as a music scholar and musician, Dolly was more than just a carrier of music; she was an example. She was an example of how one’s imagination is one’s only limitation. Dolly also showed us that commitment, perseverance, discipline and grace are essential tools for building a career and that one doesn’t need to be mean to be successful. Love is the answer, and anything can be achieved with respect and light. Now that her candle has been snuffed out and her harvest has been reaped, we look forward to the Queen of Country’s legacy. May she be remembered for generations to come as a light of a clear blue morning.

The creative process and the mechanics behind creation fascinate me. The reality is that there are many variables that play a role in the realisation of creative output. This spans creatives, audiences, legal, management people behind the scenes, property owners, individuals from hospitality, sales and marketing. This list is by no means exhaustive, but merely an illustration of the scope of creativity.

At the centre of all of this is the creation. But in order to stimulate creators to generate optimal output, they need to be exposed to an enabling environment that will allow them to create. The ingredients that stimulate creativity are intangible, but without them the process is stifled, resulting in an absurd end product. Therefore, the interplay between creatives and the creative sector needs to be carefully managed and navigated to ensure ultimate creativity.

Creative Communities V: Laurel Canyon

The latter was the ultimate inspiration behind this series. The five previous articles have delved into different environments that have been so creatively enriched that they have resulted in the birth of many great hits. I have researched the Brill Building, Laurel Canyon, Motown, Denmark Street and Tin Pan Alley. From each one of these spaces have emanated some of the biggest hits of all time. All of the iconic locations highlighted have been creator-friendly spaces that have attracted musicians and creators from around the world.

The result has been the establishment of creative hubs. In these spaces, creatives have felt free to share in their creative process, which has triggered creativity and resulted in amazing music and collaborations. The resultant success has attracted industry into these places, which assisted in the monetisation of creative outputs. Ultimately, these spaces became creative ecosystems that grew a life of their own. The one highlighted in this article is located in Sweden and is known as Cheiron Studios.

It all started with Denniz Pop (real name Dag Krister Volle) in the 1990s. He began his career as a DJ in the 1980s and was interested in Popular culture, trends and what worked in the clubs. In 1986, noticing a gap for music for the dance floor, he started a collective called SweMix with five DJs at a nightclub called The Ritz, with the mission of creating remixes. The DJs were Denniz Pop, Sten Hallström (Stonebridge), René Hedemyr (JackMaster), Emil Hellman (SoundFsctory) and Robert Broman (Mopz Below).

With an ear finely tuned into Parliament/Funkadelic, he remixed many songs for rising stars. The remixes the collective created were so good they sounded like new songs. The result was that they became one of the most in-demand remixers in the world. One of Denniz Pop’s first hits was “Hello Afrika” for Dr Alban in 1989. This was followed by a European No. 1, Denniz’s first, “It’s My Life” by Dr Alban. This was followed by the discovery of an unknown Swedish act called Ace of Base. Denniz produced various songs for the band and helped bring them to international stardom.

Pop’s Stonebridge Remix of “Show Me Love” for Robin S in 1992 was another massive hit. By this stage, Denniz was moving away from remixing towards production and composition, which was more aligned to his main objectives. Denniz had attained a massive following and a high level of success. Knowing about the Swedish public’s distaste for people who boast about their success, Denniz was becoming increasingly embarrassed by his success, wealth and visibility.

In Sweden there is a social norm known as the Law of Jante, which discourages people from standing out from each other, boasting about their success and public displays of wealth and opulence. ABBA, for example, were not played on Swedish radio at the height of their fame because of their wealth and gaudy style. Swedish producers believe a lack of ego can lead to a more pleasant sound. In the midst of Pop’s success, he wanted to find a place where he could safely explore this desire.

In 1992, off the success of some of his hit records and with the financial backing of Tom Talomaa, owner of the Ritz, he started Cheiron Studios. SweMix continued to operate as a production entity creating remixes for different clients, but eventually shut down. At Cheiron, Denniz tried to establish a creative community that operated democratically. Realistically, however, all the producers and songwriters yielded to Denniz’s creative vision and scientific approach to music creation.

There was a very specific formula that was applied in the creation of songs at Cheiron, leading to a signature sound. Songs were generally written over simplistic melodies, reminiscent of herding calls, the basis of Swedish Folk songs. Additional strategies included a “B hook” every third chorus, a concept borrowed from ABBA songs. Furthermore, there should be a breakdown at the end of every second chorus. Lastly, Denniz believed a song should sound as good on the radio as it did in a club. Therefore, before releasing final cuts of songs, they were sent to the USA where they were played on car stereos.

The producers and songwriters at Cheiron would frequently share their ideas and concepts, moderating each other’s work so it adhered to Denniz’s signature sound. Backing vocals on most tracks were supplied by Jeanette von der Berge, the Cheiron Studios office manager. The family was initially small and intimate, but slowly started to grow as the success of the label evolved.

Denniz wanted to be ahead of the Pop trends in the USA and, therefore, needed to appeal to an American teenage audience, at the time the biggest in the world. He, consequently, incorporated elements of Pop, Funk, R&B, Hip-Hop and Swedish Folk tunes in his music to create something that would appeal to his target market. At the same time, South African record executive and founder of Zomba/Jive, Clive Calder, picked up on the unique sound being created at Cheiron. Acts like Ace of Base and Robyn were breaking on the international market, and he wanted a piece of the action.

Clive started sending his artists to Sweden to work with the producers at Cheiron. These acts included Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and Britney Spears, who ended up ushering in a Teen Pop revolution that dominated the music scene in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The latter acts shipped more than 300 million records combined worldwide, making them probably the biggest three acts of the era.

As a creative hub, the studios attracted some of the best up-and-coming songwriters and producers, mostly from Sweden. These included: Herbie Chrichlow, Kristian Lundin, Andreas Carlsson, Rami, Jörgen Elofsson, Per Magnusson and David Kreuger, amongst others. These creatives became massive contributors to the Pop music scene and dictated trends for nearly a decade. But the biggest talent to come from the label was probably Max Martin.

Karl Martin Sandberg (Max Martin) was born in Sweden in 1971. He played in various bands at school and eventually dropped out of school to pursue a career in music. His heavy metal band was eventually signed to Cheiron Studios, but the company didn’t know what to do with them. Denniz signed Karl to work at the studios in 1993, and for the next two years he learnt how to produce records and worked on various recordings. The studio’s founder eventually changed Karl’s name to Max Martin. His main songwriting partner at Cheiron was Rami, and together they wrote various hits.

Five years into operations at Cheiron, and in the same month as the release of 5ive’s British Top 10 single “Slam Dunk (Da Funk)” in 1997, Denniz Pop was diagnosed with throat cancer. Max Martin, Denniz’s protégé, took the news badly and started getting anxiety attacks. He was busy working with an up-and-coming US female artist at the time, Britney Spears. Morale at Cheiron dipped, which hampered productivity. Denniz eventually passed away in August 1998, leaving Max Martin as his successor.

Max Martin continued to promote Denniz’s legacy and philosophy of taking a chance on young songwriters and presenting them with opportunities to explore their creativity. No matter how hard he tried, the spirit at Cheiron was never the same after the passing of Denniz. Many of the songwriters eventually left the studio and pursued solo ventures. Furthermore, a joint production and publishing agreement signed between Cheiron and the Zomba Group in 1996 terminated in 2000. These factors resulted in the closure of Cheiron Studios in 2000.

In the eight years between 1992 and 2000, the Cheiron team had an indisputable impact on the Pop music industry. They produced 3 US and 7 UK No. 1 hits, 16 US and 34 UK Top 10s, 19 US and 40 UK Top 20s and 25 US and 42 UK Top 40 hits. These songs shipped more than 70 million units worldwide. This excludes the sales of their smaller hits.

Some of the biggest hits generated at the studios include “The Sign” by Ace of Base (1994) (US No. 1/UK No. 2), Céline Dion’s “That’s the Way It Is” (1999) (No. 6 USA/No12 UK) and Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” (No. 6 USA/ No. 1 UK) (1999). Other hits include “It’s Gonna Be Me” (2000) by *NSYNC (No. 1 USA/No. 9 UK), and Westlife’s “Fool Again” (2000) (No. 1 UK). Their biggest hit was “…Baby One More Time” (1999) by Britney Spears (No. 1 USA/UK), which shipped over 10 million units worldwide.

After leaving Cheiron, many of the staff started their own studios or started working for themselves, becoming independently successful. Collectively, they have produced/written some of the most recognisable songs in Popular music history for some of the most significant artists. Interestingly, the networks formed at Cheiron Studios endured, with many of these creatives collaborating with each other to this day.

Some of the artists for whom these amazing producers have written/produced include Will Young, Il Divo, Leona Lewis, and Katherine Jenkins. Additionally, they have worked with the likes of Cyndi Lauper, Katy Perry, LeAnn Rimes, Bon Jovi, P!nk, Madonna, Post Malone, and Charli XCX. Some of the biggest hits they have created include: “Evergreen” by Will Young (No. 1 UK, 2002), “That’s My Goal” by Shayne Ward (No. 1 UK, 2005), “Rain On Me” by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga (No. 1 USA/UK, 2020) and Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You)” (No. 1 USA, 2011).

By far the most successful Cheiron alumnus is Max Martin. After leaving Cheiron, he, along with Tom Talomaa, created Maratone Productions. He has to date written and produced at least 30 No. 1 hits on the Billboard Hot 100, along with over 120 Top 40 hits. This makes him the second most successful songwriter in US history, after Sir Paul McCartney, who has achieved 32 No. 1s.

Martin has actively collaborated with many of his former colleagues from Cheiron, especially Rami. He has written extensively for Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, The Weeknd, Justin Timberlake and Katy Perry. Some of the hits from his stable include “Yes, And?” By Ariana Grande (2024), “Fate of Ophelia” by Taylor Swift (2026), and “Can’t Stop The Feeling” by Justin Timberlake (2016). The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” (2019) and Katy Perry’s “ET” featuring Kanye West (2011) were also written and/or produced by the legend. In total, Max Martin’s Top 120 singles have shipped over 600 million units worldwide.

Although the process of creating can sometimes be lonely, the art of innovation is collaborative. One often needs the input from others to take one’s creations to the next level. Like the other creative communities I have interrogated in this series, the Cheiron ecosystem was governed by the vision of one person, in this case Denniz Pop. What I particularly like about the Cheiron Studios model is that in this creative community people worked collaboratively in many different iterations. It goes to show that if creatives are left to create at their leisure, they will innovate and produce output that can change the world.

In the process and spirit of collaboration, the songwriters and producers at Cheiron created works that dictated the sound of an era and influenced popular culture. Cheiron Studios was responsible for some of the most influential Pop artists and hits of the late 1990s and early 2000s. After leaving the studios, the songwriters and producers continued to make their presence felt in the music world, creating some of the most beloved songs in history.

Max Martin in particular has spearheaded a music revolution that has now spanned nearly four decades. As a collective, the works created by the Cheiron songwriters and producers have shipped nearly 1 billion records worldwide. This reinforces the concept of collaborative creativity and the power of creative communities.

A few weeks ago I was listening to my favourite podcast, “Smartless”, with Will Arnett, Justin Bateman and Sean Hayes, and the person being interviewed was the legendary Paul Simon. In the interview, the iconic musician said something that resonated with what I have always thought: “the listener completes the song”. For me, the essence of creation is that the audience is an essential component of the creative process. Although they may not be in the room when the music is conceived, they are the ultimate consumers of art, and will do with it whatever they want when it manifests.

This triggered my thinking not only about the art of creating a song, but also the art of letting it go once it’s conceived. In my process as a composer, I have never believed in dragging the composition phase out for too long. Either the song comes to me, or it doesn’t. If it’s not coming, then it was not meant to be. This stems from my belief that, as creators, we are all intermediaries who are part of a larger creative force field. The songs that are meant to come to us will. Michelangelo even spoke about this greater power and access to art.

The Art of...Live Performance - Landmark Moments in Music History

What I find fascinating about creating music is how many creators simultaneously come up with the same musical concepts in completely different parts of the world. Music is in essence an extension of what has come before. There is nothing that is truly original. Creators are influenced by what they hear and what they perform. These concepts and influences will naturally be embedded in the music they create. Therefore, if someone has been integrally influenced by someone like Prince, then naturally their sounds and musical concepts will be an extension of that influence.

This brings me to the concept of AI and the rumblings in the industry about how it will disrupt the business. AI is just doing what humans already do: take concepts that exist and use them to create new ideas. That being said, the difference is AI is actually using already existing recordings, that are being fed into their matrices, to create new songs, which is highly unethical. The premise of what AI is doing is what creators have been doing for millennia.

The shortcoming of AI is that it will not be able to come up with the new trend or concept that will sweep the industry. The technology can only use what it has been fed to create something new, and not innovate. Innovation is something that is human and difficult for machines to replicate. AI is not magic; it is merely approximations, averages and calculations. Anyone who is an artist understands that the essence of creation is mistakes, impulse, spontaneity and imperfections, which cannot be synthesised.

But back to creating a song, especially a Pop song. The beauty of a Pop song is being able to convey an entire story in about three minutes, and now in the era of TikTok, even less than that. I always find it amazing that songwriters are able to communicate an entire narrative in a short period of time. An author can take 300 pages to relate a story, but Pop music composers have to communicate that narrative in 3 minutes or less. It even becomes more impressive when a composer/songwriter is creating a song as a theme for a movie, television series, corporate entity or sporting event. Being able to distil a nuanced narrative in a short period of time is a true gift.

This type of storytelling became evident in the 1960s with the popularisation of Folk music, which conveyed the stories of the injustices being perpetrated in the world. The Progressive Rock movement in the late 1960s and 1970s took this narrative storytelling to the next level, but sometimes in longer formats, e.g. 6–10 minute songs. The art of telling a full narrative in such a short period of time is the use of symbolism and layered messaging. Not all the points can be covered in such a short period, but by using symbolism, a fuller narrative can be conveyed. In this way, a songwriter can tell various stories using one narrative.

It is through this symbolism that multiple realities and iterations of a song come to exist. The reason for this is that people will interpret the message in different ways depending on their reality and setting. In one country or culture, a symbol will mean one thing, and in another culture it can mean something completely different. Additionally, people may be filtering messages in a particular way in their lives at the time they are exposed to a song, which means those symbols will ring differently for them. It is all very circumstantial.

As Berry Gordy said, “Keep It Simple, Stupid”. Songs need to be written in a way that any audience, in any part of the world, can understand. In order to achieve this outcome, songs need to be kept harmonically and lyrically simple and contain interesting progressions that will keep the audience engaged. Additionally, the composer needs to paint with all the colours of the audio spectrum, ensuring a balance between the different frequencies.

Bass, treble, mid-frequencies and everything in between should be represented in a piece of music. Furthermore, composers need to consider silence, tempo and dynamics when creating music. A song will ask for certain things, and those need to be considered in the process of composition; ultimately, all these elements contribute to the whole. It’s like Yin and Yang, light and shade. They need to be represented in a balanced manner in order to complete a piece of music.

Mostly, the composer and songwriter need to entertain the audience and be honest in their composition. If the writer is trying to show off, the audience may not get it and will disengage. Ultimately, the majority of Pop music audiences are not formally musically trained. They, therefore, won’t always understand the sophisticated musical elements with which musicians engage. That is the challenge for Pop music composers. Classical music audiences, on the other hand, are mostly musically literate, giving composers the agency to explore more musically sophisticated concepts.

In the process of composition and songwriting, the composer needs to consider who will bring their work to life: the producer. The reality is that the composer may not always have control over this process, as some composers don’t perform the songs they write. In these instances, they will license their music to artists or record labels who will select a producer who will record the songs.

The producer will make arrangement and composition choices that will bring a composer’s music to life. That is a different part of the creative process, which I may write about in the future. Brilliant production is what turns a song from a unidimensional creation to a multidimensional piece of audio art. This becomes abundantly clear when one hears a cover version or a song that was a hit for one person and a flop for another.

The artist and musicians’ interpretation of a piece of music will also make a massive difference in the final product. But this is all part of the recording process and falls outside of the songwriting process. Once the songwriter has completed their composition, they need to allow the song to have its own life outside of their grasp. It’s like a parent when they let their teenagers go to college, and their children start forming their own identity and adult life. It’s difficult, but at this point, all the time a parent has invested in their children should pay off in the formation of a functional adult. This is something with which teachers often engage. They want to use their sophisticated worlds and phraseology in a class with their students, but if they allow themselves to go there, they will lose their audience, the students.

Music is a critical vessel that transmits culture from one generation to the next. Music, culture and the arts are integrally linked. Another element that is important in writing and composing music is cultural identity; people want to see themselves in the art they consume. Audiences want to see the streets, village, suburb, mall and people they know in the music they hear. I have often found that audiences buy into what I’m trying to communicate to them when I contextualise my message in a manner with which they can identify.

We need to celebrate ourselves, our culture, and be proud of what we represent. When that happens, other people want to join the party. That is how any major creative economy has evolved. I’m finding this more and more in South African music output. We are celebrating our “South Africaness” more, and the world is coming to the party, attracting massive investment into our music economy. Music is an extension of our culture and community, and as a result it needs to be a prominent feature in the art we create.

Finally, songs and music are time capsules. They are a snapshot of what was happening in an era in our society. Just like in ancient times, music was used to transmit history by word of mouth from one generation to the next. That was the principle that drove Folk songs in Europe during the medieval times, and the Griots in North Africa. Not much has changed in the interim. If a person wants to know what was happening in a community at any given time, they should listen to the music from that era.

One will start noticing a trend in tempos, harmonic structures, instrumentation, melodic construction and rhythms. The music not only reflects the historical happenings of the era, but also the technological advancements. With the rise of Psychedelic music in the late 1960s, one can hear the turmoil of the Vietnam War in the music, with producers utilising emerging technologies to enhance that mood.

Multi-track recording and innovations such as “The Wall of Sound” created by Phil Spector were used very effectively to highlight the chaos in the world at the time. It is all there for one to hear. The same is true about music post-World War II. The arrangements are sparser, the instrumentation more minimalistic, and tempos slower. This indicates a time after the war when audiences wanted to listen to music that was predictable and would not challenge their moods. A time of reflection, which required songs with slower tempos and minimalistic instrumentation.

This is far different from the music that was being produced during the Second World War, which contained more erratic phrasing, fuller arrangements and faster tempos. These compositional elements were utilised almost as a reference to the times in which the music was created. Songs mean so much to us because they are receptacles of our memories and emotions, serving as a time capsule that can easily transport us to a specific time and place.

These emotions and memories are being made, sometimes, in the most formative years of our lives. For this reason, and because of how closely music is linked to identity formation, there is a close link between the songs that form us and ourselves. They are almost inseparable. That is why, once a composer creates a piece of music, they need to allow it to grow wings and fly away. Once the song has been recorded and is out in the public domain, it no longer belongs to the composer; it belongs to the world.

The whole process of creating a song is like the metamorphosis of a butterfly. The song is conceived in a very intimate space, sometimes between the composer, a piece of paper and an instrument. Once it is born, the composer needs to release their creation to a producer and an artist (if not themselves), who will add a recording dimension to the creation. All of this creation needs to consider the audience. Once the song has been recorded, the composer needs to release the song once more, this time to the audience. The audience will attach their own significance to the song.

Songs are carriers of memories, emotions, culture, history and stories. It is the way we preserve our civilisation, and for that reason they need to be accessible to the audience. The audience needs to see themselves in the music, and for that reason the music needs to be accessible to the audience and not out of their reach. Songs outlast generations and speak a truly universal tongue that is intercultural and intergenerational.

No matter how much we control a piece of music, we cannot control how it is received and consumed. The audience will attribute to the song new meanings, memories and associations. There is nothing that the composer can do about that. Ultimately, this is the beauty of creation: whatever an artist creates will exist in different forms depending on the person receiving it. This, therefore, means that a song will manifest in many different ways for various people, and they may not even consider the origins of the original. The art of creating a song, therefore, also requires a level of separation by the author from their creation so that it is allowed to grow and form its own identity.

The Art of…The Song was originally published in Rock n’ Heavy on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

When I conceptualised this series in 2019 my intention was to bring attention to some of my favourite South African compositions. Songs that encapsulate South African music greatness and that could compete with some of the greatest songs written in music history. I truly believe that we have some of the most talented musicians in the world and their creative output is a representation of that immense talent. The problem is that we sometimes don’t see that greatness and rather differ our adoration to foreign talent instead of celebrating our own.

In recent years we have seen South Africans shine, even brighter, on the international stage and influence African and worldwide music trends. This reinforces my original motivation for starting this series. But celebrating some of these compositions is not merely a celebration of the composers that wrote the songs. It is also a celebration of the producers, session musicians and recording artists who helped bring these songs to life.

South African Popular Music Masterpieces IV

Furthermore, a celebration of South Africa’s greatest Popular Music Masterpieces is also a celebration of South African culture in all its permutations. Being asked to judge the South African Music Awards and the SAMRO Music Creation Fund in the last five years has afforded me the opportunity to immerse myself more intimately in South African music. It has given me a whole new appreciation for the music and nuanced understanding of South African music making cultures. Whilst I still don’t know everything about South African music, it has enhanced my musical palette. Without further ado, here are my latest South African Popular Music Masterpieces.

1. Abdullah Ibrahim: Mannenberg (1974)

Dollar Brand aka Abdullah Ibrahim wrote this instrumental composition in the midst of the forced removals of people of colour from District Six to Manenberg in the Cape Flats. These evacuations occurred at the height of the Apartheid regime and whilst the song doesn’t seem to be political in nature, it was marinated in the struggle. For this reason the 13 minute song became an anthem for the struggle in South Africa in the 1970s. South African protest music culture differs greatly from traditions formulated worldwide. Protest songs generally contain minimal instrumentation, simple harmonic structures, slow tempos and very intentional lyrical content.

The latter formula would have never worked in South Africa because censorship boards would have flagged and blocked their releases. Composers, therefore, needed to follow a different approach. The result is a tradition of celebratory protest songs. “Mannenberg” became the biggest selling Jazz song in South Africa between 1974 and 1975, utilising an informal distribution network. Abdullah composed the song in a break between recordings in a studio, whilst improvising on an old upright piano. The piano had tacks on the hammers, giving it a harpsichord sound. This break in recording resulted in one of South Africa’s greatest recordings.

2. Nancy Jacobs and Her Sisters: Meadowlands (1956)

The forced removals of people from District 6 to the Cape Flats took place in 1968. Thirteen years earlier, at the start of the Apartheid regime in 1955, however, many people were forcibly removed from Sophiatown in Johannesburg to Soweto. Strike Vilakzi wrote the song at this time and released it in 1956. The song follows the usual South African protest song formula of the time, including a jovial mood, uptempo beat, and intentionally ambiguous lyrics.

The song speaks about the joy of the residents of Sophiatown being relocated to Meadowlands, a suburb of Soweto. This ambiguity allowed the song to slip through the tentacles of the censors at the SABC, becoming an anthem of protest in the process. “Meadowlands” was first recorded by Nancy Jacobs and her Sisters. Her sisters were actually her mother and a cousin. Although the trio was really popular, Nancy Jacobs eventually married and withdrew from public life. Strike was not only a musician, but he was also an A&R person and music producer for Trutone Records, discovering many of South Africa’s greatest talents.

3. Cast: Sarafina! (1985)

South African musical theatre has been a major platform for activism and one of the key ways in which the war again Apartheid fought. Many of South Africa’s greatest talent emerged from the musical theatre world. “Sarafina!”, the musical, was written by celebrated playwright, director, actor, composer and impresario Mbongeni Ngema in 1986. The story is set during the Soweto Uprisings of 1976, in which school pupils rose up against the South African government after a compulsory Afrikaans language requirement was imposed. The musical’s music was co-written by Mbongeni Ngema and iconic South African musician Hugh Masekela.

The production was a massive success and was eventually staged on Broadway for two years. In 1992 the musical was adapted into a movie, featuring Whoopi Goldberg, Leleti Khumalo, John Kani and Miriam Makeba. The movie was directed by Darrell Roodt and produced by Anant Singh. The musical’s theme was conceived by Mbongeni Ngema in 1985 after he met with Winnie Madikizela-Mandela at her home in Soweto. The song was devised as a celebration. It is performed by the cast as the lead actress leads her classmates in a celebratory dance in the streets of Soweto, anticipating the release of Nelson Mandela.

4. Dave Mills: Love Is A Beautiful Song (1970)

Dave Mills was born in England in 1935, moved to Australia in 1961 and then to South Africa in 1965. In 1968 he secured a recording deal with Storm Records in South Africa. His first single “Theresa” was released in 1969 and was No. 1 in Rhodesia (today Zimbabwe). It was, however, his second single which made him an international star, “Love Is A Beautiful Song”, released in 1970. The song was written by Terry Dempsey, who was born in England but later became a naturalised South African. The song has a schlager sound and a waltz tempo.

Although very cheesy, it is memorable and truly resonated with audiences in the early 1970s, in an era where schlager was king and Brill Building artists dominated the scene. This was prior to the onslaught of the Disco movement and its dominance of the dance floor. The song peaked at No. 1 in Ontario, Canada in 1973 and South Africa on the Springbok chart. It also peaked at No. 2 in Australia and Rhodesia, and No. 3 in New Zealand. The song’s success encouraged other artists to cover it and it eventually won two SARI (South African Recording Industry) Awards for Best Male Singer and Best Country and Western Singer.

5. Zonke: Tonight (2018)

Zonke is a second generation musician and recording artist. Her father, Vuyisile Dikana, was the drummer for the band Black Slave and Flamingo and her stepmother, Anneline Malebo, was one of the three vocalists in the iconic all-girl group Joy. More than a singer she is also a producer and songwriter who has written songs for the likes of Mafikizolo, Don Laka, Black Coffee, and TK. After completing her studies in Human Resource Management, she moved to Johannesburg to find her fortune. She met Chippa who introduced her to Ringo, Deborah Fraser and Joe Nina, with whom she worked in different capacities.

Her big break came when she wrote “Africa, My Motherland” for a German based band called Jazzkantine, who later became Culture Clan after she joined the band. She has won various awards and commendations, but one of the songs that I think really encapsulates South Africaness is her track “Tonight”. The song was the lead single from her fifth studio album “L.O.V.E” released in 2018 and was her big comeback hit. The song has a distinct South African AfroSoul audio aesthetic, mixed with an underlying AmaPiano groove, featuring elements of Funk. The song was mastered by the legendary Herb Powers and is a true South African masterpiece, giving that sophisticated upmarket club vibe.

6. TK: How Do You Feel (2003)

Although TK is literally South African royalty, being Princess of the baTsonga tribe in Limpopo, she also derives from an iconic music family. Her father was Chief Shilungwa and her mother was Tebogo Mhinga. Tsakani Mhinga’s uncle, Dr Tiny Mhinga, also baTsonga royalty, is married to The Princess of Africa, Yvonne Chaka Chaka. The singer died at the age of 27 on the 27th of February 2006, making her a member of the infamous 27 Club. The multiple SAMA winning artist was brought up in Soweto and her father was opposed to her pursuing a career in music. She, therefore, launched her career without uttering a word to her family.

In 2000 she launched her debut album, “TKO”, which was released through EMI. She then signed an independent deal with Electromode and released “Tsakani” her second album in 2001 and her last album in 2003, “Black Butterfly”. The R&B/House inspired “How Do You Feel” derived from the latter album. The song has an authentically South African sound, driving groove and highlighted everything that made TK a legend, including her amazing voice. The song was composed by George Mothiba, Ignatius Motshwane, Barry and Megan Dean. TK could have easily taken the mantel from Brenda Fassie and Lebo Mathosa, but like the latter two, passed away too soon.

7. Robbie Malinga: Yiyo Le iBhakanyiya (2015)

Robbie Malinga was born in Meadowlands, in Soweto. He was exposed to music from a young age, learning how to play the piano. Because of his piano playing ability he became his church’s accompanist. He furthered his music studies at Roodepoort College in the West Rand of Johannesburg where he met Trompies. He wrote and produced music for some of South Africa’s greatest talent including Zahara, Kabelo, Arthur Mafokate, Sbu, Malaika, Mzekezeke, and Brown Dash. He started his career peeforming with Blondie and Freddie Gwala. Soccer and community in Soweto are integrally linked and Robbie was a massive Orlando Pirates fan.

After supporting the team for many years he decided to compose a few songs for the football club. One of songs composed was “Yiyo Le iBhakanyiya”. I heard this joyous song this year for the first time, as my colleagues consumed it after Bafana Bafana’s opening win at the FIFA World Cup. I was struck by its strong Gospel influence and march like tempo, which certainly drives the movement of the song. “Yiyo Le iBhakanyiya” was by written and produced Robbie and was cherished by the club as a good luck charm, helping them to victory on various occasions. Today it is considered a soccer anthem for all occasions.

8. Mthandeni SK feat Lwah Ndlunkulu: Paris (2023)

I have truly gotten into Maskandi musictruth year. It is a traditional South African Folk music, characterised by driving acoustic guitar rhythms and grooves. Out of all the Maskandi artists that I’ve listened to Leah Ndlunkulu is my favourite. She has introduced new elements to a genre that has traditionally been dominated by male artists. Lwah is only 24 years old and is one of the biggest country’s rising stars. She was born in KwaZulu Natal and in 2020, in the midst of the COVID pandemic, she dropped out of school to pursue her music dreams. She got a job on the Hillbrow Community Radio Station, where she met Big Zulu. The rest in history.

In 2023 Lwah teamed up with Maskandi legend Mthandeni SK. Out of this union emerged a South African musical masterpiece, “Paris”. The song became the first Maskandi song to reach a million streams on YouTube. It has to date accumulated more than 39 million streams on the platform. The song features a strong melody and a driving rhythm. What I love about this song is that it is an evolution of the Maskandi genre. The genre it elevated through an assimilation of AfroPop and Western sounds. This combination brings the genre into the new age, whilst maintaining its Zulu origins.

9. Mafikizolo: Nisixoshelani (2005)

Mafikizolo started as a trio in 1997, consisting of Nhlanhla Nciza, Theo Kgosinkwe and Tebogo Madingoane. Discovered by Oskido they were part of a generation of artists that launched Kwaito music. In 2004 Tebogo passed away and the band decided to continue as a duo. Although originally a Kwaito band, the ensemble has evolved over the years. Their sound today is more an incorporation of various traditional South African genres like Kwela, Marabi and Kwaito with elements of AfroSoul, R&B Pop and House. They have truly carved a niche for themselves in the music business, shipping over 1 million records.

“Nisixoshelani” was featured on the band’s 6th studio album, “Van Toeka Af”, the first album after the loss of Tebogo. The song was written by Mandla Mofokeng, Theo Kgosinkwe and Nhlanhla Nciza and was produced by Spikiri and Oskido. It features a sample of the “Tarzan” chant and has a driving, intentional groove, which alludes to the band’s Kwaito and House music origins. This is one of the band’s most recognisable songs and has accumulated more than 3 million streams on YouTube and Spotify. The song still makes people rise to their feet when it is played at any gathering.

10. Bongo Maffin: Mari Ye Phepha (1999)

Bongo Maffin was formed in Johannesburg in 1995, as South Africa entered a new era of democracy and the emancipation of the populous. The band in its original incarnation consisted of DJ Seed, Stoan Seate, Speedy and Thandiswa Mazwai, who has gone on to lead a very successful solo career. The band were one of the pioneers of a new genre of music that came to encapsulate a new generation of South Africans who were liberated from the shackles of Apartheid, Kwaito. Like many Kwaito acts, the band was discovered by Oskido, who went on to produce and write many of their hits.

“Mari Ye Phepha”’ is another celebratory song, containing influences of Kwaito, Latin, blended with House grooves. The song has a distinctly world music sensibility, meaning it would feel comfortable in most parts of the world, residing next to some of the greatest world music songs of all time. “Mari Ye Phepha” was written by Bruce Sebitlo, Oskido, Don Laka and Adrian Mupemhi and was featured on their album “IV”. The song reminds of songs like “Alane” by Wes, which is one of my favourite songs of all time. This song is a true gem and is certainly one of the country’s greatest musical pieces.

South African music and talent rank amongst the best in the world and the songs selected for this article are some of the best of all time. This article spans a wide variety of genres including Kwaito, R&B, Maskansi, Pop, Afro-Soul, Afro Jazz, House, Pop, Musical Theatre and Township Jive. Three songs included here are protest songs speaking against the Apartheid regime. The interesting thing is that they don’t follow the typical protest song formula, but one that worked for this country. Another three could fall within the Kwaito genre, which was a response to the demise of the Apartheid regime and an era of the emancipation of the masses.

South Africans are resourceful and adaptable people. It is part of the fabric of the country and as a result of the people. This is clearly heard in the songs represented in this article and goes a way to explaining the diversity in the South African music sound. As we evolve as a society and music industry one can hear the influences of many of the songs included in this article in today’s musical manifestations. The selected songs have had an indelible impact on our society and culture and carry on being a beacon of our society and the voice of a generation.

In the previous edition of this series, I had secured a full-time position doing music and progressed in my career, making certain discoveries about who I am and what I stand for. No journey starts with a person knowing all the answers; it is in the journey that one discovers the answers and formalises the process. The difficult part is starting and establishing what it is that encompasses that calling. In the second part of the journey, one establishes the ground rules and refines what does and doesn’t work.

Although there were many challenges in the second part, the greatest was warding off the negative voices that can cloud one’s judgment. Thankfully, I had a lot of training in this regard as a child; nothing came easily then, so why would it become easier as I progressed in my journey? The redemption was finding people who believed in what I was doing and supported me. In this last part of this series, I will focus on my journey of rediscovery and reformulating the calling into a more formal practice.

Three years into my job at Southdowns College, I started yearning for intellectual stimulation. After completing my Bachelor of Arts in Law and Psychology in 1998, I felt I had some unfinished academic business. At that graduation, I decided I wanted to become a Doctor (something my parents also desired), but I had no idea how I was going to achieve that goal. All I knew was if I was going to become a doctor, I needed to do it my way. I have a strong connection to my faith, and initially decided I wanted to complete a degree in theology. I approached a Catholic University and decided I was going to become a Canon Lawyer.

The Calling, Part II: Refinement

One day, one of my colleagues at Southdowns requested I collect some music theory books from a well-known music theorist, Dr Hoek. I vaguely remembered the Dr when I had first started at Southdowns. She and a delegation of academics, invited by Dirk Badenhorst (my Academy College colleague), including Prof van Niekerk, came to investigate what we were doing at the school. When I got to Dr Hoek’s house, I thought I was going to just collect the books and leave, but she asked me to come inside to have a cup of tea.

As we sat in her lounge, she asked me when I was going to study further. I told her that I had no intention of studying music further, as I didn’t believe anyone would give me an opportunity. How did she know I wanted to study further? It felt like a universal intervention. She concluded our interaction by saying that after all I had done in music education, anyone would give me a chance.

I decided to ignore the doctor and carry on pursuing my theology journey. But the universe was not having it, and about a month later I had a thought: maybe I should call Prof van Niekerk, head of the University of Pretoria music education department, and ask her some questions. I had nothing to lose after all; the worst she could say was that I had no chance.

I remember I was driving to Centurion Mall to purchase my usual Coke Zero from McDonald’s, and on the way I thought I’d give the Prof an informal call. She answered, and I made my proposal: “I would like to complete a Postgraduate degree in music. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s what I want to do. Do you think this is a possibility?” she responded, “of course, after everything you’ve done for music education in South Africa, anyone would give you a chance”. Those were the same words used by Dr Hoek a month earlier.

She told me to submit my qualifications, transcripts and CV to the University. The senate would review my application and determine if I was fit to complete the BMus Honours programme. I didn’t hold much hope, considering the university was classically focused, and my music studies had been in contemporary music. Two months later, I got an email from the university confirming I had been accepted into the BMus Honours programme for the 2011 academic year. I could not believe it. How was this possible? It was a reaffirmation that I was on the right path.

To be honest, I was apprehensive about throwing myself back into academia. It had been 10 years since my last qualification and 13 years since my last degree. I didn’t know if I had what it took to attain success; maybe the first time was a fluke. Either way, I decided that the Honours degree was merely a means to an end, that the actual goal was the PhD, which meant this was going to be a seven-year journey. I remember telling my mother I was going back to university, and she asked what I was studying. I told her I was studying to become a doctor. I completed my Honours in two years, cum laude.

What I most wanted out of the Honours degree was to be inducted into the Golden Key Society. This is an American Honours society that acknowledges the Top 15% in a field of study in the world. I had read about this society in various books over the years, and now that I was back in academia, it was the first box I wanted to tick. I was invited to become a member after my first year of study in the honours programme and then again in my second year.

After completing the BMus Honours programme, I immediately moved into my Master's degree, but the journey started off a little rocky. My original supervisor was not the person with whom I concluded my Master's journey. The original supervisor pawned me off onto another external supervisor after I started asking questions she couldn’t answer. The next thing I knew, I was getting a call from Marianne Feenstra, who informed me she would be my new supervisor.

After my eight-year postgraduate journey, I have a few criticisms about the process. One is that no one ever gives the student a clear indication of the parameters and rules of engagement. There are no timelines, no clear communication and oftentimes a belligerent or rude supervisor trying to push their academic agenda. Unfortunately, this is not only my experience, but the experience of many people I have spoken to across various fields of study.

This is not the way it should be, and it should be reviewed. Hearing that a supervisor has just unilaterally moved a student to another supervisor by the new supervisor should not be standard operating procedure. The move was a blessing in disguise, however, and what remarkable synchronicity that I got Marianne, my old SGB colleague from 2006, as my new supervisor. People often talk about angels that come into one’s life to guide one along the way. Marianne was such an angel.

Marianne was one of my biggest advocates, pushing my proposal through the senate, guiding my Master’s journey, and even giving me the idea for my PhD. She was a true force of nature, and we became close friends and colleagues. I sang at her wedding in 2019 and then at her funeral in 2020. It was such an honour to be able to use my talent and voice to bring joy and comfort to my mentor and her family. Getting her as a supervisor, in the way I did, was a true blessing and once again a sign from the universe, intervening when I needed it most. There was no way I would have completed my Master’s with the original supervisor.

I graduated with my Master’s, cum laude, in 2015, after Marianne had argued with the Senate that my 74.5% should be condoned to 75%, verbalising that I deserved my distinction. After completing my Master’s, the race was on to find a university to host me for my PhD. The University of Pretoria was not interested, possibly because my Master’s did not paint them in a positive light, and so I reverted back to my mentor, Prof van Niekerk. She said I should shop around and that someone would take me on and pay for my studies.

I applied everywhere, but where I really wanted to study was the University of the Witwatersrand (WITS). It was where I always wanted to study. I was accepted for my undergraduate degree at WITS, but opted to go to UNISA. I applied to WITS for my PhD, but they stated I did not qualify for a scholarship as a part-time student. So I didn’t bother getting back to them. I applied to Rhodes, Stellenbosch, and the University of Cape Town, but no one seemed to be interested.

That is when one of my former classmates recommended I apply to the University of the Free State. I took her advice, and within a month they got back to me and offered me a scholarship to complete my degree with them. Ironically, at about the same time, WITS got back to me with a scholarship offer. I hesitantly turned down WITS, having already made a commitment to study at the University of the Free State.

I remember sitting at my first meeting in Bloemfontein with my supervisors and being struck by the immensity of the journey I was about to undertake. My music supervisor said I should get my business cards ready, because the end was inevitable, Dr Rocha Leal. I completed my PhD in three years. It was a full academic PhD consisting of over 250,000 words. As one can imagine, tertiary education is not a cheap game, but once again, if one is following one’s true path, all will be provided. Thankfully, the universities at which I studied believed in my work and academic track record and, therefore, my studies were fully funded.

Whilst completing my Master's degree, in 2013, I was asked to judge a leg of the National Eisteddfod in Dainfern, Johannesburg. At the competition, I met one of my childhood heroes, Tessa Niles. I couldn’t believe she was in the audience and that I was judging her children’s performances. Tessa is one of the most iconic backing vocalists in history.

Tessa provided backing vocals on tracks by Kylie Minogue, Tina Turner, The Eurythmics, David Bowie and Eric Clapton, to name a few. Why would she be in South Africa, and in Dainfern of all places? I reluctantly introduced myself to her at the competition, not wanting to come across as desperate, and we became friends. I was invited to her book launch in 2015; we had tea dates together, joked, and laughed. She even allowed me to interview her for my Master’s dissertation.

In 2015, I received a random call from Tessa. She had just left the country; I had even been invited to her farewell party. She relayed that she had been approached by the BVSM (Backing Vocalists and Session Musicians) Awards and asked to accept a Lifetime Achievement Award. Unfortunately, she would not be able to attend and was wondering if I would accept the award on her behalf.

Of course, I wanted to do a favour for one of my heroes/friends and agreed. On the night of the competition, I got to meet another one of my musical heroes, Yvonne Chaka Chaka, the awards’ host. She is one of the greatest people I have ever met, and over the years we have forged a friendship of sorts. Accepting an award on an international stage was another item from the career bucket list ticked off.

In the earlier part of my career, I participated in various television reality shows like Idols and PopStars, but what I really wanted was to be involved behind the scenes. I wanted to know how the cogs of the machine worked. In mid-2015, I was approached by the organisers of “The Voice: Angola” to be a vocal consultant on the show. They needed a trained vocal coach who could also speak Portuguese. The role was tailor-made for me.

I remember going to the headmaster at Southdowns and requesting permission to record the show, as it was during term time and I would be away from work for a month. He reluctantly agreed, and made a point of telling me he would not pay my salary for the month. Fair enough, but I knew he was paying for sports coaches to do international tours whilst still paying their salaries. I didn’t even fight it; I wasn’t willing to be indebted to anyone for anything. I just wanted to follow my dream.

I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by and agreed to do the show. Being on “The Voice: Angola” was an amazing experience, and I quickly learnt the trick to making the judges turn their chairs. The contestants that I mentored were probably some of the most successful in the competition. It was a rush to know that the knowledge I’d accumulated in my career could make a difference in people’s lives. I walked away from the show after a month of hard work feeling like I had accomplished something. Another item checked off the music career bucket list.

As a child, I had always wanted to be a music commentator and journalist. Through Medium, I was able to realise this dream in 2016. My writing has opened up many doors and various opportunities for me. In 2024, after writing a Milli Vanilli article on Medium, I was approached by the host, Bradley Oates-Dalton, of a podcast called “Eurovision Song Context”, to appear on the show. That initial meeting has resulted in 10 episodes for the podcast and the formation of a friendship.

Although I have been interviewed on various television and radio stations, in 2019 my radio journey was formalised when I was introduced to Phemelo Motene at SAFM. Our professional and personal relationship has grown substantially in the ensuing seven years. I list her as one of my dearest friends and mentors. Since 2019, we have recorded over 120 episodes together on SAFM and Kaya FM; she also introduced me to the executive producer of a 702 morning show.

For this show, “The Music Corner”, I have recorded an additional 50 episodes with, amongst others, the amazing Gugs Mhlungu. Through a dear friend and acquaintance, who later became a friend and mentor, Martin Myers, I have done three podcasts for CapeTalk. In total, I have appeared in nearly 200 interviews on radio and have reached millions of people in the process, aligning with my overall career vision and mission.

In the process of completing my Honours, Master’s and PhD, I have had the amazing privilege of meeting and interviewing some of my heroes. I will always owe these people a massive debt of gratitude for journeying with me through this very important part of my life. People like Benjy Mudie, Lira, Zwai Bala, Yvonne Chaka Chaka, and Laurika Rauch have become friends and mentors. One of the people I interviewed, Roshika Doolabh, previously worked for Just Music and now works for Universal, reached out to me in 2023 and asked if I would consider standing to become a judge for the SAMAs (South African Music Awards).

As South Africa’s answer to the Grammy Awards and as someone who wants to be part of the backend cogs that drive the industry, I had always wanted to be a SAMA judge. Without hesitation, I accepted her proposal and sent my qualifications and CV to RISA (the host of the awards). It took some time for them to review my documentation and get back to me, but when they did, I was over the moon. This was a major milestone for me and another item checked off the music career bucket list. Since then, I have judged four seasons of the awards and, in 2025, had the opportunity to present an award.

After being asked to be a judge for the SAMAs, I was also approached by SAMRO (South African Music Rights Organisation) to sit on a review panel for the Music Creation Fund. Anriette Chorn had heard me present at a conference for UNISA about the music industry and decided to reach out to me. This chance encounter at a virtual conference grew into a friendship with another sagely figure who helped guide me for a period. Her wisdom and faith in me were so reassuring. She was another one of those angels that come to a person for a short period, and before I knew it, she passed away in 2025. This was so sad considering I knew she was looking forward to her retirement.

After completing my PhD studies, I still felt like I needed to study further. I toyed with the idea of completing my degree in theology. But then COVID hit, and I was rerouted. At the same time, Marianne contacted me, out of the blue, to ask me to help a group of teachers who were being threatened with losing their teaching posts. The problem was that these teachers did not hold PGCEs (Postgraduate Certificate in Education). In South Africa, a teacher cannot teach at a school without possessing either a Bachelor of Education or an undergraduate degree with a PGCE.

The government, however, understands that there are certain areas of speciality in which universities do not offer PGCE’s. In order to fulfil the government’s scarce skills mandate, they have made special provisions for these areas of specialisation. In these cases, the legislation allows teachers with undergraduate qualifications in scarce skill areas to teach without a PGCE. The problem is that some schools and even the South African Council of Educators (SACE) don’t fully understand the legislation. This is what resulted in many teachers at the time being threatened with retrenchment.

Marianne asked me to use my understanding of the law to interpret the legislation, to assist these “at-risk” teachers with their fight for recognition from the SACE. I, therefore, read through all the relevant legislation and helped compose a letter that was delivered to the SACE. They eventually acquiesced and agreed to give all the music teachers conditional numbers, so they could practice.

Out of this movement grew a tailor-made PGCE qualification at Rhodes University under the guidance of a truly enlightened academic, Prof Boudina McConnachie. The qualification was tailor-made for teachers like myself who had many years of teaching experience, but who did not possess a teaching qualification. Throughout the process of assisting the “at-risk” teachers, I decided I should go back to university and finally acquire this PGCE. I was provisionally accepted at WITS to complete the qualification. In the interim, I was asked to possibly pursue my studies at Rhodes, under the Professor’s guidance.

For a third time in my life, I turned down WITS to go study elsewhere, this time Rhodes. I would become a Rhodes Scholar, something I had always wanted. The studies I experienced at the university were probably the most progressive to which I have ever been exposed. Because it was led by such a visionary, I was afforded the opportunity to innovate as much as I pleased, which I fully embraced. I truly excelled in these studies and eventually passed cum laude in 2022. A few months later, I was asked by Prof McConnachie to teach the course I had just completed as she went on a sabbatical.

This was the fourth time I had been asked to complete work at one of my Alma maters. First at Allenby Campus, then at the University of Pretoria, UNISA (University of South Africa) and now Rhodes. After many years of guidance and mentorship from Adv Nick Matzukis and a few failed attempts at becoming the Academy of Sound Engineering’s Academic Registrar, my chance finally arrived in 2025. I had been wanting to make a move from general education to higher education, feeling I needed a new challenge after 17 years.

The opportunity arrived at an opportune time. My “stay-at-work-wife”, with whom I had formed a strong bond over 11 years, had just announced she was resigning. At this point I didn’t really want to carry on at Southdowns without her. The headmistress at the time lacked vision, and I was tired of convincing people of the value of creative education. But I always said I would not move for the sake of moving. A week after she resigned, Adv Matzukis reached out to me and told me that a position had just become vacant at his institution. After a quick negotiation and meeting of the minds, I decided I needed to move. What more of a sign did I need?

The job at the Academy has been amazing for me. It has widened my scope as an educator and academic, and it has done for me what I had always expected. The opportunity has been a culmination of everything I have learnt to this point: sociology, criminology, psychology, law, music and pedagogy. All of my mentors have informed what I am rolling out at the institution, from Marianne to Ivor, Nick, Caroline and Boudina. It is a rewarding experience that has opened up a whole new world of opportunities for me. These have included becoming a Peer Reviewer for the National Research Fund and even presenting at an International Cultural Conference in 2025.

The calling is something that has been a strong message in my life. Not everyone has always understood my choices, but I have always been clear about what I want to achieve and how I want to achieve it. None of it has been conventional, but it has been done my way. The crux of the matter is that if one intends to leave a legacy, it cannot be built on the back of what other people have done. It needs to be original and bespoke; it can’t be a carbon copy.

I once articulated to a friend that I was tired of always having to fight for everything I have. That for once I just wanted to go with the flow, instead of against the stream. She verbalised to me that with mavericks, they are always breaking new ground and that ground will always be initially unstable, but as people travel the same path, the ground settles. She said that unfortunately, I would always be treading uneven ground. She was completely right, and I’ve learnt that I’m cool with that, as long as I’m being true to the calling.

In the first part of this series, I grappled with the fact that I was given a calling, but I didn’t know how to navigate it. It all seemed unattainable. The input I was receiving from society was that this was not meant for me. That is, until I started following my heart and the messaging that was being sent to me. This was meant for me, and I had to do everything in my power to fulfil my mission. It was not easy, but I needed to block the noise and focus on the crux of the matter.

As one of my law lecturers once said, one must never forget the crux of a case. She added that during a trial, the opposition will throw everything into the argument, but a good lawyer should never lose sight of the crux of the case. The same applies to life as a whole. The truth is that the signs, messages and opportunities arrive when they need to, not when one wants them to. I just needed to be ready when these opportunities arrived. For the most part, I started becoming more cognisant of this and tried to approach my life with greater patience.

The Calling, Part I: Discovery

In the last article, I had completed high school, went to university, and obtained a Bachelor’s degree in Law and Psychology, making me the first person in my family to graduate with a degree. Additionally, I convinced my parents to pursue studies in Sound Engineering and then Music, after encountering an advert that answered my prayers. I ended my studies with very little hope of what to do next, but eventually secured a job as a part-time lecturer teaching Music History and Music Business. At the same time, I walked in an international fashion show, spoke for the United Nations, judged some competitions and was a finalist on a nationally broadcast reality talent contest.

After two years of lecturing part-time and my various side hustles, I was offered my first full-time music job as Head of Popular Music. One of my former classmates from Allenby, Anne Baartman, had started working at the National School of the Arts. At the time, the founder of the department had resigned, and Anne felt that Christine Ludwig and I would be perfect to lead the department.

We both went for the interview and received the job as co-heads of the Popular Music Department. Ironically, it was at a school I had wanted to attend as a child: the Johannesburg Art, Ballet, Drama and Music School. The school was renamed The National School of the Arts, post-1994, after it was amalgamated with the Afrikaans arts school, Die Kruin. It is essentially South Africa’s Juilliard. The two schools have a history dating back to 1969, and I was so happy to be part of the legacy. In the end, I got my wish of attending the school, yet not as a student, but rather as a staff member.

At the school, I worked with various Allenby alumni, Silver Smook, Roy Benjamin and Anne, for a period of time. It was an amazing time, working with some of my former classmates. We had to navigate some politics whilst we worked there. We had some friction with the Classical Music Department (the school had two music departments), as well as with the music school’s former founder. We managed, however, to keep our heads above water and made things better for each other and our students. This is when I came to realise that the students meant more to me than anything else. I wanted the best for them, and I would do anything in my power to make their experience the best ever.

My stay at the school was short-lived, but in my time we managed to make the Popular Music Department a success. Whilst teaching at National School of the Arts, I also continued lecturing part-time at Allenby Campus, and that is when they approached me to take over as head of Sound Engineering and Contemporary Music. Their head was leaving, and they needed someone to fill his space.

I was so honoured, but I did not forget that these were also the very same departments that a few years earlier I had not been qualified enough to teach at. Additionally, whilst I was a student in the music department, I had been criticised by the founder and head of the department. Ironic, therefore, that a mere four years later, I occupied her position. It was at this point that I decided I would do better for my students and give them the creative freedom I was not afforded at the same institution.

I remember sitting in the former head’s office, now mine, and being overwhelmed at what I had taken on. Furthermore, the people who had mentored and lectured me were now my staff. How was I going to navigate that? I decided that I would approach it with kindness and bring to the table what they may not be able to: my administration chops. I was going to run that department like a fine-oiled machine: clear deliverables, open lines of communication, proactive execution of tasks.

I couldn’t allow the noise to stand in the way of what I needed to achieve. I cherished my time at the institution. Whilst there, I converted my two departments into the biggest on campus, improved student throughput, as well as student numbers. I was eventually promoted by the CEO to a national position as Head of Sound and Music, working for Allenby’s holding company, EduCor. Additionally, I was also part of a City of Johannesburg steering committee that started a Youth Festival.

On the strength of my successes at Allenby, I secured a seat on the Music Standards Generating Body at SAQA (South African Qualifications Authority). Together we designed the national music curriculum for GET (General Education and Training – primary school), FET (Further Education – high school) and HET (Higher Education – tertiary). It was in this committee that I met one of my most cherished mentors, Marianne Feenstra (the chairperson).

I initially only contributed to the committees generating standards for GET and FET. I remember sitting in my last meeting and thanking everyone for being so embracing and reminding them it was my last day. Marianne spoke up and said I needed to be included on the committee generating standards for HE. I was so honoured that she “saw me” and appreciated my contribution. Together we developed a generic Bachelor of Music degree that many other universities across the country used as a template.

At this time, a friend of mine used to invite me to visit her at her weekend home at the Hartbeespoort Dam. When we used to go on our morning walks, I’d constantly see a sign for a school called Pecan Wood College. I remember telling her one morning, “That’s where I want to work one day”. I totally forgot about my wish at that point, and about two years later I was approached by a group of investors to start a school for gifted musicians in Centurion.

My friend Roy Benjamin was the one who was originally approached to create this music school for gifted children. He, however, communicated to the investors, Lovemore Music, Centurus Colleges and Danny K, that I would be a better candidate. The holding company was owned by Centurus Colleges, and the school would end up being called Academy College. I created the proposal, designed the programme and left Allenby Campus, then known as Damelin, embarking on a new journey.

I originally envisioned being at the school for five years and initially thought I was designing a programme for tertiary students. As the journey unfolded, I realised the target market was high school children, and I ended up staying at the school much longer than anticipated. I didn’t know how I felt about high school education. Barring my time at National School of the Arts, my educational experience had predominantly been in tertiary education.

Furthermore, the payoff in high school is much longer. With university students, one can see the fruits of one’s labour faster. Moreover, most high school students never articulate into careers in the arts, especially not at private schools, as the expectations are too high. Private school parents don’t want to pay all that money for education to have their children pursue careers in the arts. My calling, however, was to help people find their way to music careers, and not educate high school children.

But ultimately, the position was presented to me for a reason, and I needed to see how I could make it work and establish the purpose for this revelation. I needed to reevaluate my stance and where I fit into this new extension of my career. Initially, I was very single-minded in my approach. For me, the students were all going to become rock stars and the training needed to be designed accordingly. The first few cohorts were responsive to the programme and loved what we were doing.

But as I progressed on my journey, I started reevaluating what I was doing. If I was going to be a responsible educator, I needed to create a programme that would cater to the holistic developmental needs of my students, whilst remaining true to my calling. My definition of what would be achieved at the school needed to widen. Whilst I understood that the older children needed to make a commitment to the programme, the younger ones needed time to explore and make up their minds as to the direction they wanted to follow.

Ultimately, I felt that the children needed to explore all the facets of their high school education: sports, social and academics. Whilst I understood that some only wanted to do music, I needed to make space for those who wanted to explore more widely. Secondly, I started to realise that the music industry is not only made up of practitioners; it also requires an audience. Without an audience, there is no need for practitioners. Therefore, I needed to cultivate an ecosystem that embraced creativity and generated individuals who would be willing to partake in the larger cultural economy.

Ten months into my journey at Centurus Colleges, the Great Recession hit; Academy College was shut down and amalgamated into one of their sister schools, Southdowns College. Ironically, one of the schools that were part of the Centurus network was Pecan Wood College. I spent some time at the latter assisting with their music programme. Once again I got my wish, but not necessarily in the way I imagined.

In the process of assimilating into the new school, Southdowns, I faced many obstacles, including bullying, suspicion and unethical treatment. But once again, I couldn’t allow the noise to stand in the way of the calling. Ironically, the latter themes permeated the 17 years I spent at the school. I, therefore, decided in the face of such toxicity that I needed to create a sanctuary and refuge for my students. A place where they were free to create and be whoever they wanted to be. No judgment and toxicity, just hard work and an immersion in creation and creativity.

I wanted to make my students the coolest kids on campus and give them that thing I didn’t have when I was at school. Many of the concepts I employed at the school were ideologies I picked up at National School of the Arts and Allenby Campus. About a year after joining Southdowns, I went from occupying the role of Director of Music to Director of Culture. This suited me better, helping me nurture and guide audiences to all the art forms offered at the school: drama, dance, music and visual art. Ultimately, all the arts need each other to function optimally. Strength in numbers and creativity.

Three years into my journey at Southdowns, in 2011, I got the opportunity to achieve a lifelong ambition. As a student, I had always heard about Moshito. As the head of Contemporary Music at Damelin, I had reached out to the organisers to exhibit at the conference. Moshito was, at the time, the biggest music conference in Africa, attracting music influencers from around the world. Naturally, this is where I wanted to be, and not as a bystander, but rather as a contributor. Out of the blue, I received a phone call from the organiser to ask if I would like to present at the conference.

What started as one talk turned out to be six and some panel moderation. One of the panels on which I spoke was with one of the most iconic music industry veterans in South African history, the legendary Ivor Haarburger. He was formerly the head of Gallo, South Africa’s biggest independent label. As a final-year student at Allenby, I had attended one of his guest lectures and was totally impressed.

A few years later, I went to Gallo to ask him for advice on how to break into the industry as an executive, but now I would be presenting with Ivor on the African music industry’s biggest stage. I was so anxious to “re-meet” the legend, almost 10 years after we first met, and although we had met before, I don’t think he remembered me. The encounter was brief, and then he was gone. I was still impressed and overwhelmed by the experience. About 10 years after this encounter, we finally reacquainted over an article I wrote on Medium, and this time we forged a relationship that persists to this day. Ivor is a mensch and one of the greatest people I have ever met.

In my 17 years at the school, my concept of education changed irrevocably, and I formalised many of my ideas. I was sometimes frustrated by the opposition and challenges, but being at the school gave me the time to formalise my thinking about music and creative education. For me it was important to offer something new and not a copy of everything the other private schools were offering. We quickly became strong competitors in all the art forms we represented, winning awards, excelling in exams and nurturing the community into which the school fed. It was a highly rewarding journey, and was directly aligned to my greater calling of showing people the way to careers in the arts.

My journey at Southdowns was rocky. Not everyone understood what I was trying to achieve, but it’s not like I was using the most conventional methods. I saw many headmasters come and go, and even more staff members. My team and I helped 111 students matriculate, and we had a 100% pass rate. But in 2022 I was finally called in and told that either I or my “stay-at-work-wife”, Carli Spies, would be retrenched. They no longer needed both of us. I was devastated, especially after everything I had just invested in the school, but I knew that I hadn’t been brought this far for my journey to end like this.

I was very upset, and Carli was just about to go on maternity leave. I couldn’t allow her to lose her job at this critical point. One day I drove into the petrol station to fill up my vehicle, and for some reason I had the most jovial petrol attendant that night. But within seconds, this man’s body seemed like it was possessed by a spirit. His face became serious, and he told me I was on the right track, that what I was doing was correct, that I would be successful in my journey and that everything was going to be ok.

He then reverted back to his jovial self. I asked him what he had just said, and he articulated that he couldn’t remember. I saw this as a sign from the universe that everything was going to be ok, that Carli and I would survive this process, and that is indeed what happened. But after this incident, both Carli and I were a little disappointed in the school and how we were treated. It was the beginning of the end for us at the school.

In this part of my journey, I finally secured a full-time job doing music at a school I had wanted to attend as a child, but never got the opportunity to do so. This led to a job as the head of the institution at which I studied music. Sometimes what one wants and what one receives are completely different, but often better than what one expected. In the end, one needs to trust the process and believe that all will be revealed in due course.

Patience is a virtue, and while we sometimes want to rush through things to get to the other side, we often forget that the gift is the journey, not the destination. Additionally, time is the thing that is most precious. We need the time to figure things out, refine concepts, ideas and consolidate thoughts. If one moves too much, that time is disrupted, and the journey is prolonged. Although I second-guessed the process at times, I needed to believe that things were happening for a reason.

The Calling, Part III: Legacy

Finally, I realised that bullying didn’t end at school; it continued at work and just like I dealt with my bullies at school, I needed to apply the same principles as an adult. I could not allow the noise to cloud my vision, and to that end I remained focused on the long game and what I was setting out to achieve. Creating the ultimate creative ecosystem was my No. 1 priority, and listening to naysayers, bullies and negative people was never part of the equation.

In the last part of this series, I will focus on going back to university, completing my studies and all the side-hustles that added to my armoury of skills. Creatives in this industry require a bouquet of skills to succeed. Even though I have always been a full-time employed creative, I have always pushed myself to make contributions in the wider music and creative industries in order to remain relevant and build my brand. These will be some of the areas of exploration in Part III.

I truly believe that we are all brought onto this planet to serve a purpose. We are all here to deliver a message, contribute something or guide the way. The size of the audiences we all impact may vary and the impact felt may differ, but it does not diminish anyone’s contributions, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. Some people may reach large audiences and alter the trajectory of popular consciousness, and yet others’ contributions may impact a smaller contingent.

That does not mean that the people whose contributions impact a smaller contingent are less valuable. Smaller contributions are like ripples in a pond; whilst they initially start small, the ripples swell and grow and have a far-reaching impact. Sometimes that impact is not immediately felt, but ultimately it will reach every end of the pond. I started writing this article exactly 10 years ago, in 2016, but didn’t know what to say at the time.

Now, as I enter my fifth decade, I feel like my thoughts have coalesced into this three-part article. The value of my message will clearly be dictated by who receives it. From my experience, one can never escape one’s destiny. No matter how one tries to run from one’s destiny, there will always be a greater power that redirects one. This is something I have learnt from personal experiences, and it is the epitome of what many people like to call a “calling”.

It’s probably named a “calling” because it feels like it is a purpose one “needs” to fulfil, something to which someone is being called. Like a natural magnetism that can’t be explained, but to which one feels a compulsion to fulfil. I feel that this calling manifests in many variations. The act of becoming a parent is a calling. The children a parent delivers to the world will irrevocably alter the course of history, either in a small way or intergenerationally. The world is never the same after the birth of a child.

The function of a teacher is a calling, as they will ultimately socialise the future civilisations that will lead humankind. Religious leaders are called to lead flocks, psychologists heal souls, and doctors mend wounds. These are all callings, and if one is following one’s true path, one will ultimately feel self-actualised. The problem arises when one is not following one’s true path and everything feels like a chore. The truth is that everyone is called to something; the difference is that some people are listening whilst others get lost in the “noise” that surrounds them, missing the message.

People who are not following their true path are usually the grumpy people one meets in life’s journey. These are the people who constantly complain about their lot in life and never critically engage with their realities. They would rather use any opportunity to divert blame to circumstances or other people for a lack of success in their lives. Ultimately, following one’s true calling involves sacrifice and commitment to the journey. It’s not easy, but the rewards are innumerable, and whilst one may need to lose something at the beginning of the process, the rewards outweigh the sacrifices.

I have come to learn this time and again, and every time I have tried to escape my calling, I have been dragged right back to where I’m supposed to be. What I have found most rewarding is that every time I follow my true path, the doors open to me in ways I could have never imagined. Like the Biblical proverb describing faith like a mustard seed and how it can move mountains, when one follows one’s true path, the seemingly impossible becomes possible and plausible.

As a child, all I wanted to do was become a singer. I realised early on that I had something that no one else had: the ability to use my voice to make art and change lives. It was something that made others happy, and it made me happy to entertain others. The kick I got out of entertaining people was something that motivated me to conceive of pursuing a career in music. I remember my father’s brother once asking me what I wanted to do when I grew up, and I said all I wanted was to sing on a stage with Tina Turner.

I spent countless hours in my room, as a child, thinking about entertaining audiences and sending my demo to a recording label that would discover me and make me famous. When it came time to attend high school, I heard of a classmate who auditioned for the Johannesburg Art, Ballet, Drama and Music School. I begged my parents to audition, but they didn’t want me to pursue a career in the arts. I, therefore, attended a school that had very little engagement with the arts. That said, I immersed myself in anything arts-related offered at the school. This included the choir, major productions, house plays and the debate team.

Whilst progressing through my music journey at the school, I heard about the Southern Transvaal Youth Choir, a provincial choir, which I was desperate to become a part of. My teacher would not enrol me, rather opting to push other students ahead of me. I eventually enrolled myself for an audition. I became one of the only students in the history of the school to be admitted into the choir, which was a big honour for me and a sign I was doing the right thing. This was, however, a bone of contention for the teacher who didn’t want to enrol me. The act of defying the teacher taught me that sometimes one needs to believe in oneself when no one else will.

When I completed school, it became clear that my music journey was going to end at high school. My dream was to go study music, but because music was not offered as a subject in my school, I did not qualify to study music at university. I resorted to studying Law and Psychology. I had a great time immersing myself in this scholarly endeavour, but as I reached the end of my first qualification, I was subconsciously yearning for my creative roots.

This is when the universe intervened, and my best friend, in a drunken stupor, read my palm and told me I had a suppressed desire that I was not tapping into. She continued by saying that I should follow that path because I was going to be successful at anything I decided to pursue as a career, but I needed to follow my heart. At this point, I decided to ignore her and her drunken message. I was going to be a lawyer, and that was the end of the story.

Either way, I couldn’t see a way “in” for me. I had no formal musical training, and without that I was going nowhere. A few months later, I picked up a newspaper and randomly opened the publication to an advert that caught my eye. It stated that I could study music at this institution and that I didn’t need a formal music background. It was like a message from above. I couldn’t believe it. But what did I decide to do? Ignore it. Two strikes!!

A few months later, I had an epiphany, a calling, some might say. The message delivered was that I needed to pursue my musical ambition. I found the newspaper, called Allenby Campus and booked an audition. Weeks later I was told I had made it into the programme. Now I needed to convince my parents, who had their minds set on me becoming a lawyer. I told them I would start my studies at Allenby studying Sound Engineering, the technical side of the business. Then, if I was successful at that, I would continue with my music studies. They reluctantly agreed, hoping I would return to law.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I was doing something I loved. I fully immersed myself in the sound engineering programme. In the end, I accumulated a whole lot of distinctions and ended my studies as the top student. I had never achieved academic success in this way in my life. I continued with my music studies, and I was equally as successful. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing music. I had to continuously pinch myself. It was at Allenby that I met six of my mentors, Nicholas Matzukis, David Alexander, Dio Dos Santos, Graeme Currie, Celia Zietsman and Ivor Haarburger.

I also made lifelong friends at the institution: Roy Benjamin, Robin Kohl and Christine Ludwig. These are the people who ultimately guided me in my music career. For me, tertiary education is more about the contacts one makes than the content one learns. Most of the people one meets at university are the people who will journey with you in your career. I ended my journey at Allenby with four Diplomas, three certificates, and major anxiety, as I had no clue what I was going to do for a living. Something not lost on my parents. This was not law after all: I couldn’t just find a job in the classified section of the newspaper. Something with which many graduates grapple.

One of my first paying jobs was while I was still a student at Allenby. After watching me present Mr & Miss Allenby, which that year went to Nonhle Thema, Givenchy approached me to be the face of their new fragrance campaign. They were launching three new scents, “Play; Fast Forward; Rewind”, and they needed a host for their activations. I agreed and travelled extensively to promote their fragrances. As someone obsessed with fashion brands as a child, this was a dream come true. I was elated the day I found out I had secured the job.

From Givenchy, I obtained my first full-time job working as a model scout for Chrome Models. The company was a spinoff of TopCo, for which I had previously been a model. As part of the job, I was expected to connect the right models to project briefs received from clients. Additionally, I was responsible for organising underground model parties. This taught me a lot about the entertainment industry and what I was keen on getting involved in, and what I didn’t want to be associated with.

Being involved in the fashion business afforded me the opportunity to model on an international catwalk, when I was selected to be a hair model for a Schwarzkopf Show. It was loads of fun, but I resigned soon thereafter, feeling the job was not getting me any closer to where I wanted to be and intellectually I was feeling stifled. But at least I could tick fashion and modelling off my career bucket list.

Like any person studying music, the end goal is to become a Rock Star, and that’s what I thought I wanted. I auditioned for various things: Idols, PopStars, for a band that later became Seether and a boy band called Eden. I kept on coming so close, and in Crux Gospel Star, televised on SABC 1, I came fourth in the country, meeting Kelly Khumalo in the process. Although I got some attention, I didn’t become a Rock Star. I felt demoralised. Like I had been led astray. Why did I abandon my law career to pursue this “dream”? It felt like a cruel joke.

This is when I got another message, and this time I was told that my calling was not being on a stage performing for people, but rather guiding the way for others. That made sense, and it brought things into perspective: that’s why I hadn’t been succeeding at all the other things I had been attempting. At the same time, I was approached by my Alma mater, Allenby Campus, who asked if I would be interested in teaching and designing their Contemporary Music History course. This was ironic, as the year before, I had proposed restructuring the course for the institution, and they had articulated that I was not qualified enough to teach the course.

Music history has always been one of my passions, and being asked to research and teach such a course was like manna from heaven. Fortuitously, and tragically, the person who had secured the job the year before was involved in a serious car accident and couldn’t return, and that’s why Allenby contacted me. I agreed, and a year later I was asked to design the institution’s Music Business courses. I loved lecturing and helping the students succeed at their passions. Mostly, I loved paying what I received forward.

I had a great rapport with my students, and they achieved great results. I soon realised that my calling was to preach the plethora of routes into a profession in the music industry. Giving people options and counsel on how to achieve their wildest dreams. Ultimately, one doesn’t need to be stuck in a dead-end job doing something one hates to earn an income, when one can just follow one’s dream and still earn an income. Whether as a lawyer, an accountant to the stars or a stylist, designer, manager, or agent, there are many ways to pursue a career in music, and not all of them are on a stage.

One can have the best degree in the world and hate one’s job and never make money doing that thing because one lacks the ambition to achieve. All industries are super competitive, and the only people who succeed at anything are those who are truly passionate about that thing they do. It therefore goes without saying that if one has an actuarial science degree but hates the field, one will lack the ambition to succeed in this competitive field. It is, therefore, far better to pursue a career in something one is passionate about because one will need the drive to compete and succeed in that field.

Over the years I have judged many competitions. My journey started with the Springs Eisteddfod, then the Randfontein festival, organised by one of my friends and mentors, Charmaine Stander. In 2003, one of my vocal coaches, Celia Zietsman, recommended I apply to be an adjudicator for the National Eisteddfod. I duly complied, looking forward to the opportunity. As a specialist in contemporary music, I went from judging the competition to rewriting the section’s prospectus, expanding the offering, and eventually suggesting a spin-off to the competition. That spin-off is today called the Young Performers Awards. My 13 years with the competition were rewarding and taught me a lot about education and positioned me where I felt I needed to be at the time.

In this early part of my music career journey, I was invited to a gala dinner, which coincided with the staging of “The Phantom of the Opera”. That evening I was seated next to the great South African philanthropist Dr Ivan May. We got to speaking, and he asked if I would do an interview on his community radio station, Radio Today. I agreed, and this led to another opportunity. He requested I record a special show for the United Nations regarding the history of South African music and its impact on the world of music. I, together with the iconic American Diplomat Mr Brooks Spector, hosted the episode, which was later delivered to the United Nations. This was a massive honour for me, one of the new kids on the block.

This first part of my journey taught me that it is essential to stick to one’s convictions and never allow anyone to stand in the way of one’s greatness. Sometimes people are wrong, jealous or don’t want to see the best for others, and one needs to dispense with this type of negativity. It is important to believe in oneself and sometimes block out the noise, whilst still being receptive to the calling. It was in taking small steps at the beginning of my career that I was able to make greater leaps as I progressed, but it all needed to start with me.

The Calling, Part II: Refinement

Following my path was truly rewarding, and up to this point I managed to achieve many things I could never have imagined. Even the things I wanted turned out better than I had initially anticipated. To guide me through this journey, I met so many amazing angels who helped guide me along the way. Some stuck around for a long time, and others were fleeting. Everyone played a part, and hopefully I have played a role in many other people’s journeys. In the next part of the journey, I reflect on the beginnings of my teaching career and how it all went down.

Madonna has always said that her music exists on various planes and conveys messages and concepts in a layered manner. I guess that’s art. People receive art differently at different times in their lives, depending on how they are filtering the world. A piece of art will, therefore, be consumed in different ways throughout one’s lifetime. Artists carefully and meticulously layer their art to elicit particular responses from audiences. As someone who emerged from the arts scene in New York in the late 1970s, Madonna was trained to build her music in the same way an artist layers their art.

As we enter Madonna’s “Confessions II” era, I have picked up some of the “Easter Eggs” she has left behind. Maybe some of these thoughts and concepts are not fully conscious, and could stem from the diva’s deep subconscious, but they tell a story marinated in her history. In this article, I will compare the “Confessions On A Dance Floor” album to “Confessions II” through the lens of the two leading singles: “Hung Up” (2005) and “I Feel So Free” (2026). These singles convey a story about where Madonna was at the time she conceptualised and created the two albums, as well as the evolution of her career.

Before I proceed, I will place the two albums in context. “Confessions On A Dance Floor” was released in 2005 at a juncture in Madonna’s career. In 2003, she released one of the least successful albums of her career, “American Life”, produced by French producer Mirwais Ahmadzaï. It was released post September 11 and was satirical, tackling many political matters. It was a polarising piece of work for which Madonna received backlash. In a career filled with many highlights, this was a low point. She previously experienced a similar backlash with the release of the “Erotica” album in 1992, from which it took her some time to recover.

Since the release of “Ray Of Light” in 1998, Madonna experienced a massive career resurgence, post the “Erotica” debacle. Three albums into that resurgence, the rejection of “American Life” must of come as a massive personal blow. Madonna immediately regrouped and started working with Mirwais on a new album. At the same time, she was also working on two musicals, but didn’t like the direction they were taking. She was feeling very pressured and decided to abandon both projects. After “American Life”, she wanted to have fun and make something that would make her happy. She felt Mirwais was just too cerebral and decided not to proceed with the project.

During her voyage of musical self-discovery, she started exploring different concepts with Stuart Price, who had been the musical director of her two previous concert tours. He had initially been brought on to score the music for the musicals. As they worked on the music, they started experimenting with ideas in his loft in London. Madonna was relaxed and having fun, and said it was just something she was doing in her free time. She didn’t expect it would become an album. But that is exactly what happened: many of the nascent concepts became “Confessions On A Dance Floor”.

The album was a massive hit for an artist who many thought was too old to have a comeback. Madonna was 47 when the album was released, and debuted at No. 1 in 40 countries, including the USA and UK, breaking a Guinness World Record. Album sales would eventually surpass 10 million units worldwide, which was greater than “American Life’s” 5 million units. “Confessions On A Dance Floor” took Madonna back to her club days. That’s where she was discovered and cut her teeth in the music industry in New York at Danceteria.

Ultimately, the album was a snapshot of a DJ set. DJs usually curate playlists for a gig and ensure songs flow seamlessly from one to the next. The idea is to keep the party going for as long as possible, while keeping the beats steady and the dance floor heaving. That is what the album does. It is essentially one seamless piece of music. The fans resonated with the Madonna narrative in this instance and appreciated that she revisited her dance club roots.

“Hung Up”, the first single from the album, tells a deeper story. The song contains a prominent sample of the 1979 Disco anthem “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” by ABBA. The year 1979 also happens to be the year Madonna arrived in New York and embarked on her musical journey. The singer started her career as a student of dance with the iconic Martha Graham. The ABBA song would have been prominently playlisted on radio and in the clubs the singer frequented at the time. Her inclusion of this sample on her comeback hit seems intentional and a reminder of Madonna’s origins and dance music pedigree.

The original ABBA song was inspired by another Disco classic, “Hot Stuff” (1979) by the Queen of Disco, Donna Summer. Was the inclusion of the “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” sample inadvertently a nod by Madonna, the Queen of Pop, to the Queen of Disco? “Hung Up” was the first song written for “Confessions On A Dance Floor” and was inspired by music played at Danceteria, the ABBA classic and “Saturday Night Fever”. The diva even references John Travolta in the song’s music video.

“Hung Up’s” hook, “Time Goes By So Slowly For Those Who Wait”, comes from “Love Song”, written by Madonna and Prince for the “Like A Prayer” album (1989), which directly links this project to “Confessions II”. The “Like A Prayer” era was another critical juncture in Madonna’s career. She had just divorced her first husband, Sean Penn, and was heavily criticised for the controversial subject matter contained on the critically acclaimed album. Conversely, when she composed “Hung Up”, she was happily married to Guy Ritchie and had been living in the UK for five years.

Stuart Price got the idea for the song one night when returning home from a gig, when he heard the ABBA song playing on the radio. Madonna was looking for a song reminiscent of ABBA and Studio 54 for a scene in a movie she was working on for Luc Besson. The project was eventually abandoned, but Madonna held on to the song. “Hung Up” is about empowerment and self-actualisation. It’s about a girl who keeps on waiting for a guy, but finally gives up on him and decides to do her own thing.

The song’s theme is juxtaposed against that of the ABBA original. In that song, the woman is mournfully waiting for her man to arrive while watching late-night television. The song talks about depression, alienation and a longing for something more, whereas Madonna’s song is about breaking free of that suppression. Although the song only peaked at No. 7 in the USA, it peaked at No. 1 in the UK and 40 other countries, shipping over 9 million units worldwide. Fast forward 21 years, and Madonna releases the sequel to “Confessions On A Dance Floor”: “Confessions II”.

“Confessions II”, her 15th studio album, came at an important juncture in her life and career. In 2007, after the release of “Confessions On A Dance Floor”, Madonna left Warner Bros., after 24 years, for a $120 million three-album 360° mega-deal with Live Nation. This was a major move, as up to this point, she had only ever been signed to one label. In the deal, Madonna received $50 million in shares and cash and a $17.5 million advance. The idea behind the deal was to focus on Madonna’s live performance career. In her time with Live Nation, she generated over $1.1 billion on the road.

The three albums released as part of the deal, “MDNA” (2012), “Rebel Heart” (2015), and “Madame X” (2019), are her lowest-performing records to date. “Madame X” in particular is her worst-performing album. Although the album is a solid contribution to her canon, with its focus on a world music sound, it was just a step too far for her fans, who know her for dance music greatness. Her Interscope era was lacklustre and found the Queen of Pop lagging behind the trend instead of setting it.

The lead-up to “Confessions II” seems to have taken a similar trajectory to that of the first album. In 2020, Madonna started working on a script for a biopic of her life with Universal. She spent two years writing a script and then an inordinate amount of time fighting the movie studio over budget. Once ties had irrevocably broken down with Universal, Netflix approached her about filming a series about her life. Universal objected to Madonna using the script she had developed for them to make the Netflix series. This was all very disheartening for Madonna, and she approached Stuart to start working on some new music.

Between “Madame X” and “Confessions II”, Madonna endured various hardships. The first was something we all experienced, the COVID-19 crisis of 2020, which interrupted her “Madame X” world tour. The tour was plagued by various interruptions, including technical difficulties and concerns over Madonna’s health. The diva eventually cancelled the tour in early 2020 and underwent hip-replacement surgery later in the year. In 2023, whilst being treated for a bacterial infection, Madonna developed sepsis and was unconscious for four days. This was a near-fatal incident.

In 2024, Madonna lost her youngest brother and probably her greatest confidant, Christopher Ciccone, to cancer. The singer had also lost her mother to the same disease as a child, which was probably a massive psychological trigger. Christopher had travelled with Madonna for the majority of her career. He had appeared in some of her early music videos and was also the creative director on her earlier world tours. The two fell out in 2008 after the release of his book, “Life With My Sister Madonna”. Madonna saw this as an invasion of her privacy and opportunistic exploitation. The siblings didn’t speak for many years, but reconciled prior to his passing.

All these events led to a moment of critical reflection and introspection, which can be heard on many tracks on “Confessions II”. Although people feel dance music is superficial fodder for the dance floor, strong human emotion was the driver for Madonna’s 15th studio album. The process of making the album for the singer must have been cathartic, a moment to process everything that had happened in her life between 2019’s “Madame X” to “Confessions II”. Additionally, Madonna speaks about the healing properties of dancing and just letting it all out on the dance floor. The healing is done through movement.

By interrogating the lead single from “Confessions II”, one gains greater insight into this album and what Madonna is trying to communicate at a more subconscious level. “I Feel So Free” was released on 17 April 2026, soon after Madonna’s surprise performance at Coachella with Sabrina Carpenter. It was billed as a promotional single and not the lead from the album. Its slow, intentional pace and futuristic sound reminds me of “I Feel Love” by Donna Summer, released in 1977. It also references other spoken word tracks previously released by Madonna, including “Justify My Love” (1990), “Erotica” (1992) and “Paradise (Not For Me)” (2000).

The song features a prominent sample of Lil’ Louis’ 1989 House anthem “French Kiss”. This sample once again feels intentional. Firstly, it indicates an evolution from Disco (“Hung Up”) to House. Yet, its similarity to “I Feel Love” grounds the sound in Disco. Secondly, referencing a 1989 House track in the lead-up to “Confessions II” alludes to a critical juncture in Madonna’s career. Just like “Hung Up” alludes to Madonna’s arrival in New York in 1979, through the inclusion of the ABBA sample, “I Feel So Free” places us 10 years later in the Queen of Pop’s career (1989).

The 1989 epoch is Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” era. This was a juncture in her career. By this stage, she had become an international superstar. The album was a break from what she had done in the past. She wanted to move toward a more mature sound and away from the teen-oriented music for which she had become known. “Like A Prayer” was a deeply personal album on which she reflected on her family, the death of her mother, religion and her 1989 divorce from Sean Penn. Additionally, Madonna turned 30 in 1988, another major milestone in her personal evolution.

Furthermore, she had experienced two failed movie projects (“Who’s That Girl”, 1987, “Shanghai Surprise”, 1986) in the lead-up to the release of “Like A Prayer”. It was a much darker album than her previous projects and was, therefore, risky for a bona fide superstar. Despite the critics plotting her downfall prior to the release of “Like A Prayer” and Madonna not helping matters by planning a controversial launch, the album was well-received. Although not as successful as “True Blue”, which shipped 25 million units worldwide, “Like A Prayer” was No. 1 in the USA and UK and shipped 15 million units globally. “Like A Prayer” became the blueprint for what would unfold in the next few years, from the “Immaculate Collection” (1990) to “Ray of Light” (1998).

More than a House track, “I Feel So Free” recalls Madonna’s origins in New York at the clubs on the dancefloor. This is where she was discovered at Danceteria (another track on the album) by Mark Kamins, performing dance music. The song follows the tradition of many similar dance songs by divas such as Gloria Gaynor, Donna Summer, Betty Wright, Thelma Houston, Robin S, Crystal Waters and Kylie Minogue. It features a solid beat, minimalistic harmonic structure, spoken word vocal (inspired by another genre emerging at the time, Hip-Hop) and an infectious hook.

Although “Confessions On A Dance Floor” and “Confessions II” are separated by more than two decades, they arrived in Madonna’s life and career at critical junctures. Out of disappointment and career lows, these two albums vindicated the diva at times when the industry and audiences had written her off. The phoenix rose out of both of these figurative fires to ultimate vindication. “Confessions On A Dance Floor” was a reflection on Madonna’s arrival in New York and the scene that permeated the music industry at that time.

“Confessions II” picks up that narrative 10 years later and once again reflects the audio landscape of that era. The two albums are an extended sonic narrative of Madonna’s evolution as a dance artist. They are also an audio time capsule of the sounds and grooves that dominated the two eras on which they reflect. Stuart Price takes it one step further by carefully weaving one track into the next to give the audience a snapshot of what a night at the club with Madonna might be like.

“Hung Up” and “I Feel So Free” are the perfect catalysts for both these projects. I find it difficult to believe that it is coincidental that both tracks sample songs that originated from two critical eras in Madonna’s career. These eras bring her arrival in New York (1979) and her transition to mature artist (1989). Madonna continues to prove that she is the Queen of Reinvention, and when she is true to her roots, fans respond in their droves, which is a testament to her enduring Dance Floor legacy.