There’s just something so appealing about “Columbo.” Maybe it’s Peter Falk’s rumpled brilliance portraying this character, from his coat to his hair, or the dog named “Dog,” or the inverted concept of a mystery story as a howcatchem instead of a whodunnit.
Now, I have a long history with on-screen detectives. I love the unreliable narrarators, the scandal, the often sleazy environments. The first season of “True Detective,” has one of my all-time favorite characters in Rust Cohle. One of most-watched movies is “The Long Goodbye,” which features Elliot Gould’s amazing portrayal of the private eye Phillip Marlowe. My mom and I have watched nearly all twenty-five seasons of “Midsommer Murders,” religiously, with cozy blankets and cups of tea in hand. For me not to fall in love with “Columbo,” would be like a dog not wanting a bone.
I was introduced to the show only a week ago, as a friend put on an episode for us to watch. Needless to say, I was instantly hooked.
The country of Zambia saw it’s population’s culture shift in a such drastic way more than one could imagine at the time and big reason for this was the birth and rise of Zamrock. But what exactly is Zamrock?
Well, the short answer to that question is a genre of music that originated in Zambia during the early 1970s that combines the sounds of local music, psychedelic, and garage rock sounds into the mainstream of the country’s music scene at the time. However, to truly understand the reason for Zamrock’s creation its important to know the history of Zambia during this time.
From Liberation to Creation
In 1964, Zambia gained its independence from British colonial rule and was fortunate enough to gain full control of the copper mining industry in the country which led to an economic boom. The first elected president of Zambia was Kenneth Kaunda and in an effort to create a national identity to further itself from its past colonial rule, Kaunda decided to invest heavily into the entertainment industry, specifically, the music industry.
As a result many young Zambians at the time became more and more musically inclined while taking influence from popular bands at the time like Black Sabbath, The Rolling Stones, Deep Purple, Jimi Hendrix, and The Beatles.
Also, its worthy to note that during this time, all Zambian radio stations were required to play at least 90% Zambian music as this was an order given by Kaunda himself.
This gave many musicians an incentive to create music as making a song or an album essentially meant getting airtime on the radio. Thus, Zamrock was born with its first ever release in 1972 being “Introduction” by W.I.T.C.H.
Notable Bands/Musicians
Salty Dog
W.I.T.C.H (We Intend To Cause Havoc)
The Boyfriends
Paul Ngozi & and The Ngozi Family
Amanaz
Rikki Ililonga
Musi O Tunya
Keith Mlevhu
The Decline of Zamrock
Unfortunately, Zamrock did not last long after its creation as the country went into a decline in many ways. First, it was the global decrease of the copper industry at the end of the decade which was 95% of Zambia’s export at the time. This was a major blow to the economic state of the country and sadly this wasn’t the only problem Zambia faced.
In 1984, an HIV/AIDS epidemic took place in Zambia. This event killed a significant amount of the adult population and this included many musicians. This not only was a huge loss for the general population of Zambia, but it ultimately was a large reason for the end of Zamrock.
Zamrock From Today’s Perspective
The music from Zamrock did not gain much traction outside of the country until much later on. Recently, thanks to the likes of Eothen “Egon” Alapatt and Now-Again Records, many bands and songs have been rediscovered by many all across the world through re-released and compilation albums of many Zamrock bands.
Zamrock has even managed to influence recent artists such as: Yasiin Bey (fka. Mos Def), Travis Scott, Yves Tumor, and Madlib through the use of samples.
On a Final Note
Looking back, The story of Zamrock is certainly a special one as this is something many people today not knowledgeable about it wouldn’t believe after first hearing about it. Seeing as how Zambia is a South Central African country who had not gained it’s independence up until relatively recently.
Nonetheless, Zamrock is an event that deserves to be remembered and seen as more of a movement than a genre as it served as a great part of Zambia’s liberation story.
When I was 16, my parents bought me my first record player (at my request). They couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around it.
“Nobody listens to records anymore,” they said. “You won’t even be able to find any.”
Six years later after I inherited my cousin’s expansive CD collection, they were similarly befuddled to learn that I did not intend to throw them away, but rather seek out a secondhand CD player.
“Nobody listens to CDs anymore,” they said. “You won’t even be able to find any.”
My parents’ assumptions, while (flagrantly) wrong, were interesting to me. Born in 1965 and 1971, respectively, my father and mother witnessed both the age of vinyl and CDs come and go. They resigned themselves to an unequivocally digital future.
People still buy vinyl and CDs, but most of them don’t look like my parents. They look like me: twenty-somethings with tote bags, scuffed Doc Martens and obscure band tees. The infamous and much-reviled Gen Z.
The Resurgence
According to a study by the Record Industry Association of America, vinyl sales rose by 29% in 2020, overtaking CDs and cassettes for the first time in decades. Between the years 2020 and 2021, sales saw a whopping 61% increase.
According to MRC Data’s midyear report for 2021, vinyl sales are only expected to keep growing, and one of the driving factors behind this is Gen Z.
While the 55+ age demographic historically takes the lead in vinyl purchases, 2021 data shows the 25-34 age demographic tying with 55+, with each composing 21% of all new sales. Younger demographics, like those 18-24, purchase 14%.
Though Gen Z has failed to take the lead in vinyl sales so far, they compose a significant margin of the market with plenty of room for growth.
While I could find a slew of statistics on Gen Z’s impact on vinyl sales, I was hard-pressed to find solid numbers on CDs.
One of the reasons for this, according to RIAA Research Director Matthew Bass, is that the RIAA can only track first sales. A lot of CDs are secondhand, and their passage from person-to-person has no traceable footprint. Therefore, while data on new CD sales demonstrates a decline, data on used CDs isn’t part of the equation.
So, What’s the Deal?
As I perused a vast selection of articles and thinkpieces, I came to realize something. Most, if not all, of what I read was written by people outside of the Gen Z demographic.
Their reasoning behind Gen Z’s affinity for physical music was purely speculation (one even said it was “y2k,” an abbreviation that still sends shivers down my spine), and therefore meant next to nothing to me. If I wanted to hear old men give me their opinions on my generation, I would just go to Facebook.
So, I reached an impasse. I certainly knew why I collected vinyl and CDs, but despite my conviction that I was one of The Music Listeners Ever, I needed a more comprehensive pool of data to draw from.
Luckily, I had a particularly large group of pathological music fanatics at my disposal, and they were more than happy to tell me their thoughts.
What’s so special about having physical copies of music?
In a world of subscription services and digital downloads, nobody truly “owns” anything. Rather, they pay monthly installments in order to prolong a temporary — and conditional — loan.
“Instead of monthly payments for as long as the site lasts,” said Chainsaw DJ Wizard of Gore, who collects both CDs and vinyl. “I can pay once for an album I love and listen to it over and over forever.”
Other DJs shared a similar sentiment. DJ Bodhi, a vinyl collector, loves the “sheer mystique” of being able to hold music.
“There’s something unique about ownership in the digital world,” they said. “In many ways, it’s the last guard for so much music history.”
“In our modern era, everything feels too digitized,” said DJ Cosmonaut, a fan of vinyl and cassettes. “For me, the one thing that got me hooked on [vinyl] was being able to look at the music I was playing. I wasn’t just streaming it; I was holding the album itself in my hands.”
Others, such as DJ Hexane, find CDs to be a more convenient option as technological interfaces become increasingly streamlined and device-dependent.
“I have an older stereo system, so I don’t have an AUX imput or Bluetooth connection for streaming with my phone,” they said. “Plus, many phones these days are removing AUX inputs, and dongles break very easily. I enjoy being able to use my stereo system in my car with CDs.”
Apollo, who also collects CDs, had a similar perspective.
“I like CDs because it’s way easier to pick a CD out and have it play than mess around with my phone while driving,” they said, adding #safedriver.
Some vinyl, said DJ Cowball, former WKNC GM, can be an investment. “A Weezer record I don’t really play anymore goes for over $100 on Discogs,” she said. “I might sell it sometime.”
Many DJs purchase CDs and vinyl in order to express their support for their favorite artists.
“Spotify is notorious for underpaying artists,” said Wordgirl, who enjoys both CDs and vinyl. “I feel like it doesn’t help the the artists I love to simply stream their music.”
While purchasing and listening to music on vinyl and CDs is generally more expensive, time-consuming and complicated (As DJ Mithrax admits, it’s certainly not preferable) than using a streaming service, these qualities are precisely what make the practice so important.
“It’s a more intentional process,” said DJ gotosleep. “Which makes the listening experience more substantial.”
And I agree. There’s something intrinstically (perhaps even metaphysically) rewarding about seeking out, acquiring and spinning physical music. The process and the experience become divorced from the endless convenience and mindlessness of the digital sphere.
“There’s a ritual aspect to it,” said Johnny Ghost. “It’s a tactile experience.”
“I love CDs,” said DK Tullykinesis. “I love the colors, the boxes. I love when they have little pamphlets with them. I love seeing them keep spinning for a little while once I press ‘stop’ and take them out of the player.”
In a world aching for nostalgia, physical music stratches that proverbial itch. It signals to a time forever simpler and forever more romantic than the present. For Gen Z, that yearning for the past will likely never fade. We will forever be drawn to the tactile and physical as the world arround us becomes less man and more machine.
Hello, all glorious death metalheads and sci-fi geeks. Today marks the advent of demise, loneliness and destruction in the outer spheres of the universe as I take a dive into Vorga’s “Beyond the Palest Star”.
This album was released March 29, 2024 on ______. This album is Vorga’s second full length release. Their first, “Striving Towards Oblivion” was released two years ago to much acclaim, but the recent sound-byte reviews of “Beyond the Palest Star” puts it above their first release (as seen on their Bandcamp).
Vorga hails from Germany, and the members include Atlas (Rhythm Guitar), Спейса (Lead Guitar, Bass + Vocals) and Hymir (Drums).
“Beyond the Palest Star”
In our trip to the outer edges, we find ourselves immediately lost in the beauty of cascading drums and guitars. They bleed into our ears and confuse the listener. The shock and bite of delirium is welcome. (When is it not?).
“Voideath”, the first track on the album, is a long ambling journey itself. The track reaches and climbs through speakers to bring out the intense misery of loneliness in space. Again, it’s welcome, because that feeling is what we search for among the stars. Спейса’s vocals grind in their heavy, throaty way to wind through the stars searching, ever searching.
In “The Sophist”, which is my favorite track on this release, the journey ambles onward. Through a maze of asteroids we are begged to think and think about impending doom. The song is a little bit slower as it undulates with time and rhythm. Metal is the only sound heard in the emptiness of space, as it should be.
Vorga decimates all listeners with this niche and growing genre of space bending metal. Evil and doom protrude to the corners, edges of everything, so why not explore space with the knowing feeling of emptiness and be happy you expected it.
Deep fried space calamari is an everyday meal when you’re starving,
I can’t remember my first introduction to Vampire Weekend, but I can remember how I felt listening to “M79,” at maybe nine or ten years old and feeling absolutely starstruck. From then on, the music stuck with me, dominating my ipod playlists. I carried Vampire Weekend with me everywhere. On the way to school, before bed, packing up and moving from our house in downtown Carrboro to Chapel Hill, sifting through all the boxes to find my CD player so “Campus,” could be the first song to grace my new room.
So, with all that history, I’ve been waiting patiently for “Only God Was Above Us.” The day the album came out I was waiting at the train station to visit my longtime friend in Washington, DC. I listened to the album once waiting in the lobby. I listened to it again staring out the window. Then again, then again.
Staring out through the glass, watching the fields and farms and green trees race by, I was struck by how similar “Only God Was Above Us,” sounded to Vampire Weekend’s previous works. Not so much 2019’s “Father of the Bride,” but the albums that started it all, such as “Modern Vampires of the City,” and the self-titled “Vampire Weekend.”
There was the sparkling instrumentation, the return to jaunty themes and arrangements, the tongue-in-cheek lyrics.
To my suprise, this similarity was intentional. Reading about the album, the things that I had only thought sounded familiar were actually familiar. Keonig and his bandmates picked up some of the motifs from Vampire Weekend’s most popular songs and expounded upon them, calling back songs like “Mansard Roof,” on the song “Connect.”
The result is something strange, uncanny, and to me, a bit jarring. I was filled with an uncomfortable nostalgia. My mind wanted to take me back, but my body was rooted firmly in the present.
On the first few listens, Vampire Weekend was trapped in a moment in time, back to when I was a young kid dancing around my bedroom on my days off from school, but more so, back to the hipster culture of the early 2000s.
But then something clicked. I tried to separate the past and present in my mind, appreciating the artistry of returning to your roots, taking the songs that become so boring to perform and think about after 20 years, and adding new flairs to them, recreating history.
All of a sudden, “Only God Was Above Us,” became something entirely fresh. Among the old there was new, the jazzy touches, the roaring orchestrations and the flurries of sound in “Connect,” and “Classical.”
“Classical,” I think, captures the whole of the album. Koenig sings, “I know that walls fall, shacks shake / Bridges burn and bodies break / It’s clear something’s gonna change / And when it does, which classical remains?”
When stripping away the legacy of the band, unpacking each of the songs, what remains? What pieces can be salvaged, what new things can be built? The classical is the old Vampire Weekend,the old me, the old you. I think this album can be seen as growing up, as rearranging the past messy bits of your life, of moving on and becoming a more well-rounded person.
There’s also the song “Hope,” which is an almost nine minute long track which is epic, hopeful, and future-forward. “I hope you let it go,” says Koenig. “The enemy’s invisible / I hope you let it go.”
In an interview with Exclaim!, he stated in regards to the song, “What does hope mean? Well, I hope I have the ability to let things go; I hope I have the ability to go with the flow of life; I hope I have the ability to love life, no matter what form it takes.”
I think this quote encapsulates what I didn’t recognize about the album before, what was missing from my view of the past. Stepping ahead and becoming an adult means re-contextualizing everything you’ve once done and being able to think more clearly. That’s what Koenig and his bandmates have done here, quite literally, extrapolating on their old songs and adding more.
With that, my nostalgia doesn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore. This album secures fluidity in the legacy of Vampire Weekend. They don’t have to be trapped, they’re a living and changing organism like anyone else. I can still dance around my room, just a grown up kid, knowing this music will grow alongside me.