By looking back at my dad’s music collection I understand more clearly that the music I listened to as a child shaped my personality, destiny and view of the world.
When African Americans press ‘record’ to film police brutality, they are challenging a nation not to look away.
Davis’s 1970 album Bitches Brew turned jazz on its head and paved the way for fusion. More recently, Radiohead cited it as a key influence.
Before an exhausted crowd, Hendrix fused protest and horror with patriotism and optimism.
An ethnomusicologist traces the origins of the practice, from early 20th century ‘air conductors’ to Joe Cocker’s air riffing at Woodstock to the rise of international competitions.
Pinching musical phrases and stylistic approaches has always been a part of art making and can be a respectful exchange. But shallow, ill-informed appropriation only perpetuates tired stereotypes.
A new art exhibition in Johannesburg mines the rich intersections between Mozambique, South Africa and Portugal.
‘Bitches Brew’ and ‘Live-Evil’, two albums from Miles Davis’ electric period, have more than musicological significance. They challenge the listener to think beyond aesthetics and form.