No luck on widening my Safari Soundtrack during this last trip. In the end Teddygate (as someone lacking all imagination has no doubt christened the whole thing) meant I didn’t head off on my planned road trip and I stayed in Khartoum. Instead it was mostly Grinderman that helped me drift off to sleep in the evenings. So I’m no further on yet with establishing whether Yes or Bruce Springsteen are likely to come into their own when driving through Africa’s parched savannah. (Although I have to say that Yes’s Close to the Edge sounds on first listening as if the only surroundings that would suit it would have to involve large mushrooms and elves – and by then the music is probably not the main focus of your attention. Or at least it shouldn’t be)
In the meantime I stumbled across an essay by Nick Hornby (in The Complete Polysyllabic Spree) in which he touches on something vaguely analagous… although rather more important. He’s writing about a radio station, B92, and the role its underground DJs played in a 10-year campaign against President Milosevic’s forces of repression:
This is Serbia Calling is essential reading if you’ve ever doubted the power or the value of culture, of music, books, films, theatre; it also makes a fantastic case for Sonic Youth and anyone else who makes loud, weird noises. When your world is falling round your ears, Tina Turner isn’t going to do it for you.