Confessions of a Music Addict

Music’s an addiction.

For all the screeches and scratches in the South African scene, the struggles and fights for a rung that isn’t at the top, surely our attendance is the love of a drug. We witness our compatriots and enemies slip through the cracks of financial despair, some vanishing forever whilst others reemerge just to slip again ‘cause the rehab of reality never worked. Calling it an “industry” doesn’t make it one, doesn’t erase the dreamers and the dealers wanting to get high and sell highs, the stars of the stage working their 9hr day jobs.

But the big picture can’t be felt that well. It’s the small one that throbs the blood, quickens the heart (so that it’s here-comes-the-heart-attack-again) and explodes the brain, overdosing into evidence for elevated self or selves to look up to. We get high, sometimes so fucking high, but when we come down its distance amplified, that void that questions not sanity but the absence of it. Never again, never again, NEVER FUCKING AGAIN!

…but then we hear a song that so excites that we swallow it, a pill for our faith, as transparent as tears but as powerful as a god.

The difference between an amphetamine and music is that one is dependence whilst the other is sharing…an addiction by choice.

I choose Music.

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