"If you're not COMPOSING, you're DECOMPOSING!"

I only knew this one song;

“There is a house in New Orleans,
They call…”

"Sing, Boeta, sing!"

The Old Man‘s voice bellowed across the silent Botswana desert. Only the crackling of the fire, his guitar and my whimpering voice remained.

His voice cuts through the crisp, winter air
again

"Sing!"

Later, I would focus on creating my own sound, dominated by “improv” creations. I met a vocalist with the same ability to create masterpieces on the spot.

As time drifted me and the vocalist apart,
LIFE drifted from the Old Man…

"Sing, Boeta, sing!"

…still ringing in my ears…
…as a homage to the Old Man… 
“Muziki-kant” was born

STILL STRINGING!

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