Namibia’s Glitter: Where Music Takes a Backseat to Bragging Rights

LET US FOCUS on Namibian musicians who spend more time and money to look like they are doing something, instead of actually doing the music.

This is a land of pulsating rhythms, soulful voices and suspiciously rent-a-posh-house music videos.

Our artists are working harder on their Gucci flip-flops than their instruments. (Oops, many cannot play a single instrument.)

Take GazTepo (pronounced Ngastepo), the latest heart-throb with a voice smoother than Namib Desert sand after good rains.

GazTepo’s latest video, ‘Millionaire Mindset’, features him lounging by a pool the size of the Etosha Pan, surrounded by models who could out-strut a phat springbok.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with a little poolside action, except GazTepo’s ‘mansion’ looks suspiciously like that abandoned government building down the street from my gogo’s house.

Let’s just say the special effects budget must’ve been YUGE.

Now, the politicians in parliament are confused as they discuss local music on local airwaves.

They can’t reconcile the poverty-stricken industry being portrayed with the flashy images they see on television.

On the other hand, Namra is getting ready to pound the musicians for a little tax, because they’ve heard that these cats are loaded.

And then there’s the whole ‘designer label or death’ mentality. Our music stars spend more time coordinating outfits with their entourages than coordinating their melodies.

Newsflash, darlings, the latest Fendi shades won’t hide a flat note.

You know what makes you look truly fly? A killer track that gets the shebeens rocking.

But hey, who needs good music when you can blind everyone with the brilliance of your borrowed bling?

Speaking of borrowed, let’s not forget the infamous ‘studio beef’.

These ‘battles’ are more staged than a photo shoot with a tame lion (Namibia’s got options, folks).

One minute they’re dissing each other on lukewarm rap tracks, the next they’re spotted chilling at Wernhil Park mall, sharing a schwarma (hey, gotta keep the energy up for all that beef-ing).

It’s all about keeping the drama train chugging, folks, even if the music itself is as stale as week-old boerewors.

And then there’s the kapana spice of the music industry: Namibian witchcraft.

Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe. I’ve seen enough inexplicable things here to shut a non-believer up. But here’s the thing, folks: Why is all this magic focused on hexing your rivals?

Where’s the love potion for chart-topping success? The lucky charm to land a record deal sweeter than Namibian dates?

This one-sided sorcery is leaving me more confused than a kudu in a furniture store.

Do you remember that kudu that was found roaming Grove Mall in Windhoek? I guess that never happened either.

Look, Namibian music has heart, it has rhythm, it has the potential to be truly great. But sometimes we get so caught up in the glitz and the gossip that the music itself gets lost in the dust.

Maybe it’s time to invest in some studio time, skilled musicians and unique sounds, instead of the latest iPhone.

Maybe it’s time to let the music do the talking, instead of the rented mansion and the borrowed Bentley.

After all, a catchy tune can buy you a real mansion one day, but a flashy car loan won’t buy you a hit song.

Don’t get me wrong, international artists are basically the Mount Kilimanjaro of the music industry – towering over everyone else.

The problem here is that copying their every move – from the dance routines to the dramatic meltdowns – is like trying to scale Kili in flip-flops.

It may look cool on Instagram, but it ain’t gonna get you to the top.

The real kings and queens out there found their own sound, one that blended their background with global trends.

Imagine a Namibian artist who mixes Owambo rhythms with a fire rap verse, or a love ballad sung with a Damara twang.

That, my friends, is how you take the music world by storm. Not by trying to be a watered-down version of someone else.

So, Namibian artists, please get back to the music while lobbying for your music to flood the radio stations.

Create a unique Namibian musical movement. Let your talent shine brighter than any pair of rented designer sunglasses.

Let your music be the magic that propels you to success, not some questionable potion from a backyard sangoma in Wanaheda.

Because trust me, folks, Namibian music fans would rather be dancing to a fire track than reading about the latest ‘studio beef’ or your questionable poolside fashion choices.

Let’s make Namibia a land of chart-topping hits, not just champagne showers in borrowed bathtubs.

Now that would be truly magical.