“They just don’t make music like they did in the old days.” Old Servaas knits his brows together in distaste. “Listen to this new thing they call crap…”
“It’s called ‘rap’, Servaas. It’s the newest craze. Big in America, they say.” Gertruida, who knows everything, is quick to correct the old man. She even knows who Jack Sparrow is.
“You can call it what you like. These new guys can never be as good as Virginia Lee. Remember that song about the red eyes?”
Servaas gets misty eyed when Boggel fishes out a 78 to play the song.
“No man, nobody beats Charles Jacobie, the singing cowboy. Remember him? That man made you long for home big time.” Vetfaan smiles at the memory.
Kleinpiet shakes his head. “Gee whiz, Vetfaan. That accent! And a poor translation, if you ask me. If you want to listen to old Afrikaans songs, its hard to beat Chris Blignaut.”
“My foot! That’s ‘Deep in the Heart of Texas’ dressed in khaki. Original Afrikaans? Look no further than Jeremy Taylor. And he was funny, too!” Boggel smiles at the memory.
“Funny, sure. But not Afrikaans. What about the Briel Susters? Now that’s pure nostalgia.” Oh the memories! Even Precilla looks sad…
“No, stop it with the old songs. Theuns Jordaan does it for me.” Surprisingly Oudoom displays romantic streak. Must be the changing of the seasons…
“Oh give me the new version of that song about the girl with the auburn hair. Elvis Green or somebody.” Fanny tries to remember, but Gertruida is quick to help her with the correct surname.
“Well, bring on David Kramer then. He’s the one who should be singing here. That Royal Hotel is so typical of Boggel’s Place.” Sammie has always said that David is a distant relative.
Servaas sits back, closes his eyes, and remembers Siena’s favourite song. It isn’t Afrikaans, but it’s in German and that’s near enough. And it even contains a message for all the new-fangled, long-haired monotone falsetto youths who call themselves musicians these days: ‘Let the lips remain silent…”