Fly the knee-rug, it’s Tyla!

The new Queen is from Jozi, she is 22 (and we are 21 again)

Myself and The Beloved were at Tyla’s homecoming concert at GrandWest Casino. What a wonderful experience it was, even if that place is a rather nasty venue, and we stood from start to finish (time on feet including queueing for ages: 5 hours; combined age 110+).

I am normally one to sit somewhere up top with a nice view of the proceedings (don’t forget your opera glasses). I like a knee rug sometimes and maybe even a nice cup of tea, but … you know … Tyla, we were 21 again!

It was rather exhausting, but so fabulous to have been there. It felt like one of those moments where one watches a new era being ushered in.

Tyla is our very own Madonna, her rise is the pop representation of the birth of the long-awaited African Renaissance (yes, dear, I know about Amapiano; I am using the word pop generically).

Watching this professional, polished 22-year-old wow a packed house of adoring fans, young and old, I knew we were watching the beginning of something special.

Tyla reminded me a little of a young Madonna. Her show brought to mind the experience of watching Madge’s ascent in the Eighties and Nineties. I know now that, at that time, the Queen of Pop could only have come from America. It was their time, like the Swinging Sixties belonged to England. This feels like Africa’s time.

See you at the stadium next time; hopefully we will be in a suite.