Fear not ye Malthusian prophets of doom

In the mid 1970’s India was plunged into a regressive period of centralised authoritarian rule and corrupt government when Indhira Ghandi, having been accused of electoral malpractice, imposed her continued rule on the nation.

It is recalled as a dark time in the history of the nation, a time when questionable policies were forced through and opposition was quashed through brute force.

By the mid 80’s this episode had apparently tailed to a settled conclusion, yet I have my doubts.

If this repression had finished, how come in that case that 70’s influenced soft rock and 80’s pop music remain the sounds of choice in every “pub” in India?

Surely it’s not coincidence that by the second summer of love the influx of western hits appears to dry up.
I challenge anyone to pick out a song post 1990. They just don’t exist.

Its as if they have all the “Now that’s what I call music!” Allbums up to about Now! 12 and play them on loop.

How else can the DJ’s justify the perennial popularity of Bryan Adams, Peter Cetera and Richard Marx?

Granted I do get to hear Floyds “Wish you were here” which as drunken sing-alongs go presses all the right buttons, but this is in no way compensation for having to put my ears through the repeated torment of tracks such as “Tarzan Boy” or Rick Astley’s “Never gonna give you up”.

In fact the Stock-Aitken-Waterman production axis has never been more popular than in current day India.
Mel & Kim, Dead or Alive, late-era Bananarama, and early work Big Fun. They all swing the dance floors of the coolest bars in India together with the stock tunes of Wham!, Spandau Ballet, The Cutting Crew, The Pet Shop Boys, Deacon Blue, and Jonny Hates Jazz.

I believe there is something comfortingly in the simplicity of the music which appeals to the taste of the Indian male.
It is almost impossible for a homegrown Indian to be what we in the west would consider to be cool.

They love camp movies, they hone their dance moves in line with the latest bollywood hit (over emphasised incredibly gay-looking and usually executed with a hint of chest hair showing beneath the jewellery), they hold hands with other men and would happily be seen grooving and singing along to the Communards “Small town boy”.

Yep, this camp love of the high tempo electro-pop says only one thing to people outside of India.

G.A.Y.

1.2 Billion people and increasing?

Don’t worry you Malthusian pessimists, I think I’ve discovered a natural solution to the population explosion, and they are dancing merrily to the hits of Erasure.