Thirteen Hours

an issue. Now all of a sudden it's sexual harassment.' Again the hand on the head, a gesture of uncertainty. He fiddled with the silver earring and then leaned forward quickly, a decision made. 'Everyone knows Adam had a thing for women. And they loved him for it, I'm telling you. Fifteen years ago I was promoting and managing tours for pop bands and I heard the stories way back then: Adam had Xandra at home, but that wasn't enough, he wanted more. He came and asked me to join AfriSound, as full partner, to do production and promotion. He told me: 'Willie, just so you know - I like women.' He wasn't ashamed of it. But harassment? That's a load of crap. Of course he had a go. But he never told a woman he would offer her a contract if she slept with him. Never. He would listen to demo CDs, or go to a show, and then he would say yes or no. 'You've got potential, we want to sign you' or 'no, you're not a fit for us.' I'm telling you, there were singers who tried it on with him, who just walked into his office, all tits and legs and make-up and fluttering eyelashes and he would say straight out: 'I'll nail you, but I won't sign you.''

'I'll nail you,' Dekker savoured the term and thought the whiteys really had their own language.

'You know what I mean.'

'What about the harassment?'

'A year ago, Nerina Stahl had a huge offer from Centre Stage and all of a sudden the papers were full of how Adam had harassed her ...'

'I'm not sure I understand.'

'Nerina Stahl... the star.'

Dekker shook his head. Never heard of her.

'You probably listen to Kfm - they are missing the Afrikaans boat altogether.'

'Five-FM,' said Dekker.

Mouton nodded as if that explained it. 'Adam made her. Four years ago she was singing ...'

'You're talking about Nerina Stahl?'

'Yes, she sang for McCully in an Abba tribute, a month in the Liberty in Johannesburg, a month at the Pavilion, one of those shows that come and go. Adam went one evening. Pretty girl, cute voice - young, she was twenty-four then, comes from Danielskuil originally, or Kuruman ... If we hadn't made her she would have been selling houses for Pam Golding in Plattekloof, I'm telling you. Adam took her out to lunch and told her she could have a solo career. She signed that very afternoon. We got her a boob job and Adam translated a bunch of German pop songs and we spent a bit on a music video. That CD went to twenty-five thousand and two years later she was on that huge show, Huisgenoot Skouspel. She still had a year to go on her contract with us when Centre Stage offered her more and she went to the papers with the fucking sexual harassment story, because that was the only way she could get out of her contract. Then there were three others who jumped on the bandwagon, two has-beens ...'

'Mr Mouton ...' Dekker made a gesture indicating he should slow down. 'Centre Stage?'

'It's a rival label. They only had English acts before the Afrikaans wave and then they tried to steal people from other labels. Nikki Kruger went over to them, and the Bloedrivier Blues Band. And Ministry of Music. But Nerina came up with this harassment suit.'

'And so there were other women who came forward?'

'It was just for the fucking publicity. Tanya Botha and Largo, they both bombed and so ...'

He saw Dekker's frown. 'You know, bombed, sales took a nose dive. Tanya went all deep suddenly, her first two CDs had been covers, we developed a nice sound for her, but suddenly she wanted to sing her own stuff, all pain and suffering, and nobody wanted to listen to that. And Largo ... I don't know, I suppose her sell-by date had arrived.'

'And did they also accuse Adam Barnard of sexual harassment?'

'Front page of Rapport.'Sangeresse span saam teen seks', Singers Speak Up Against Sexual Harassment, or something.'

'What was the nature of Nerina Stahl's complaint?'

'A load of rubbish, I'm telling you. All about how Adam could never leave her alone, couldn't keep his hands off her in his office, wanted to take her home with him all the time, but everyone knew Xandra was sick at home and that wasn't the way Adam operated.'

'And then?'

'We told Nerina she could go and the storm was over. Tanya Botha and her lawyer sat down with us, we offered her thirty thousand and she was happy with that. I see she's launching a gospel CD now for some or other new label. Everyone's singing Afrikaans gospel now, the market is hot.'

'When last was there any talk of this?'

'I'm not sure ... only every time the newspapers have nothing to write about. Regardt?'

'It's been quiet for the last five or six months. But now that Adam is dead ...'

'Can you imagine what a circus it's going to be? And no one will remember that he saved the Afrikaans music industry.'

'How so?' asked Dekker.

'Nobody has done more for the luisterliedjie than Adam Barnard. Anton Goosen maybe ...'

'What is the luisterliedjie?'

'It was before your time, early Eighties. But you have to understand the scene in those years. In the Seventies Afrikaners just listened to fluff... Jim Reeves, G Korsten, Min Shaw, Groep Twee, Herbie and Spence ... pop, like 'I love, you, I love you' lyrics. It was the golden era of Apartheid and people didn't want to think, they just wanted to hum along. Then along came Anton Goosen and Koos du Plessis and they wrote original stuff, great lyrics ... In any case, they talked about the Music and Lyrics Movement, don't ask me why. Or just the luisterliedjie, because you had to listen to the words, you couldn't just hum it. In any case, Adam was in his twenties, working for De Vries & Kotz, one of those gigantic legal firms, but he wasn't happy and he was crazy about music. He listened to everything, the pubs, the small clubs, and he noticed there was all this raw talent, but the big record labels were not interested; they only wanted the big stars. Then he discovered Xandra. Did you know Alexa Barnard was a major star?'

'I heard ...'

'He resigned his job and started AfriSound, signed Xandra and a few others. He got hold of the best songs and he marketed them cleverly, because he knew that was the future. They did OK. Not great, but they did more than survive and then came Voelvry, and he played both sides of the fence ...'

' Voelvry? Like in 'free as a bird'?'

Mouton sighed. 'Have you ever heard of Johannes Kerkorrel and Koos Kombuis?'

'Yes.'

'They were part of it. That's where I began, touring with one of those guys. We slept in kombis and we didn't have a studio or a label. We sold tapes out of the back of a minibus in the late Eighties. I did everything from driving the van to trying keeping the guys sober, buying food, building sets, fixing the amplifiers, putting up posters, collecting the ticket money .. .Those were wild days, it was great. Voelvry was protest music in Afrikaans, you know, against Apartheid. The students bought into that like you wouldn't believe, in their thousands, while mom and dad in the suburbs were listening to Bles Bridges' love ballads. This new wave happened right under their noses. It was then that Adam came to see me - that's when we began to work together. We were the men who made Voelvry legit. We gave them a label that took them mainstream, with management and marketing and promotion. It just got bigger and bigger and just look at Afrikaans music now. In the last five or six years it has exploded because the language is under threat, and all the papers can write about is harassment, I fucking ask you, or about that 'De la Rey' hit, but few people listen to the whole CD. Do you know most of the songs are about sex and booze?'

'What songs?'

'On the 'De la Rey' CD.'

Dekker shook his head, thinking before he replied: 'Did Adam Barnard say anything during the past week about a DVD?'

'What DVD?' There was genuine surprise.

'Any DVD.'