With an incredible 15 albums under his reggae belt, he has proved himself one of not only South Africa’s, but also the world’s greatest reggae superstars. A man not only of superb musical taste and genius, but an artist with a message, a reason and a rhyme behind everything he does. Following in the incredible success of his last album ‘Soul Taker’ Lucky has once again outdone himself with his latest release ‘The Other Side’ - a thought provoking musical journey bound to once again make enormous waves in the music industry.

At the age of 18, Dube joined the Love Brothers, a band formed by his cousins which performed the traditional Zulu music known as Mbaqanga. While still a schoolboy, Dube and the band recorded their first album at Tear Records in Johannesburg (now the Gallo Recording Company). When the album was released, the group called itself "Lucky Dube and the Supersoul." In 1984 he released a mini-album called "Rastas Never Die" but it did not sell as well as expected. However, he continued to release commercially successful albums - in all, he recorded 21 albums in Zulu, English and Afrikaans and became South Africa's biggest selling reggae artist.

The event was organised by Bethann Hardison, a model from the 1970s who formed her own agency that helped launch the careers of Ms Campbell and Mr Beckford, one of the highest paid male supermodels. "In the past decade the black image has been reduced to a category - she is not even to be seen; she has become invisible," Ms Hardison said.

Bin Adam, who was born in Tanzania, joined the then colonial German East Africa services when he was 10 years old and served with the army. He emigrated to Berlin in 1929, where he immediately got into trouble with the authorities by walking into the Foreign Ministry and demanding his outstanding service pay. Although his request was refused, he decided to stay, working as a waiter in hotels and taking small parts in films. He had roles in more than 20 movies with stars such as Zarah Leander, Hans Albers and Willy Birgel, even after the war broke out. He also taught Swahili at the Oriental Workshop.

Born in utter poverty, James Brown became the ultimate self-made man, whose work ethic was topped only by his rhythmic innovations and musical genius. As an activist, James Brown never meant to overthrow the republic -- just find room in it. He sang his bootstrap manifesto: "I Don't Want Nobody to Give Me Nothing (Open Up the Door I'll Get It Myself.)" He was a patriot who could chopper to 'Nam to succor the brothers marooned there, then embrace Richard Nixon. His musical calls to social justice were not as eloquent as Martin Luther King Jr.'s speeches. But they were equally heartfelt. James Brown leaves a cultural wake as wide as his dear friend Elvis did. It took three services and as many wardrobe changes to send him to Jesus. The Augusta, Georgia, public funeral, broadcast live on CNN from the recently renamed James Brown Arena, took the form of a soul revue: tremulous thanks from Michael Jackson and dance moves by MC Hammer, along with a cape for the open casket. His singular life, begun in unspeakable Jim Crow-era poverty, careened through phases of great fame, wealth, disgrace and redemption. He saw it this way: "My story is a Horatio Alger story. It's an American story, it's the kind that America can be proud of, but yet if you tell it in detail, if you tell all the things I fought to make it, it's like the Satchel Paige story."

To be in the audience when James Brown commences the James Brown Show is to have felt oneself engulfed in a kind of feast of adoration and astonishment, a ritual invocation, one comparable, I'd imagine, to certain ceremonies known to the Mayan peoples, wherein a human person is radiantly costumed and then beheld in lieu of the appearance of a Sun God upon the Earth. For to see James Brown dance and sing, to see him lead his mighty band with the merest glances and tiny flickers of signal from his hands; to see him offer himself to his audience to be adored and enraptured and ravished; to watch him tremble and suffer as he tears his screams and moans of lust, glory and regret from his sweat-drenched body -- and is, thereupon, in an act of seeming mercy, draped in the cape of his infirmity; to then see him recover and thrive -- shrugging free of the cape -- as he basks in the healing regard of an audience now melded into a single passionate body by the stroking and thrumming of his ceaseless cavalcade of impossibly danceable smash Number One hits, is not to see: It is to behold.

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