This article originally appeared on VICE Spain.
I have a deep appreciation for a particular kind of foolishness. Not just everyday silliness, but the truly spectacular kind that gives birth to drinking games that involve setting your own hair alight, or memes that result in accidental concussions.
This taste for glorious stupidity is likely the only explanation for why dozens of people would choose to spend a Thursday night in December packed into a Madrid bar, all to listen to the same song over and over. And that song? “Africa” by Toto – a modern anthem, celebrated for its iconic melody as much as for its wonderfully questionable geography, with lyrical gems like: “As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti.”
Curiosity, and perhaps a touch of that appreciated stupidity, led me to the bar – to witness firsthand if an entire evening dedicated to a single song could unlock some deeper understanding of it, or simply push me to the brink of madness.
Two anonymous friends really living it.
Truthfully, no one kept an accurate tally of how many times “Africa” played that night – not even Pedro, one of the organizers, who initially tried to mark each play with pen and paper. He gave up counting after 36. But the exact number was never really the point.
“In 2018, I couldn’t escape the song,” Pedro explained. “It was everywhere I went. It just felt like the right moment to make something like this happen. And here we are, doing it for the second year.”
And so, “Africa” filled the bar, relentlessly. As midnight approached, the venue swelled with people, making movement a challenge, let alone joining the queue of brave souls waiting to sing along on stage. Each time the song concluded, the crowd roared, “Again! Again! Again!” Though entirely unnecessary, given the premise of the night, the enthusiasm was infectious. And every time those familiar opening bars began again, a wave of joy erupted, with jumps and screams accompanying the first notes – without fail.
The constant repetition of the Africa Song By Toto had a bizarre effect: time itself seemed to lose all meaning. One person confessed they felt like they could have been there for either 45 minutes or six hours; the reality was completely blurred.
“Last year, in the days following the party, people told me they couldn’t get the song out of their heads,” Pedro recounted. “A phone ringing on the bus sounded like ‘Africa.’ Roadworks they passed sounded like ‘Africa.’ It might be damaging to our mental health – but if we’re happy, does it even matter?”
The author with two friends.
It’s worth noting that as the night drew to a close, the relentless repetition began to take its toll. The price of pursuing a record nobody cared about started to become apparent on people’s faces.
“I’m done,” declared a rather worn-out individual slumped in a corner. “My head is going to explode. I need to leave.” My friend Celia wasn’t overly impressed by the feat of endurance either. “In my hometown, we broke the Guinness Record for the world’s largest gin and tonic – previously held by Snoop Dogg,” she stated, “So, honestly, this is small fry.”
Then, at 2:54 AM, “Africa” began to play for the final time that night. Triumphant, the remaining devotees surged onto the small stage. Shirts were discarded, voices were hoarse, and the freezing Madrid air awaited us outside in less than four hours when our alarms would sound. But in that moment, none of that mattered. We had somehow looped beyond exhaustion and were singing along to “Africa” with the same fervor as if it were the very first play of the night, celebrating the bizarre brilliance of the Africa song by Toto.
