The internet loves a bit of glorious nonsense. And in the realm of delightfully absurd trends, few things can compete with the enduring fascination surrounding “Africa” by Toto. This isn’t your average, run-of-the-mill appreciation; this is the kind of fervent devotion that inspires drinking games involving questionable decisions and memes that push the boundaries of common sense. It’s this specific brand of slightly unhinged enthusiasm that led a crowd of people to gather in a Madrid bar on a December Thursday night, united by a single purpose: to listen to “Africa” by Toto on repeat.
For those unfamiliar, “Africa” isn’t just any 80s power ballad. It’s a cultural phenomenon, a song as recognizable for its soaring melody as it is for its, shall we say, geographically creative lyrics. Lines like, “As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti,” have become iconic precisely because of their charming lyrical liberties.
Intrigued by this peculiar event, and perhaps driven by a desire to understand the song’s almost hypnotic pull, I ventured into the heart of this “Africa” by Toto party. Would an entire evening immersed in this one song unlock some hidden truth, or simply push me to the brink of musical madness? I had to find out.
Two friends enjoying the Africa song toto party, lost in the music and atmosphere.
Exactly how many times “Africa” played that night remains a delightful mystery. Pedro, one of the organizers, bravely attempted to tally each play with pen and paper, reaching 36 before conceding defeat to the sheer repetition. But the precise count wasn’t really the point. The atmosphere itself was the experience.
“In 2018, I was hearing the song everywhere,” Pedro explained. “It felt like the right moment to make something like this happen. And here we are, doing it for the second year.” The popularity of the Africa Song Toto event was a testament to the song’s unexpected resurgence.
As midnight approached, the bar became incredibly crowded, a testament to the draw of this unique event. Navigating through the throng to reach the stage, where a line of eager karaoke singers had formed, was a feat in itself. Each time the song concluded, the crowd erupted, chanting “Again! Again! Again!” as if the concept of repetition needed further emphasis. Of course, that was the entire beautiful, slightly absurd point. And yet, with each opening chord progression, a fresh wave of energy surged through the room as we collectively jumped and cheered, genuinely thrilled for another round of “Africa.” Every. Single. Time.
The relentless repetition of the africa song toto track began to warp the perception of time. One attendee confessed that he felt like he could have been there for either 45 minutes or six hours – the evening had become a blur of familiar melodies and shared absurdity.
“Last year, people told me that for days after the party, they couldn’t escape the song,” Pedro recounted. “A phone ringing on the bus sounded like ‘Africa’. Roadworks they passed sounded like ‘Africa’. It might be detrimental to our mental health, but if we’re happy, who cares?” This collective embrace of musical madness was a core part of the event’s charm.
The author and friends at the Africa song toto event, showing signs of exhaustion but still enjoying the unique experience.
As the night edged towards its conclusion, the effects of the “Africa” by Toto marathon began to surface. Fatigue started to set in, the price of chasing a record that, in reality, held no significance to the outside world.
“I genuinely can’t do this anymore,” declared one weary-looking individual, slumped in a corner. “My head is going to explode. I need to leave.” Even my friend Celia, while enjoying the novelty, maintained a sense of perspective. “Back home, we broke the Guinness Record for the largest gin and tonic – previously held by Snoop Dogg,” she stated, with a hint of amusement. “So, honestly, this is all a bit tame.”
Finally, at 2:54 AM, the opening notes of “Africa” filled the bar for the last time that night. A triumphant surge of energy propelled the remaining revelers 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 back into exhilaration, singing our hearts out to “Africa” by Toto as if it were the very first play of the evening, celebrating the bizarre, beautiful, and undeniably catchy power of this enduring 80s classic.
