The music industry writes its share of tragedy; careers swallowed by obscurity, addiction, or simple bad luck. But buried in those same archives are stories that move in the opposite direction: the forgotten artist rediscovered, the fallen star reclaimed, the voice that found its way back. This series explores some of music's most remarkable second acts. Tina Turner did not just stage a comeback; she invented the very template of the modern musical resurrection. By the late 1970s, she was arguably a spent force in the eyes of the industry, a nostalgia act relegated to the vending machine culture of hotel ballrooms and variety television. She had escaped a brutal, decade-long partnership with nothing but 36 cents and a Mobil credit card, spending years cleaning houses and relying on food stamps to support her four sons. Thankfully, the 1980s provided the oxygen for her reinvention. Moving away from the R&B labels that sought to pigeonhole her, she rebranded as a rock icon, the black grandma who invented dad rock, as some critics affectionately noted. With the release of Private Dancer in 1984, Turner achieved what was previously thought impossible for a woman in her mid-forties: global superstardom. This wasn't a fluke of the algorithm but a triumph of technique and sheer human will. Her voice, a mezzo-soprano of wallpaper-peeling power, found its home in the stadium-sized amplification of the era, proving that a creative soul could indeed be reborn after the fire. Carlos Santana’s career was functionally extinct by the late 1990s. Despite his legendary debut at Woodstock and early chart-toppers like Abraxas, he found himself without a recording contract and seven years removed from his last album. The industry largely viewed him as an artist past his prime, yet he privately felt a masterpiece was still inside him. This musical drought ended through a strategic reunion with his original mentor, Clive Davis. The result was the 1999 release of Supernatural, a collaborative project that paired Santana’s signature guitar with contemporary stars like Rob Thomas and Lauryn Hill. It was the ultimate resurrection, securing a record-breaking nine Grammy Awards and spending twelve weeks at the top of the Billboard 200. This comeback was not just a commercial victory; it set a Guinness World Record for the longest gap between number-one albums in history: twenty-eight years. By blending his vintage Latin-rock fusion with modern pop sensibilities, Santana did not just rediscover his audience; he introduced his melodic, soulful playing to an entirely new generation. In South Africa from 70s to the 90s, Rodriguez was more than a musician; he was a ghost story with a perfect bassline. We all grew up on the crackle of Cold Fact, genuinely believing the lurid rumors that he had self-immolated on stage or shot himself in front of a live audience. It was part of the myth of the Sugar Man—the elusive prophet from Detroit whose albums flopped in America but became the subversive, anti-establishment hymnal for a generation of young South Africans looking for an exit from the apartheid mind-trap. Of course, the real resurrection didn't occur in a cemetery, but on a primitive internet forum in the late 1990s. When it turned out he was alive, working demolition and living in a derelict house he bought at a government auction, it felt like discovering a legend was actually a real person living in the suburbs. Thankfully, the 1998 tour proved he wasn't a hologram. Him stepping onto a stage in Cape Town, remains the most visceral moment of musical redemption I've ever even heard of. It was the ultimate "long-term relationship" with an artist we all finally got to meet.

Go down enough rabbit holes and the music industry reveals itself as a graveyard of genius; brilliant, genre-defining artists who shaped much of what we love and received almost nothing in return. Some never knew their own influence. Most never saw a fair wage. This series exists because their names deserve to outlast their obscurity. Because naming them matters. Because perhaps, just perhaps, telling these stories honestly means we make it harder for the industry to pull the same trick twice. There will be many parts to this series. Sadly, there may always be. Big Mama Thornton is the foundational grit beneath the polished floor of rock and roll. She is the ultimate unsung hero because she provided the raw, unadulterated template for the genre's most iconic vocalists while being systematically denied the spoils of her own genius. Whether she was growling through the original 1953 recording of Hound Dog (yes, that Hound Dog), a performance that spent seven weeks at the top of the R&B charts, or wringing the life out of her self-penned Ball and Chain, Thornton commanded the stage with a presence that was decades ahead of its time. Unsurprisingly, the music industry of the 1950s was less interested in her raw Blackness than it was in the sanitized, more profitable versions of her sound. She received a mere 500 dollars for a record that sold millions, and she spent much of her later life in the shadow of the superstars she inspired. Her 2024 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is less a gift and more a long-overdue debt repayment to a woman who was the heart and soul of the American sound. The number 10,000 is typically reserved for odometer readings or the population counts of small towns, yet it serves as the conservative estimate for the recording sessions of Carol Kaye. She is the unheralded architect of the American ear, providing the melodic spine for the Beach Boys, Ray Charles, and Frank Sinatra. For decades, she operated within the Wrecking Crew (though she maintains the elite collective was actually called the Clique) serving as the invisible hands behind the Billboard charts. Despite this monumental output, her name remained a footnote to the public during her peak years. The ultimate indictment of this historical lag arrived in 2025 when the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame finally offered her a Musical Excellence Award. In a move that signaled her lifelong disdain for industry platitudes, Kaye flatly rejected the honor. For a technician who redefined the bass as a lead instrument, a late-stage participation trophy felt less like a celebration and more like a willfully perverse exercise in rebranding her actual history. She remains the ultimate guide for those who value the visceral human touch over the machine-like efficiency of the hall. Blind Willie Johnson stands as the definitive unsung hero of the American sound, a musician whose gravelly, falsetto bass reached the stars while his feet remained firmly in the dust of the Jim Crow South. In the late 1920s, his debut recordings for Columbia actually outsold the legendary Bessie Smith, yet he lived as a jackleg preacher, busking on street corners with a tin cup tied to his Stella guitar. Today, his fingerprints are across the DNA of modern rock; his inspired guitar playing and soulful delivery provided the blueprint for icons like Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, and Eric Clapton. The ultimate irony of his legacy is the distance between his earthly end and his celestial reach. While Johnson was denied a hospital bed and died in the ruins of a burnt-out home, his masterpiece, Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground, was selected for the Voyager Golden Record. He is currently our most distant ambassador, hurtling through interstellar space as a representation of human suffering and loneliness. His life was a powerful indictment of his era’s inequalities, yet his music remains a truly unique experience that bridges the gap between the visceral and the divine.

Tricky Dicky is best known for the Watergate scandal. Arguably (though don't argue it, them's the rules...) the least successful of the American presidents, certainly the only one not to serve his full term while still being alive, made one of the most scientifically important decisions of the 20th century. The story goes that at a time of post Apollo (how badly the Moon landings set back space exploration is another discussion) and Vietnam war induced budgetary tightness, NASA came to the notoriously fiscally conservative Nixon administration with the proposal for a extremely long range probe. One that could only be sent to a once every 175 years when there was an alignment of the outer planets. Nixon said (I paraphrase): “175 years? In that case let's send 2!” Thus, apart from instructions on where to find us to any alien species that might stumble upon these, they also have some parts for, and instructions on how to build a record player. And, so 2 golden records are amongst the only human artifacts to have left the solar system. This is the start of the story of what's on those disks, technically a galactic mixtape, complete with nudes (and more) and our address (which does go some way to explain the spate of probings after voyager 2 lost contact in summer '23). Apart from images engraved on and included within the analogue grooves, there are 31 tracks across 2 golden disks intended to be a multimedia message in a bottle into the void. There are 3 greetings across 55 languages, 1 combined with whalesongs, and 1 track of sounds from Earth. There are 8 Western Classical tracks (3 Bachs, 2 Beethovens, Mozart, Stravinsky, Holborne) and 16 that may be considered what would have been 'world music' from the days of music stores. These are discussions for other articles. There are just 3 mainstream songs from Jazz, Blues and Rock: Blind Willie Johnson — "Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground" Johnson’s 1927 recording is a wordless moan that bypasses language to represent the universal ache of loneliness. Now, it serves as our primary ambassador for human vulnerability in deep space. Tragically, Johnson received no wealth and died penniless in the ruins of his burned home—ignored while alive (an oversight of cosmic proportions). It is the "night" of the soul in pure sound. Louis Armstrong and His Hot Seven — "Melancholy Blues" Melancholy Blues showcases the expressive potential of a solo trumpet reaching peak human creativity. Of course, this isn't just about technical mastery; it’s a report on the "state of the genre". Armstrong’s lines float with luminous warmth (effortless, really), transforming sorrow into something life-affirming. Selected to represent soul across cultures, it remains a generous gift. Chuck Berry — "Johnny B. Goode" Two seconds in and the architecture of rock ‘n’ roll is already built. Berry’s 1958 anthem represents the electrification of sound and the adolescent spirit of a changing world. Unsurprisingly, this riff-driven muscial paragon remains our most recognizable interstellar musical export from the 20th century. It’s the definitive DNA of rock 'n' roll, heading for the stars. Debate as you like the merits of each of the songs and choices, and moreover what wasn't there, given that the space craft took off in 1977. You should know that even Chuck Berry almost didn't make it, with some on the committee saying it was too adolescent. Carl Sagan replied: "There are a lot of adolescents on the planet." The detail and care was rounded out with the producer of the record, previously the editor of Rolling Stone magazine, Timothy (not Tim, a different Timothy) Ferris taking the time to etch a miniscule, poignant message in the blank spaces after the end of the tracks: “To the makers of music—all worlds, all times.” So in the age of music videos what are we putting on a video disk to send to the cosmos, and which one comes second after the rickrolling?

In amongst fixing random bugs, there's been some significant addition of content. For example there are: Baseline countries for all 170 odd, and my fancy flags (yeah had those disc thingies made many many years ago). 10 countries with detail. 150 odd cities, in those 10 countries, with detail and many with pictures. Around 20-30 clubs in a large city in each of those countries. Cape Town London Dubai Barcelona New York Tokyo Berlin Warsawa Paris Stockholm Istanbul Around 350 events across 3 of those cities, quite a few of them weekly recurring events. An additional 100 odd restaurants in Dubai, along with their weekly brunch options (120 odd of the events). A baseline of artists and groups as defined by the top 100 selling and top 100 streamed at https://chartmasters.org/. This is: ~60 groups and ~340 artists (clearly the numbers don't add up, I've not only taken the top selling solo artists, but added the main members of each of those groups) there are 150 odd albums with a number of the groups. We remain committed to the grass roots, but it's a lot easier to find the top selling artists of all time that the grassiest rootiest (that's a phrase now) artists. The majority of the artists are not officially associated with the groups yet. Additionally genres need to be added to practically everything, this includes artist roles. Venues generally need coordinates for location searching and maps. Probably noting a few better developed listings in the links below. Always happy for anyone making contributions.

People like to categorise, it's part of our pattern seeking brains. And, with the modern access to instruments in general and electronic music in particular there is an astounding variety of music out there to be categorised. But are there really 6000 music genres? Looking at you Spotify. Also, trying coding that! Speaking of coding genres, there is an idea floating around to have sub genres, which could be interesting. And there's the ever present problem of one person's uplifting trance being anothers progressive house. I don't think they overlap, so pretty sure someone in the conversation was wrong. What about Chill out or say lofi chillstep? Metalcore or Hardcore Punk? Jazz Fusion or Progressive Rock? Folk Punk or Americana or Alt-Country ? Why the Overlap? Cultural and Regional Influences: The naming of a genre can depend on local scenes and traditions. For example, a beat in one region might be labeled as “garage” while another might call it “breaks” based on regional club culture. Evolving Production Techniques: As technology evolves, so do production techniques. Artists experiment with new sounds that don’t always fit neatly into one genre, leading to hybrid styles that defy strict categorization. Subjective Listening Experiences: Listeners and critics bring their own experiences and biases to the table. What one person hears as an ambient chillout track might be experienced by another as a relaxed version of chillstep, making the genre labels a personal choice as much as a technical one. Doubtlessly sparking a debate, these are the genres we are starting with: Baroque Classical Contemporary Classical Opera Choral A Cappella Film & Video Game Scores Traditional Jazz (Swing, Dixieland, Bebop) Free & Avant-Garde Jazz Fusion Jazz Smooth/Contemporary Jazz Blues (Delta, Chicago, Texas, British Blues) Electric Blues Soul R&B Gospel Rock Classic Rock Hard Rock Progressive Rock Psychedelic Rock Punk Post-Punk Hardcore Punk Alternative Rock Indie Rock Grunge Emo Shoegaze Glam Rock Heavy Metal Classic Metal Thrash Metal Death Metal Black Metal Gothic Progressive Metal Metalcore/Deathcore Industrial Nu Metal Synthwave/Retrowave Glitch Chillout/Ambient/Downtempo Eurodance Turntablism/Scratching Dubstep Afro House Amapiano Breakbeat Club/Dance Deep House Drum n Bass Electro Electronica Funky House Hard House Detroit Techno House Indie Dance Melodic House & Techno Minimal Progressive House Psy-Trance Tech House Techno Trance UK Funky Acid House Balearic/Euphoric French House Garage Happy Hardcore Hard Trance Hardcore Hardstyle Italian House Oldskool Hardcore Speed Garage Tribal House African Tradtional European Tradional North American Traditional South American Traditional South Asian Middle Eastern East Asian Oceanic/Aboriginal Honky-Tonk Outlaw Country Folk Rock Cowboy Music Cajun/Zydeco/Creole Reggae Dancehall Ska Funk Disco Chiptune/8-bit Music Novelty/Parody Music New Age/Healing Music Spoken Word Holiday Music Probably will get called out by a few people into niche parts of dance music (I'm well aware of the flavours? Of psytrance and harddance (starting to seem like just add core to a word and it's a sub-genre) for example), Jazz and Metal, and look forwards to hearing from experts. All part of our musical edumacation. So for the discussion: What are your favourite genres? Based on our current options What's your favourite genre that's not even vaguely mentioned? Are there any genres with too much over lap from that initial listing?

After what seems like a lifetime of coding the new site is up. Upgraded and expanded. Starting from a clean slate, although will pull some old data where necessary, you're welcome to add. What's new? A looooot! I'll list some highlights, and go into depth in an edit of this article once I've made a few more tweaks to what makes me twitch. Firstly everything has been brought onto the latest technology, it's fast and secure. The entire site is now on a custom wiki system for adding, but this is backed up by elegant reporting of digital vandalism and locking records that are as complete as possible (with descriptions still to voting for the best one). Multiple genres for venues,events,artists that blur/cross boundaries, searchable of course. Integrated maps, allowing searches on genres within an area. Granular detail on group members for the superfans. Lyrics and links to songs. Country and City detail and pages Detailed ratings of most record types Becoming a fan Custom recursive (nested) comments A shiny new forum (this is all said with the wild assumption that you'll know what was here before, but that can be discussed later) There is already some great info that can be kept and shared across the entertainment forms. What else is still instore? Even more, (see that v0.45 is where we are right now). Have a look at the FAQ, there'll be a lot of questions answered there, and links to where you can make your (valued) input. For now it should be friends, family (framily) and friends of friends. Let's try stand by the slogan: We are Underground. Of course nature of the internet you may have stumbled upon us and then hopefully we will be friends in the end, you're still more than welcome.