SghubuSoundSystem is a regular sound gathering initiated by Mma Tseleng. It is part of a larger history project on Southern African musics and oral imaginaries speculations improvisations …
Our inagural selectors are:
Andile BUKA
Simnikiwe BUHLUNGU w/ Chad CORDEIRO
Mma TSELENG
PHATSTOKI
PHAT SOUND. STUNNING VIEWS. SAFE & OPEN DANCEFLOOR
More soon, I’m so excited, nuff said.
This jenni is long and glorious, swimming flying and marching through Silang Mabele in the land of Not Yet Uhuru, all the way to Msheli Wami because In Love (With A DJ): Jezebel. It is older than Thath’i Cover Okestra volume 2 in Langa, Cape Town with the PASS family and many more, when I first started working with Masello Motana: Tsodio. She is an artist warrior: she tells truth to power and ‘tell our stories with majesty’. Ntyilo Ntyilo, her vocal museum, is an incredible live South African Songbook. Its an honour to co-pilot this jenni! More power to you Masello.
9 June 2015
Do you have any early memory of first being inspired by Kwaito as a movement? Who you heard, when you heard it and what that meant to you?
I guess one of the earliest significant moments of Kwaito’s relevance in my life is hearing it via my school mates lunch break sessions, singing the songs because access to radio was scarce at the time when I didn’t have electricity in my childhood. Particularly Boom Shaka’s ‘Its About Time’ was the favourite of this 3-girl crew who would sing it everyday at school and that’s pretty much how I go to know of then latest music. That power to transport itself to me regardless of whatever was significant, it felt like a gift. To hear the song ‘Kwere Kwere’ back in ’95, before the so-called ‘xenophobic’ violence is also quite significant for me. In fact, ‘Kwere Kwere’, ‘Kaffir’, ‘Traffic Cop’ were some of those politically charged songs I was exposed to in the early days of both my life and Kwaito; hard tracks – lots of speaking out. Lots of message, advice, it was really cool to give advice with music. Sadly some of it was misinterpreted, like; ‘“Kwere Kwere” is a vulgar song’. And yet here we are today.
When did your interest in Kwaito come about? Specifically doing work and research around it come about?
Since Kwaito was my coming of age soundtrack like many SA matric class of (plus or minus) ‘98, it has been a love-hate relationship. It was an organizing tool in high school. Me and friends were literally mentored by Kwaito in our own writing of lyrics. This forced us to organize platforms for our own performances, using existing structures like schools, churches and community halls to host and perform at our own gigs. It was bigger than the classroom, way before Life Orientation and all of these, yet in post-94 South Africa. Kwaito did all of that for some of us. Yet I think I missed out on access to full albums and to YFM for a bit back there before I moved to Joburg. So since I have always wanted to be in Joburg from an early age, somewhat Kwaito and the city makes me want to share my interpretations, while catching up with past albums through my search and to play for people who enjoy my research. Real investment in the Kwaito story started in 2009 when I played music for people for the first time, at the Drill Hall rooftop. Since then, I started collecting consistently and obsessively, playing more, writing more and speaking to some Kwaito artists and those who relate to it in varying degrees. I use the name Mma Tseleng, a popular name that suggests someone who is on the road/the streets. Under this name, when I play Kwaito I never play it without a broader family tree of sounds past, current and unreleased; broader than house and hip hop, but not excluding these two. The first writing inspiration came from folks at the then YMag especially in its first year (98-99), who yanked me off the slumber of my then Drum and True Love staple-diet, before the internet.
When you think about Kwaito. What ideas about its influence as a musical genre and reach come to mind? Can you share a bit about the social-political context out of which Kwaito emerged?
The context that is widely described is that of euphoria. So it goes that the youth were tired of struggle songs, and wanted to dance. Well people had always danced, regardless of ‘whether’ the genre/song was ‘dance’. Anyway, the release of political prisoners from Robben Island, as well as the accessibility of electronic music making afforded people the opportunity to make what they like, and share it. What they like had influences from the UK and the US. Most importantly though, most of the Kwaito pioneers had greater access to the preceding sound called Bubblegum. People like Mdu Masilela, Sbu ‘Ma-Lawyer’ Ntshangase, Jairus ‘Jakarumba’ Nkwe and Mandla ‘Spikiri’ Mofokeng trained from and worked with people like Chicco Twala, Senyaka Kekana [RIP], Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Brenda Fassie [RIP]. The way I see it is like this: Kwaito was destroyed by economic factors, like all popular music. Madala Thepa commented a while back that Kwaito does not have its own underground the way one would observe with say hip hop and jazz. It only had a commercial wing, I remeber how insightful this persepectove felt to me at the time. I found it valid as I thought knew all the songs to know in Kwaito. Until I saw something else as I dug deeper. I see that Kwaito had an underground; some of the most prolific, prominent and commercially significant Kwaito making artists made underground ‘Kwaito’. In fact they called it Gong (and/or D’Gong). People like Joe Nina, Mdu, Lindelani Mkhize and Donald Duck made some very beautiful side projects that had a different sensibility to what they made for mainstream circulation. Bongo Maffin, Mafikizolo, Alaska and Skizo as well as some artists at Arthur’s 999 Music claimed Gong and D’Gong in lyrics and in album sleeve notes. These artists and those who attempted to push Kwaito to another direction could not at the time manage their vision, with the hegemony of record companies and their different, capitalist visions. I have commented elsewhere about the amazing story of Mafikizolo, a group that made; what could be called ‘underground’ Kwaito with their first album back in 1995; one of the then biggest ‘house’ tracks with ‘Lotto’; what is known as ‘Afro-Pop’ with hit albums that vibrantly returned Sophiatown back into the living; the current house-drenched latest release ‘Reunited’ of 2013 made famous by their international hit ‘Khona’. I know many find ‘Kwaito is dead!?! Quite a fatigued occupation. I agree. Freely I also believe that Mafikizolo and endless stuff coming out of South Africa right up until now is Kwaito growing. Really, if we think about it broadly South Africa is purported as 21 years old. Look at Kwaito. Look at South Africa. What had really changed? I agree with Phumla Ncgola that we have an moer lot to learn from Kwaito. South African Music Conference, an annual gathering of mammoth proportion is one of the few black owned products of this 21-year-old country, established by black co-founders of an industry they call Kwaito. This industry made a lot of money for white companies who inherited means of production, communication and consumption for the whole nation.
At the moment Kwaito as a genre is no longer as prominent as it used to be? Do you feel like it lives on in present day South African Hip Hop and New Age Kwaito? Has it lost its relevance?
Just the fact there is something named New Age Kwaito is significant in art historical terms. It means that the ‘turn-up culture’ youth of today can connect the dots to the ‘get down’ days of this struggle, post-94. In other words, the post-94 struggle of Kwaito artists is relevant, as it is their efforts that enable/d Durban Kwaito Music and New Age Kwaito to exist. Crucially, the struggle continues lest we forget. There is a sound called Durban Kwaito Music (although contested) and whether or not the New Age Kwaito/Durban Kwaito Music artists themselves claim this naming does not matter, what matters is these new developments actually reference Kwaito in their overall aesthetic, both sonically and visually. This is impact, and the impact is as much economic as it is spiritual and political. Most of the New Age Kwaito and Durban Kwaito Music artists identify with and participate/d in hip hop and house. In this sense, old school Kwaito achieves a far greater historical relevance in their own backyards without negating global influences. This way Kwaito lives, and this is the kind of living we can ever ask for. Growth. Economically, I would say it does not thrive at all but I am also not informed enough. As a researcher who plays music for an audience I receive a lot of feedback on how ‘underground’ the Kwaito I play is. In this way old Kwaito songs that are generally unknown yet sound like 2015 get a new life, a life that exist outside of popular music, also known as media. ‘Free 100k Macassette’, Okmalumkoolkat’s reliving of Mdu’s classic ‘Amabankbook’ is my current milestone in this music history classroom. Busiswa is channeling the future with this interesting video and song
And…what about?
Kwaito suffered from toxic masculinity granted inherited but this doesn’t seem to change. At least in the messaging. I hope that economically and philosophically there is a change, but this is not represented in terms of integrity of the image we see; men write women sing men make beats women dance men sing women wash men drive. The picture is skewed. Its part of much broader environment but every mshoza-pantsula must catch up with the climate out there politically, spiritually, economically and socially. Shout Out to the ‘Skeem Sam Foundation’ courtesy of Tseliso Monaheng. I would end with two songs: ‘Salute’ by Skeem and ‘Skeem Sam’ by Spikiri. Or, Brown Dash ‘Vum Vum’ and Oda Meesta with ‘Fosholo’. Eish, sounds like a playlist so it will have to start with ‘Tsodio’ by mohu Lebo Mathosa.
Kwaito is a child of many. It has many namesakes with umbilical chords buried in multiple sites across the land. Of its many names, Sghubu is king. It occurred to me recently that Xigubu in Xitsonga is a term that refers not only to the drum for pre-initiation boys, but the drum’s manufacturing process (by the boys), the study of its tonal qualities, a musical repertoire that goes with it as well as accompanying dance practice (taken up and performed by girls) up to inter-village exchanges in the form of competitions (much like inter-township pantsula ‘competitions’).
For years though, Sghubu in isicamtho spoke to Kwaito. This gets very very interesting in my study of Kwaito and South African music histories. Now that Dj Ganyani made ‘Xigubu’ in 2013, with a back-to-the-roots video set towards and in Limpopo (Giyani) with some elements of Xigubu practice, I can connect these dots. The term Sghubu continues in its trajectory, dropped in House lyrics and Kwaito-influenced urban music expressions. It is my belief that in the national collective, the term Sghubu found a home in Kwaito, although it is seemingly a concept that lives beyond any genre in mainstream terms. Elsewhere I wrestle with Sghubu as referred to in Kwaito:
The use of the term Sghubu is a claim to Kwaito’s unofficial name. Sghubu is a hardcore Kwaito banger. However, like the soundsystem in Jamaican communities, Sghubu can equally refer to a physical sound system and a headspace. Interestingly, the term has traveled with the evolution of black dance music since Kwaito, easily heard in most current House offerings.
Some people may remember the early days in the journey of what we have come to accept as Kwaito, when several names were on the table negotiating this then new sound in urban dance. Since 1993 when names flew around, Gong for me remains the underlying Sghubu sound.
Left – right: LM Jam Goes Gong Ngipompe (1999), LM Jam Goes Gong LM Jam Goes Gong! (1998), LM Jam The Second Phase (1995) and Let Mdu Jam The Other Side (1998).
Big up Lindelani Mkhize behind the spreadsheets, Mdu behind the keys, Joe Nina in melodies and many other children of Gong and D’Gong (the cousins at Kalawa Jazmee). Long live foundations of an evolving black sound.
I am battling to define in words the Gong sound, so here I offer Wa Bua from LM Jam ‘The Second Phase’ (1995).
I have this dynamic growing text/mix on Gong and how it occupied a grootman space in the House of Kwaito. Coming out now-now. Watch this space for reviews on key Gong albums with Mma Tseleng the goat of the road. Listening parties are scheduled for the summer of 2014 celebrating 10 years of Gong!
At the Alex Theatre, Braamfontein, Johannesburg
A roll-call of music concepts on drinking & dancing and singing about dancing & drinking in South African music people dance to, then and now. SA artists have over the years offered big jams on intoxication, taking some interesting perspectives on the presence of beer in our life, from political repression (Yvonne Chaka Chaka’s 80’s jam) to the politics of music itself (marabi genre of the 20’s).
In no particular order:
Looking for more, I know this is not exhaustive at all, please help with the list.
Image source: www.oneworld.co.za
Before DJ Cleo’s share of Nairobi’s dance-floors with Facebook, Yvonne Chaka Chaka’s Umqombothi not only moved a sector of the Kenyan society, but assumed new meanings in the process. So did Luanda and Lagos, the latter singing along their own rendition that refrained ‘Uphi umqombothi…‘ with ‘Looking for husband…”. Heavy, ne?
Is waar.
I enjoyed that people in Nairobi were dancing (or not) and singing (and ululating) along with/to the Ten Cities concert acts, instead of documenting with their smart-phones. Some did, and shared on Social Media in pure service to a beautiful scene (actually, I was told that I have only experienced a middle class scene, I know fokol). I dug Dj Danylo’s set, who later observed how the people took serious attention to the dance-floor, bewitched by what was supposed to be his opener set. The response to new music (and ideas) was most beautiful to experience, it was a pleasure to play music for the people of Nairobi!
Thanks to the Goethe-Institut Nairobi for a brilliant writers’ seminar and concert. I am part of a group of writers engaging with the public sphere and urban space space through the lens of club cultures in five African cities and five European cities. Together with Sean O’Toole, we are chronicling some of Johannesburg’s club cultures from 1960 to now now (a hi hat to The Chronic).
Return right here for my next post, on this very exciting topic.
Tomorrow at SKAFTIEN # 3 I will be experimenting with Simphiwe Tshabalala on drums and Tito Zwane on electric bass. This will be the beginning of a new direction for me and Tito. Simphiwe is a house DJ, and has done this before – a great help, loads of brilliant ideas coming out. Looking forward.
The experiments include breaks and cuts of TKZee’s Mambotjie and Madala Kunene’s Ubombo (Smith & Mighty rmx) amongts others, across genres.
By Kagiso Mnisi
The foremost traits from any popular angle would be that Kwaito is breed-spawning from grubby townships, wags a finger in your face, is irreverant and a head-bop-inducing soundtrack to a deviant youth, perhaps from Meadowlands, Zola or Emndeni. But what this observation aims to precipitate is that the genre has shown interesting anomalies along the way. These woven into our societal narrative with moderate enthusiasm have been a (or the) source of cultural interest – mine at least (I’m biased).
Take for instance the trio that were enveloped by the trappings of private school education at St Stithians, laden with curfews, choir practices, prefecthood, olympiads, abundant extracurricular activities and dining hall camaraderie. Yes, the threesome that evolved Kwaito to Guz had the fervour of ivy leaguers coupled with command interhouse sporting codes and the signature war cry to cheer on the resident mascot. All these privileges enjoyed by Tokollo Tshabalala, Kabelo Mabalane and Zwai Bala of the much famed Kwaito outfit TKZee, a grand ponder indeed considering that Kwaito has always been a nonsensical can’t-touch-come-ragnarok phenomenon to the highbrow. Now how close to the royal suite has the jester been, we ask?
TKZee Guz crusade roped in football star Bennie McCarthy in a track known as Shibobo, as an entree to what was to be France ’98. The song galvanised and entertained in one take, it also punted the trio as having a progressive take in the musical landscape with bravado to match. With this arsenal we were on their side as much as we were on Bafana Bafana’s. Though the ultimate outcome on the sporting field was several dismal performances on the world stage and the irksome neglect by the national coach to arm the squad with Doctor Khumalo’s footwork, we were bopping amid kan jy nie sien o Bennie maak jou maal. Yes, those Methodist school boys had us street bashing along regardless of Pierre Issa’s own goals.
But get it – when it was TKZee who took off gloves to exchange blows with Mdu Masilela in the parodied Masimbela, they had declared war against a player whom many deem a pioneer of the game. The row got pronounced after a project gone wrong while Tokollo Mabalane had moonlighted as part of Mashamplani, a group managed by Masilela under his MDU Music label. Masimbela‘s refrain goes as follows:
ne kile kwana Mashamplani/afihla’nketsetsa mathaithai/hela ntate/helantate waka/moshiman’onketsetesa mathaithai…
which sonically and lyrically unfolds how Tokollo (and Sbu, who feautures on the track) was done wrong or poorly compensated in whatever deal was struck by the A&R Mdu. Things had gone way past pleasantries, as the Ymag cover would depict a spread of the trio demonstrating their sense of triumph. As colloquial lexicon would have it, they were running the streets.
But like with all rock ’n rollers, dealings with the devil for fame have shaky repercussions. The latest fad in the TKZee camp was to binge on contraband and forge brotherhood with the maverick Moses Molelekwa. Molelekwa’s troubled keys are an exact analogy with TKZee’s dive into ‘high’ times. The story amazingly takes in its stride anecdotes such as Mambotjie, which had with it the myths on how a tokoloshe’s mischief can be circumvented by having a mattress on top of bricks. This is relayed in the song’s video starring a burly DJ Fresh trying to ward off all the miniature creatures in his room, but they were not ordinary in that Y-fm’s live and dangerous breakfast show host Phat Joe was one of them, reeling along a vinyl desk. Curfew and the obligatory mass after class was now a distant memory.
The plot would further thicken when a student from Sacred Heart College, one named Kagiso Diseko aka Gwyza, sought attention from the group and later ended as roadie. His persistence led to a feature in the self-affirming We love this place. The empire saw a need to expand operations with inclusions of Sbu and Dr Mageu. This resulted in a further addled, media loathing, dyslexic (confusing fiasco for fiesta or vis-a-vie) TKZee Family.
The mid-break clad with anomalies is not only for TKZee to claim, though! What of that Italian bella, conceived in Belgium, wanting to tread the road less traveled? Her cue should’ve been prompted by those who previously shone the scene aglitter, like Jacknife featuring a prepubescent Thandiswa, for that matter. Let us not be presumptous with Tamara Dey’s union with Oscar Mdlongwa’s younger brother, DJ Pepsi, though. But good enough suggests that they too are of the romantic musing on ‘the unlikely’. Coming through with gem What Am I To Do and the ever so mellowsome anthem Deeper, the combo had concocted an alluring formula that saw Kwaito assuming maturity.
So that is an emphatic yes – the genre has been akin to hymns sung by church-school lads just as it drove a Belgian-born songstress to skip curfew so as to club-hop with one Dj Pepsi. A far end observation from dusty streets, Yizo-esque and truant activity. Just a look at the unlikely, that’s it.
Image – notation by Nkosinathi Mathunjwa
Mma Tseleng 