Music is the medicine: SA's musicians on black life and silence [part 1]
South Africans undoubtedly create some of the most groundbreaking music in the world, reimagining their stories through various forms, from jazz to skhanda and venrap, and all manner of electronic music: Bacardi, amapiano, gqom. Today, we take the time to acknowledge the invaluable influence of South Africa's musicians speaking their truths, chronicling the trials and triumphs that have brought us to the present day.
With the current global crises, as there are many, comes the exposure of some of the most harrowing unchecked realities as funds geared to buoy our livelihoods evaporate at every turn. While locked down, live music has suffered immensely, along with the sound technicians, venue owners and other supportive industries fighting relentlessly to keep our future in place. Some of our best advocates have passed away, while #BlackLivesMatter and #TheShowMustBePaused have spurred on the reimagining of the global music industry, reigniting a desire for systemic change.
But South Africa’s music industry seems eerily silent in addressing the plight of the black lives that form its fabric, while companies abroad pledge, promise, diversify and donate among themselves. The very same people we all turn to, to soothe our dis-ease and loneliness, those we expect to sing us through ill-health, difficult days and life-paths detoured, are ironically considered the least essential to our country’s well-being, and the last to receive relief in exchange for their labour of love.
It seems like South Africa has lost its voice, and we’re not sure who will speak for us or who will hear us now. So, as we open up the economy this month, I’ve asked some of the country’s creatives to open up to us – to let us know what fills the silence between the notes. If music is truly the medicine, who heals the healer?
Lazarus 'The Lazarusman' Mathebula
The Lazarusman has been speaking about racial injustice in his music since 2012, starting with 'The Blackness', a record produced with Tigerskin, and with 'The System' alongside house music co-conspirator Julian Gomes. A genre we are most proud to call diverse, electronic music is our most innovative export – and in this post, Berlin-based South African producer DJ Floyd Lavine was first to point out the lack of local support for #BlackOutTuesday. Lazarusman raised the issue again on a track called 'It Hurts', and finally released the gem 'Not Enough' with collaborator Hyenah. Seeing #BlackLivesMatter finally gain momentum, the duo released the single early on Watergate Records, and donated all the track’s proceeds to Know Your Rights Camp.
It’s hard for me to truly define what racism means to me because in a very strange way this has been a part of my life for a very long time. Racism is efficient – it tends to make its victims complacent. The current movement just reiterated the fact that this is not normal and we shouldn’t let it make us complacent. I grew up in a racist society. I heard the k-word almost every day of my life. So, I guess it has less to do with courage and more about expression, and expression is true freedom. Art has always been a way to address injustice. If we understand the history of that then creating art that challenges the norm becomes easy. – The Lazarusman
Zoë Modiga
Zoë Modiga’s latest album Inganekwane (meaning 'fairy tale' in Zulu) is probably her most poignant and timeous release yet. Inspired by the theme of self-reflection explored in her debut album, Yellow: The Novel, Inganekwane delves further into matters of identity and belonging. This 16-track Zulu fable is swelling with the wisdom of the old and the courage of the new – but all of this introspection across time and space for the black body can be laborious:
I think the #BLM movement carries through to all black people regardless of their geographical realities. One ticket out of the country and you soon realise it is a movement that is unfortunately relevant wherever you are as a black body in this world. Yes, there are particular sensitivities but the heart of the solution comes in the form of systematic changes being enforced globally, with the same fervor that systematic oppression was implemented… I feel that it’s particularly exhausting to be black when it comes to movements. Protesting is so traumatic to our spirits and psyche as we are put in the position to – yet again – remind the world that we belong in it as much as the next person. We have been at the bottom of the life chain and we are often trying to be the solution when we aren’t the perpetrators. I’m hoping that our brothers and sisters who aren’t black can actively and practically stand with us. I think black South Africans are used to being gaslighted. We have been a symbol for freedom without war, which is powerful. Though, this 'rainbow nation' effect has a lot of holes in it. In our attempt to reconcile, there’s a lot we haven’t dealt with. All this is to say, we need everyone to be all-in'with us. – Zoë Modiga
Azana
Sun-El Musician and Azana released the 'Uhuru' music video during lockdown, in collaboration with a talented local illustrator called Cyzo. The animated video covers some of the key moments and movements brave people have taken in these past few months, including #BlackLivesMatter, #RhodesMustFall and #JusticeForShoni. Losing one of our own music industry professionals, Shonisani Lethole, has been painful, and reminds us that carelessness in any form costs lives. When asked what inspired 'Uhuru' and why she still refers to herself as a queen – even in the face of the backlash Beyoncé received for the same statement – Azana said:
Uhuru translates to 'freedom.' In the song, I speak of a struggling black man, struggling both financially and socially. In my head was an image of a person who is always in need, like the black people I see daily – from a family member or neighbour looking for a job to the workers in malls, car washes, domestic workers, construction workers… a majority of them are black. The song reminds me of a time growing up when I started noticing the common difference between a black and a white child; the black children would take taxis after school and the white children would be fetched in small private cars. White or lighter skinned children would be seen as prettier while the darker ones would be called ugly and dirty. I started noticing how big and beautiful the suburb houses and roads were compared to the ones from my neighborhood where everyone is black. It made me feel like freedom was just a word. Black people are still struggling. Like mam’ Letta Mbulu has said, I say "not yet Uhuru”. 'I Am Queen' comes from a place where I am saying that I love myself enough to see myself as good enough to be whatever I choose to see myself as. My aim is to inspire people to be themselves, unapologetically. – Azana
Read part 2 here.
Commentaires
s'identifier or register to post comments