Profoundly South African

It’s a balmy evening in Cape Town and a crowd is dribbling into formation on Loop Street; early arrivers staking claims to the scattered tables of Alliance Française (while its humble kitchen dispatches slivers of quiche to those in the know). Red lights warm a stage draped in an ethnic rug; a still-life with wood and strings. Steve Newman, Errol Dyers and Hilton Schilder are shooting the breeze in the wings, their toils having culminated in the body of music they’re about to stamp on the unconsciousness of those present for the launch of their album.

This extraordinary combination of Cape Town musicians evokes the spirit that brought Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin and Paco de Lucía together for Friday Night in San Francisco. However, unlike the virtuosic Jazz-Flamenco trio of the early 80s, Newman, Dyers and Schilder have concretised a theory for their union, appearing as All in One and gathering their recorded material under the same name. Moreover, while prescribed structure and precise execution makes Friday Night beautiful, All in One channels its power in the process of playing and finds its voice when separate contributions become indistinguishable from the new compound that’s formed; when the trio becomes what they call themselves.

Taking the stage, Newman, Dyers and Schilder exude the tempered confidence of seasoned craftsmen. That this is a profoundly South African cast, there is not doubt, but there’s also a shamanistic air that hangs about them. This could be attributed to the psychedelic drawings that adorn the stage; perhaps the white robe over leather chaps of their creator, Schilder (replete with eyeliner and Mohican). Perhaps it’s Newman’s ponytail, resembling a seafaring rope, or Dyers’ beanie, which gives him the weathered look of a cosmic fisherman. Despite appearances, that these men are at least conjurers is confirmed when the music begins.

The two sets are characterised by sonic tapestries that reference Flamenco Rumba, Gypsy Swing, Tango, Maskanda and Goema. In addition to Newman’s selection of exquisitely crafted guitars, instruments featured include curiosities like the rain stick, the mouth bow and the melodica (and even the manner in which the three wean sounds from their tools is novel). Each performer also commits a solo offering to the show, which sees Newman stroking inlays on the face of his guitar to produce the sound of a kalimba. Dyers brings a dirge to the table while Schilder’s piece, albeit acoustic, carries the aesthetics of Prog Rock.

All in One provides an engaging performance and All in One (Swett Shoppe Records) is an dazzling album. The combination of styles, instruments and influences tethered to a raw improvisational approach has produced something that bespeaks the true nature of Ubuntu. When diverse sounds unite, the result is something more than the sum of its parts. It’s a motherless sound because its origins are blurred. They may be the old guard but this is a new sound for Cape Town.

Clicks:

• All in One MySpace Page
• Community: All in One Facebook Page
• Alliance Française Cape Town: Cultural Events Page
  

Share This

They may cut in on you or even run off the road but the minibus taxi, the ubiquitous emblem of South African transport, is no less than a profoundly South African icon. In fact, minibus taxis are moving monuments to South Africa’s entrepreneurial spirit. Deregulation wrenched transport from government hands in the late 80s and unleashed a minibus tsunami that surged through the Madiba Years and now sees privateers pocketing the fares of over 60% of South Africa’s commuters. In a country characterised by great diversity, a ride in a minibus taxi may just be the national experience that most of us have in common.

Taxi Jam is what happens when you mix a minibus commute with music and slap it onto a new media platform. The smallest gig in town, it’s a website that features performances by South African artists shot in the back of taxis. If new media is about mobility, Taxi Jam is creating content that mimics the way we consume it. The site showcases seamless slices of musical art that have shed the shackles of high production and been posited into the realm of the mundane. The effect is strangely paradoxical: a private performance in an intimate location that everybody with an Internet connection is invited to experience.

There’s also something of an unplugged ethic informing Taxi Jam. The empty minibus is a democratic stage and performers have only their charm and raw talent to draw on. As such, Taxi Jam provides the opportunity to see different artists in the same naked context. Such is the platform that new dimensions of the musicians are revealed and familiar songs are bathed in compelling unfamiliarity. As the camera pans away from a performance, catching glimpses of motorists and pedestrians through the taxi windows, we’re reminded that that life goes on when music happens. Bands aren’t just totems that live out our fantasies on stage and in music videos but rather a part of everyday life. Taxi Jam proves that artists inhabit the same stinky spaces that we do.

The best thing about Taxi Jam is that the project is born out of an uncomplicated interest in music and a desire to provide an alternate platform for recognised as well as fresh talent in all shapes and styles. Taxi Jam producers, cousins Richard and Simon Wall, describe the project as a labour of love and tip their hats to London’s pioneering Black Cab Sessions. They’ve unpacked the project in Cape Town but are interested in collaborating with production teams as far and wide as Joburg and Dubai. “We’ll shoot artists, musicians, poets, performers and anyone who blows us away,” says Simon, “Anyone can hop on board.”

Share This

“How long shall you carry that burden on your shoulders? How long shall those tears keep running down your beautiful face? We all have troubles now and again, know what I’m saying? No matter how hard we try, trouble will find us one way or another. People had trouble since the Pope was an alter boy. People had worries from when the Dead Sea was only critical. Hear those drums rolling. Listen to those guitars skanking. Put a smile on your face. Don’t let the troubles get you down.”

Clicks:

• Beautiful Faces: Rattray/Phala/Dube
• Feel Irie: Live 8 Performance/Lyrics

Share This

It’s September in the year 1979. Five months have past since the Last King of Scotland fled Kampala and Emperor Bokassa has just been extracted from the Central African Republic. The President of Equatorial Guinea is being tried for genocide and Nigeria is weeks away from its Second Republic. South Africa is currently suspected of conducting a nuclear test with Israel in the Southern Atlantic Ocean. In seven month’s time, Zimbabwe will be born.

It’s September in the year 1979. Three years have past since hundreds of Sowetan kids were killed by South African police during protests against legislation that enforced the use of English and Afrikaans as languages of instruction in “black schools.” Right now, a profoundly South African woman is introducing a song to a Dutch audience at Varra TV Studios. “It’s a Xhosa wedding song,” she explains, taking her time.

“Everywhere we go, people often ask me, ‘How do you make that noise?’ It used to offend me because it isn’t a noise, it’s my language, but I came to understand that they didn’t understand that Xhosa is my language and that it’s a written language. We use the same Roman Alphabet in writing it. The only difference is that we pronounce certain letters differently.”

47-year-old Miriam Makeba is on top of her game. She discharges a volley of crackling Xhosa vocabulary to the delight of the crowd. She finds humor in the sombre subject of South Africa and its languages: “Now, I’m sure everyone here knows that we in South Africa are still colonised. The colonisers of my country call this song ‘The Click Song,’ simply because they find it rather difficult saying ‘Qongqothwane.’”

Clicks:

• The 1979 Varra TV Studios Performance (Described Above)
• A Phenomenal Performance at Bern’s Salonger (Sweden, 1966)

Share This

Profoundly South African singer-songwriter Koos Kombuis stirred up a storm in 2006 with a whimsical tune entitled “Fokkol.” The free download sapped the width of thousands of broadbands from Worcester to Wollongong. The song paints a bleak picture of South Africa. A tour guide’s monologue from the year 2010, the lyrics lament the plight of a fallen country and fanatically expose its ruins. Smug expats were thrilled. Homecoming revolutionaries were indignant.

The song also appeared on a YouTube offering entitled “The New South Africa” (above). It was given English subtitles and accompanied by a montage of dystopian imagery showcasing the hack Movie Maker skills of a certain “sweetlove3ten.” While the song is described as “hilarious,” it should have been given the tag satire rather than parody. Nevertheless, most of the 314 comments generated by the video’s 58,860 views (circa the date of this post) push the idea of humor aside and vent an even more dire glimpse of the state of the nation.

“Fokkol” has been embraced with enthusiasm by those seeking to confirm their pessimism about South Africa. Those in denial want to pillory Koos Kombuis for being unpatriotic. Few seem to realise that they are responding to a work of science fiction. The monologue, after all, performs an imaginative time warp that gives the song its satirical edge. The lyrics simply suggest that tour guides in 2010 will have lots to talk about what little the country has to offer.

Nevertheless, satire is also directed at the tour guide’s bleak and critical eye. Will South Africa’s poor self-esteem go so far as to infect those whose task it is to take visitors to our places of national pride? Has seeking signs of failure become a South African fetish? Mind you, the guide in question speaks in Afrikaans, which suggests that he must be addressing a group of South African expats. Perhaps they’ve returned from exile to indulge in what they expect to be a World Cup disaster. Perhaps their tour guide is telling them exactly what they want to hear.

Clicks:

• Related Channel 24 Article: The New South Africa?

Share This