Music

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Reflect. Live. Celebrate.

We are all in our own different journeys and from time to time, we may find large boulders or other forms of obstacles in our path. However, this doesn’t mean we cannot reach our destination or even strive to go even further than initially planned.

The above reminder was encapsulated in the Sibongile Khumalo’s “Reflect. Live. Celebrate.” tour performance. A performance in which she shares her journey as she celebrates 20 years in the music industry and the legacy of her father.

The tour started here in Grahamstown at the National Arts Festival. The next stop will be Cape Town, then it will move/end in Johannesburg.

This tour performance is really a must-see-performance for any of Sibongile Khumalo’s fans. It is music across genres morphed with poetry and good old fashioned storytelling. In a nutshell, it is a spiritual performance, literally with a few gospel numbers — her own compositions yet to be recorded — and other numbers that simply reinforce the idea that music is the food for the soul!

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Disposable Hero

Disposable hero is one of my favourite Sankomota’s songs, albeit I try not to listen to it a lot. It is melancholic yet very enjoyable. Like a pendulum, it causes my emotions to swing from one extreme end to another: from wanting to seriously weep for days for humanity to deliriously wanting to jump up and down with no care in the world.

The song is a special tribute to a soldier who fought in World War II — a relation of Frank Leepa. Of course, this fact is not explicit in the song. I imagine because the grand idea in telling the story of this one soldier, is to acknowledge all other soldiers including those who fought other wars and/or belong(ed) to liberation armies.

The song, as aptly captured by its title, is about the dispensability of soldiers when it comes to fighting any war. As bravely suggested in the song, soldiers go to war as disposable heroes or mere pawns that may or may not be crowned. Thus, whether driven by patriotism or conviction, soldiers go to war ready to make the ultimate sacrifice: to die fighting. Unfortunately, as also suggested in the song, this doesn’t preclude the possibility of “silly jokes” being made at their expense by superiors who attend “parties with fat English ladies” or “drink whiskey all day long”.

Listening to some of these statements from the powerful and magnificent voice of Tšepo Tšola has an extremely sobering effect: the very kind that makes me want to weep for humanity. More so, when I get reminded in the song that there is a mother (or a loved one) who is staring at “faded photographs on the wall”; presumably waiting and praying for one of two things: the war to end or their beloved to return home safely.

Despite the apparent undertones of melancholy, I still find the song to be enjoyable. In my opinion, what makes it enjoyable is the gentle tempo that holds one’s feet more or less rooted to the floor until towards the end when Tšepo Tšola commands to be listened to; completely and totally unaware of how captivating and powerful his voice is. This very unawareness drives me into a frenzy that forces me to euphorically chant the chorus to the very last beat.

Alas, once the chanting ends, I wonder about my own morality as I will myself to swing to a restful place emotionally. And shameful as this may sound, this takes pushing away thoughts of disposable heroes in our midst, living “disillusioned” lives as “broken souls … with backs turned against the wall”!

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Frankly in Awe

When I desire a downtime with some hint of enjoyable intellectual stimulation I listen to Sankomota. I started this ritual not so long ago while feeling a bit homesick. And I continue with it because I am on a very private quest to truly appreciate and/or understand Frank Leepa.

Baholoane (elders) have always declared that he was a (musical) genius, but the ‘ageist’ in me took the declaration with a pinch of salt. I believed he was good but thought the use of genius was a stretch; precisely because baholoane, true to their nature, weren’t keen to explain/justify/defend their declaration.

Now, here I am; ready to read from the same page as baholoane – or rather, sing the same tune with them! How and when did I get to this place? This is rhetorical; destiny has beckoned me to where I am. The question is: can I differentiate myself from baholoane and provide an explanation, however flawed, of why I think Frank Leepa is a genius?

For me, his genius lies in how he imbues latent messages into his (or more accurately Sankomota’s) songs. I think it is absolutely awe-inspiring. Listening to a song like Obe you find melody and lyrical depth encapsulated by humour, wit, sarcasm, irony and whatever else you can think of. Of course, this all depends on interpretation!

Obe: Ode of note

Obe for those who may not know is based partly on J.P. Mohapeloa’s literary works. Obe is a beast that a girl meets for the first time after entering married life. The first part of the song is about describing this beast from the girl’s perspective. It is also about her reaction and the response of the knowing adults. The second part of the song is a plea to humanity, requesting a change for the better. This plea is very powerful, in part because of the wonderfully heavy voice making it: Tšepo Tšola’s voice!

Distinguishing the parts is trivial: the first part is in Sesotho while the second is in English. The triviality, in a small way, contributes to Frank’s genius. What spells it for me (in a big way) is how he fused the two parts together. I personally give him credit on two main counts:

  1. For the instrumentals that transition the listener from one part to the next. For me, these instrumentals create an exceptional bridge that allows me to pause and soak in the sounds from different musical instruments, float with each note, but still remain grounded in the harmony of sounds created in concert of each other.

  2. For the crafting of the overall message, which can simply and elegantly be reduced to: “Make love not war”! Once you understand what each part is about, the clue for making the reduction (or rather deduction) lies in the second part of the song. Specifically, it is embedded in the following words (or at least based on my interpretation): “You are robbing each other. You are killing each other. […]. There must be some way to bring this change. Why don’t you reach out and touch somebody’s hand?“

Malala Pipe: Dream of hope

In Obe, Frank is a force in the background. To appreciate his genius/talent both in the background and foreground, I believe no song does it better than Malala Pipe. Beyond writing and working on the arrangement of the song, in its performance he leads in every sense of the word. The guitar, his instrument of choice, dominates and he, not Tšepo Tšola, leads the vocals.

What makes Malala Pipe an absolute work of art is its simplicity. The message of the song is simple yet profound. Hearing the unmistakable voice of Tšepo trail behind gently and powerfully in the background enhances the message even further. Conviction as a word and emotion get personified through Frank’s voice. In my mind, this allows one to see Frank Mooki Leepa in a whole new light that also cements his calling in life.

Apart from getting to enjoy the authentic voice of Frank in Malala Pipe, there is a layer of depth for those of us who expect a little hidden treasure from his songs. For me, the treasure is buried in the chorus: “Umalala, Malala pipe; Umalala, Malala pipe no more”. This roughly translates to “you sleep in the trenches; you sleep in the trenches no more”. An in-context translation yields an interpretation suitable to satisfy two kinds of people: those whose luck has run out entirely and those with lady luck still on their side but have not yet self-actualised.

I certainly admit that for those in the latter group, to get an appropriate interpretation, the chorus may need to be unpacked a bit. Mainly in that every individual has to be connected to a pipe laid down as a conduit to channel God’s love and purpose for each one of us. But unlike ordinary pipes, we need to self-actualise, hence the statement “Malala Pipe no more“. I could attempt to justify how I got to this interpretation, but I think the lyrics of the song say it all – and perhaps, in a small way, also reflect why I am frankly in awe of the late Frank Mooki Leepa:

I believe
you were born for greatness
the light in your eyes
is a spark of God
I believe oh, oh,
a child is born with a heart of gold

Umalala, Malala pipe
Umalala, Malala pipe no more

I believe
man was born for greatness
and the light in his eye is a spark of God
I believe oh, oh,
Oh oh, a child is born,
with a heart,
a heart of gold

Umalala, Malala pipe
Umalala, Malala pipe no more

© http://frankleeparevival.com/THEMESSAGELYRICS.html

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String me up

Yesterday I went to a jazz performance by Selaelo Selota and (ntate) Ngwako Manamela. Lets just say because of the vibes, it was indeed a hot night in Grahamstown 🙂 .

At one point of the show, I really wished I were a guitar to be played. I had this sense that through it, I could go on this journey of an untold destination, which I felt as I listened to the music. I guess whoever said that music was the food to the soul was correct because what I felt transcended my physical being. Hence this feeling I had of wanting to go to an untold destination. (And of course, by subtle implication with Selaelo as my companion because ntate Ngwako simply invoked an image of my own father!)

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Simply Acoustical Delight

Yesterday I went to see two performances: Simply Blue and Acoustic Soul. Both but in different ways qualified as music to my ears.

Simply Blue is a group comprising of 12 boys from Bishops College, Cape Town. There were fairly good though I felt they were a bit under-rehearsed. I loved their repertoire. However, I didn’t love the fact that each time they didn’t know what to do with their hands they thought putting them in their pockets was the coolest thing to do. I imagine that is possibly cool but I am from that generation where such behavior would have been discouraged by sewing together their pockets …finish and klaar!

After the Simply Blue performance which was good enough to end anyone’s blues, I went to see Acoustic Soul. They were excellent! I went there specifically to see Injairu perform. Seeing her was like watching a woman who has found her voice and her calling in life. She looked ultra beautiful and confident on stage. It really seemed like she had gotten her answer about her calling by having a face-to-face conversation with “Mmopi, Mmoloki, eena ea kalletseng maru”; I am talking about the one and only Alpha and Omega called by which ever name you are comfortable with.

Injairu rocked so did each member of that group. I am merely putting emphasis on her because I was filled with so much pride seeing her perform. I guess to me she was like a flower at spring time blossoming for the first time; in my eyes she ceased being just the baby of the Kulundu’s family.

That said, the entire Acoustic Soul performance was very soulful. I left there feeling a bit poetic and without any doubt whatsoever that a higher being exists though it may be understood differently by different souls.

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Chronicling the Arts Festival

The Grahamstown National Arts Festival has began. I thought it only fitting to start my own chronicles of this year’s event by offering a review of a show named “Chronicles”. (All pun intended ;-))

Chronicles is actually a student production but you would be forgiven if you thought otherwise. It is a contemporary dance piece by Tshwane University of Technology (TUT) chronicling various emotions that we all share as human beings. There was love, passion, sadness, joy and everything else in between that carries the hope and courage to live yet another day.

The first piece, Wallflower Diaries, was about a girl, I imagine about my age, who has read enough romantic novels to last her a lifetime but is still yet to find love. You see the young playful side to her as she evolves to a sexy and sensual being holding on to hope that her perfect other will eventually come. The music together with the sexy black numbers helped a lot in terms of appreciating this evolution. If not that, I guess it must be that I am sold to the idea that French and Spanish music is synonymous with love, passion and all that is sexy :-). One important thing to mention is that there was realism even though the girl was waiting for her perfect other to come. The girl was under no illusion that the ‘tall dark and handsome’ type of a guy exists as they do in novels. This idea was portrayed beautifully by tearing out pages and showing defiance to anyone who might dare suggest lowering one’s standards/expectations! (I am not sure how many could relate to this but I could precisely because I am at that age where others seem to think my being single means I am delusional in my expectations of the perfect guy and yet I expect three things: 1. he must be the right guy for me; 2. he must be the right guy for me and 3. he must be the right guy for me.)

The second piece, I think it was titled Death of Dreams or Memories. This piece was very profound. It was about letting go of old dreams, mourning them and being totally liberated to pursue what the present and future have to offer. Again the music was also instrumental in helping to convey the message. Personally, it took the music together with the dance to fully appreciate that tentativeness that one has after experiencing loss and disappointment. I am talking about that slow urge to move on with life but not quite knowing what and where to go. Then discovering later that you can find liberation in the decision that you made (right or wrong) and eventually you might just learn to be content for who you are not who you thought you might be. As I said, this I found to be a profound piece and because of it I understood why people say life is a dance.

The third and last piece of the chronicles was titled English for Immigrants. It was about loyalty. Watching it, I got reminded of an old TV show called ‘mind your language’. The piece also invoked the imagery of miners doing the gumboot dance, yet the actual dance that was being performed was very different. I found this very interesting because this created a familiar connection to how song and dance are used by immigrants to maintain focus as they work towards a better future for them and those left behind. This focus ultimately is what breeds loyalty that is so strong that elements of patriotism also come to the fore.

To finish off my posting, Chronicles is certainly a must watch performance. It will remind you that dancing through what life has to offer is better than simply sitting it out!

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15 Days of Amazing

The 15 days of amazing was truly amazing! I enjoyed a lot of paint work on the streets and all the crafts. Much of what I saw affirmed that this continent has a lot of talent. However, there is a need to cultivate innovation. Many of the stalls tended to have very similar art work. For example, if there were, say 50 stalls, then more than half of them would have paintings of women with clay pots on their heads. Believe me, there were lovely! But with some, it felt like one was seeing replicated work that seemed to suggest that the artist had far more potential than reflected on their paintings, if only they were to try something else or dare I say play with more colour!

I also attended a few shows. I went to Sibongile Khumalo with Danilo Perez and attended the gala concert. These were excellent but I am not sure if that had anything to do with the fact that I was with my two beautiful sisters – Shono and Fila. I really had fun! Sibongile is truly captivating and Richard Cock is a wonderful conductor. Part of his charm is that he is comfortable in his own skin, and at his age, he understands that he has very little to lose. Trust me, he is not that old, but frankly: “ho hole mo a tsoang, ho haufi mo a eang”. (Translated with a bit of context: in his journey of life, it is far where he is from and near to where he is heading. In other words, he has run the distance and all that awaits him is ….[hint is from the bible])

In support of Injairu, I went to watch a street performance from a group of disadvantaged youth comprising of street kids. They demonstrated a lot of potential. What I liked the most was their use of rubbish as their metaphor. This was intended to convey the message that what one regards as rubbish to another, it is something more. Part of what they did to convey this message was to tailor their costumes using plastics and all sort of rubbish. They also made musical instruments with it. They used cans and filled 2 litre oros containers with whatever that would produce a rattling sound. Overall, I was really moved. I was reminded of the sesotho saying: “le sehole se setle ho ‘masona”! Translated with a degree of political correctness, this means each child is precious to their mother able bodied or otherwise! In part, I guess this saying came to mind because I realised that the metaphor extended beyond creating environmental awareness to appreciating the humanity of the street kids. I know sometimes it easier to see them as potential thieves, but the truth is that, to someone else, they are precious. Injairu I commend you my sister with your efforts. It is people like you that give humility a new meaning. Keep up the good work and soon I shall be assisting but not on the artistic side…(yes I know that is an obvious ‘duh’ but had to say it nonetheless).

I am trying to keep it short but with so much amazement how can I? I also went to see Judith Sephuma unplugged. Wow, she truly was unplugged! She sang a few of her own songs and songs by other wonderful and gifted artists. Her line up included the following: There’s music in the air; don’t let the sun go down me; wind beneath my wings; cry, smile and dance; etc. I enjoyed every bit of it. There was even a touch of gospel…talk about music being the food for the soul!

As the icing on my cake, I also saw Hugh Masekela and Sibongile Khumalo perform in a musical called: Songs of Migration. It was mind blowing; Hugh not only can he play his trumpet he is still capable of getting right down to the floor when he dances. I wonder how many people beyond 60 can do what he does? Well back to the point, he and Sibongile demostrated that they were multi-talented. They narrated, conducted and sang wonderfully!

This musical is really really worth seeing — all of the people on stage including the band were clearly gifted! I don’t want to deprive anyone the pleasure of enjoying this musical but just so you know what it is about let me offer you a taste… As the name suggests it is about migration. To be exact, songs that capture different scenarios of people who have moved from their native land and the realities of their day to day lives and that of their loved ones left behind. These songs conveyed a number of things using the many languages that South Africa has. For the simple reason that I am not good with languages I didn’t understand many of the songs. However, this does not mean I couldn’t follow! That truly was the beauty of it all! Whatever the language we all as humans share the same emotions. When we are separated from our loved ones be it because of the politics of the day or to seek employment in the city, we worry and experience feeling of longing. Hence, why we may visit our favourite drinking holes (aka shebeens) to numb our pain. Or perhaps sit around and laugh at it all by imitating our so-called bosses or those in our new environment. Yet other times we allow ourselves to be in a complete state of denial. Why? Because it perfectly human for us to want to be in denial. Denial allows us to convince ourselves that we are not the forgotten. Our loved ones will write to us those letters that we so desperately long for. Even if it is obvious that those letters are not forthcoming, denial becomes a companion of hope. And we cling to that hope, on the one hand, because we love them and pray that love will conquer it all. On the other hand, we cling to hope because we are battling with the reality of returning empty handed should things not workout as hoped for. Blah blah blah! I really cannot unpack the whole production but given an opportunity to see it again I will.

Overall, my 15 days of amazing were amazing but I can’t capture it all. Next year I think I will attempt to blog each day. So that I don’t end up lacking the energy to describe wonderful performances like one by the Wits choir – diverse, well conducted, and simply marvellous.

People do visit the Grahamstown arts festival, it is absolutely inspiring to say the least. God willing see you all next year. Much love and peace to all!

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On Being a Black Liberal Feminist

I am one of those people who has an appreciation for music. Not just any music! I am talking good old music which embodies so much depth in it that a song you have listened to before can in one moment become so profound that you wonder to yourself if you really ever got the meaning before.

Today, as I listened to Guilty by Gladys Knight. I thought to myself: I can relate, Amen to that! Then I proceeded to Google for the lyrics but was unlucky with my search 🙁 . My motivation for Googling for the lyrics was that I finally found the words that describe me being a black liberal feminist. That is, I duly accept that I shall remain black and female. Therefore, all that I can ever do is to challenge myself to lead a life that is liberated in thought. A life where if I can think it then I can do it with God’s help and those that believe in me. And a life where I need not feel apologetic for declaring myself as a feminist because indeed I am!

Below are the stanzas that talked to my heart:

Yes, I am guilty of so many things. I have been desperate for the love and joy that I know life should bring.

I am guilty, yes I am guilty! Guilty of doing without social acceptance, proper respect and the essence of what life is all about.
I am guilty of being at war in a world where riches determine your worth not the measure of ones character, as it should be down here on earth.

So go on and sentence me and set me free because I know you cannot see that I am guilty for just being me. I am guilty of love and hating, just the same as anyone else. …

Its two strikes against me when I come out to bat; one strike for being female and one strike for being black. So I stand tall through it all! My Helper [this] because I know I will be female and black till the day I die! ….

As you can see from the last quoted stanza, being a black liberal feminist means I literally have a single shot otherwise its game over for me – or as they say: “strike three and I am out” !