We’ve been blessed with good weather! A cloudy but rainless day - rare for a Johannesburg summer afternoon - set the stage for what can only be described as a millennial fever dream. 340ml, the indie, soulful, somewhat-conscious, semi-reggae, wholly-funky South African band with Mozambican roots (yes, we’ve claimed them as our own), had us gathered on the outskirts of Krugersdorp for the first leg of their long-awaited reunion tour.

And listen, this wasn’t just a reunion for the band - who formed a solid 25 years ago and last played together in Joburg when they opened for Fat Freddy’s Drop in 2016 - it was a reunion for the crowd too. A gathering of long-lost friends, ex-varsity mates, and people last seen in high school more than two decades ago (not that anyone's counting). Nostalgia ran deep, but so did the music.

With only two studio albums to their name, you’d think the setlist would be stretched thin. But 340ml’s intoxicating blend of dub, reggae, psychedelia, soul, jazz, R&B, and techno-infused jams carried the crowd effortlessly through nearly two hours of tight, well-rehearsed musical storytelling.

The audience? Absolutely locked in. Bopping along to Rui Soreo’s hypnotic basslines, caught up in Paulo Chibanga’s dynamic, in-the-pocket drumming, vibing to Tiago Correia-Paulo’s nuanced guitar work, and hanging onto Pedro Pinto’s poetic, emotion-drenched lyricism. The band’s stage presence? Magnetic. Crowd engagement? Effortless. That rare, beautiful thing where a show feels both intimate and electric all at once.

Then came the guests. First up, Thandiswa Mazwai—who, as always, felt like she descended from the cosmos just to bless us - joined the band for a soulful rendition of "Make It Happen" (which, for the record, went multi-platinum in this writer’s household). She stayed for a Fela Kuti "Lady" freestyle jam, flipping the lyrics with a defiant, “I no be lady, I be African woman!” Because of course, what better way to celebrate Women’s History Month?

Then, in what felt like a glitch in the space-time continuum, Stogie T stepped in to perform "Movimento" from Moving, effectively reuniting Tumi with The Volume. A moment for the elders (read: everyone in the crowd).

The rain held out and let us savor this auspicious reunion. There’s just something special about attending a show full of millennials - we’re confident, we know how to pace ourselves, we’re not afraid to find a place to sit when necessary, and we like to be home at a reasonable hour. 340ml promised they’d see us again in 15 years, so alhamdulillah, we’ll be doing this all over again in 2040.

The transformation of the Ticketpro Dome—once one of Johannesburg’s premier music and events venues—into the WeBuyCars Dome, a sprawling used-car showroom, stands as a stark emblem of corporate convergence in contemporary South Africa. In 2021, the Sasol Pension Fund sold the property to WeBuyCars for R175 million, closing an era that began in 1998 and effectively turning a cultural landmark into a commercial auto lot. Where international stars once commanded stages and crowds, a Tata pickup now sits under floodlights, awaiting its next buyer. The irony is almost poetic: the very space designed for spectacle has become one itself, albeit of a different, more utilitarian kind.

Opened on 8 April 1998 with a landmark concert by Diana Ross—attended by over 15,000 fans and graced by a surprise appearance from Nelson Mandela—the venue (initially the MTN Sundome, later the Coca-Cola Dome, then Ticketpro Dome) offered a 20,000-seat capacity and 11,000 square metres of flexible space. It quickly became a favoured stop for global tours in Southern Africa, hosting a roster that reflected the market realities of post-apartheid South Africa: predominantly American and European acts catering to a minority middle-class audience, often aligned with corporate interests and international capital. Names like Westlife, Avril Lavigne, Mariah Carey, Bryan Adams, The Killers, Enrique Iglesias, Savage Garden, Sting, The Fray, Thirty Seconds to Mars, Kenny G, Lord of the Dance, and illusionist David Copperfield defined its early identity.

For much of its life, the Dome functioned as an imported cultural outpost. Only in its later years did it begin featuring artists resonant with the majority Black population—Jill Scott, Kanye West, Anthony Hamilton, John Legend—signalling a gradual, if belated, broadening of appeal. Local South African artists, meanwhile, were largely confined to support slots or corporate-backed appearances. The barriers were clear: headlining a venue of this scale demanded significant financial and social capital, which few had mustered.

That changed in 2015 when Cassper Nyovest achieved a milestone with #FillUpTheDome. Rallying his fanbase, the hip-hop artist became the first South African act to sell out the arena, transforming the event into a broader statement of support for the local music industry. Critics pointed to complimentary tickets and promotional giveaways—common industry tactics to ensure full houses for international tours—as evidence that it wasn’t a “true” sell-out. Yet such technicalities miss the point: the concert created genuine cultural momentum, exposed local audiences to high production standards, and forged thousands of lasting memories.

The venue’s closure in 2021, amid the broader devastation wrought by the pandemic on live events, drew nostalgic outpourings online. Memories flooded in—of childhood outings to Mama Magic shows (Barney’s appearances still vivid for many parents), of first concerts, of communal euphoria. But beneath the sentiment lies a sobering reality: the sale exemplifies how unchecked corporate consolidation can erode cultural infrastructure. As conglomerates merge and expand, smaller independent venues and promoters face increasing marginalisation, while historic spaces are repurposed for the highest bidder. The Dome’s fate is not unique; it reflects a wider pattern where profit imperatives override heritage, and cultural institutions become collateral in the pursuit of scale.

Yet music endures beyond concrete domes. It has always found ways to convene people—in townships, community halls, street corners, repurposed warehouses. The end of one chapter invites new ones. Artists and audiences will continue to build spaces where the music meets the people, unencumbered by corporate branding or sponsorship tiers. The lesson is clear: culture is resilient, adaptable, and ultimately grassroots. Make the music. Meet the people. The rest will follow.

The future of music distribution remains uncertain, but one truth stands clear: nostalgia is best treated as an old friend you visit occasionally—not a residence. Clinging too tightly to the past risks blinding artists and industry players to the relentless evolution unfolding around them. What we witness today are often desperate attempts to resuscitate a dying model in a world that has already moved on, almost entirely transformed.

In January 2021, retail giant Clicks announced the impending closure of Musica, the once-dominant entertainment brand it had acquired in 1992. After years of steady decline, the chain's final stores shuttered by the end of May that year—accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic's brutal reduction in mall foot traffic. Musica had already closed 19 outlets since the start of its 2021 financial year, leaving 59 trading before the leases expired and the lights went out for good.

The writing had been on the wall for some time. Musica operated in a shrinking market, displaced by the global structural shift toward digital consumption of music, movies, and games. Physical formats—CDs, DVDs, vinyl—gave way to streaming and downloads. Entrepreneurs who failed to read these patterns, adapt, and pivot paid the ultimate price: extinction.

Nostalgia tugs hard. I remember those formative mall trips as a young music lover—slipping on Musica's high-quality headphones to sample new releases, wandering rows of gleaming jewel cases stacked like buried treasure, each one a promise of discovery. It was a ritual, a sanctuary of sound in an otherwise ordinary afternoon. Those were good times.

But change arrived swiftly. Soon enough, I was downloading MP3s by the thousands—pirated albums filling hard drives in a neighbor's living room, courtesy of a Sahara computer and endless patience. The convenience was irresistible; the trips to Musica dwindled until affordability and a vague sense of obligation brought me back years later, this time to support a business that had once enriched my life.

In 2012, I stepped into the ecosystem myself. My first recorded album with The Muffinz was licensed to Just Music South Africa. The model was straightforward, if not entirely equitable. Commercial record bars and mall-based CD stores like Musica would buy thousands of units from the label at a price per disc (PPD) around R80, often negotiated down to R75 after bulk discounts. These were premium-priced discs; the hope was that album quality would justify the cost to consumers and sustain modest sales volumes rather than mass-market turnover.

The stores then set their retail price—R150 in our case. Fans paid that full amount, but the artist's royalty derived only from the label's R75 cut. Packaging, marketing, promotion—all fell to the artist and label. The remainder padded the retailer's margin.

It was a system built for geeks, obsessive enthusiasts, and those with disposable income and time to cultivate deep fandom. Purchases weren't driven by moral duty to "support the artist"; you bought because you craved the music, because life felt incomplete without it in your collection. The disadvantage was yours, not the creator's.

Streaming promised personalization—tailored discovery that could deepen fandom, turning listeners into superfans willing to invest in merch, exclusives, and affiliated products. The industry didn't foresee how modestly priced (or ad-supported) access would dominate instead, fragmenting revenue while commoditizing discovery.

Musica tried to adapt in later years, diversifying into general electronics and entertainment beyond physical media. But it couldn't outrun the tide of digital streaming and online platforms. The pandemic delivered the final blow: malls emptied, destination retail suffered, and the "inevitable demise," as Clicks described it, arrived ahead of schedule.

This isn't merely the end of one chain—it's a chapter closing on an entire distribution paradigm. In South Africa and beyond, streaming now commands the lion's share of music revenue, with platforms expanding reach even as payouts to artists remain contentious. Physical retail's collapse underscores a broader truth: adaptation isn't optional. Those who evolve—embracing direct-to-fan models, live experiences, merch ecosystems, or innovative digital strategies—will find new footing. Those who don't risk fading into memory.

Nostalgia has its place: a quiet visit now and then, to honor what was. But the music moves forward. Artists must too—creating, connecting, and claiming space in whatever form the future takes. The rows of CDs may be gone, but the hunger for sound endures. Meet it where it lives now.

Live music scenes don’t survive on stages alone. They survive in the spaces between, where people read, argue, eat, listen, learn, and slowly find one another. The cafés where ideas linger after gigs. The bookstores where movements are born quietly, before they ever become loud. Breezeblock Café, with Lit.Culture Books housed within it, is one of those rare Johannesburg spaces where lifestyle, education, and entertainment are not competing ideas, but parts of the same conversation. For Brown Band Archive, spaces like this matter. Not just because bands perform here, but because scenes think here.

Breezeblock x LIt Culture Book sits comfortably in Brixton, outside the traditional binaries of venue versus gallery, café versus classroom. It operates as a third space, somewhere between home and institution, where creative practitioners can gather without having to justify their presence.

The inclusion of Lit.Culture Books within the café deepens this role. It turns a social space into a site of inquiry. You can attend a live session, browse a shelf of African political history, listen to a vinyl DJ set, and leave with a book that reframes how you heard the music in the first place. This should never be incidental and should rather be a reflection of how creative communities actually live, fluidly, interdisciplinarily, and in dialogue with ideas.

Books, Sound, Image, Conversation

Lit.Culture Books is an independent South African bookstore known for its carefully curated catalogue. The focus is less on bestseller cycles and more on intellectual sustenance, history, art, radical thought, poetry, and the human condition. The shelves often hold, African political history and biography, Cultural theory, Contemporary radical writing and poetry Books are accessible, with prices starting around relatively low for the quality of books, and occasional discounts (which i have been priviledged to ) making serious reading less exclusionary.

Around these books, Breezeblock x Lit Culture activates the space with: Book launches and literary conversations, Art exhibitions and design-led installations, Jazz performances and experimental live sessions, Vinyl DJ sets and listening events, Film screenings and cultural dialogues
This layered programming allows the venue to host everything from intimate readings to vibrant music gatherings without losing its sense of intention.

For bands, collectives, writers, and interdisciplinary artists, Breezeblock offers something increasingly rare, a venue that understands context. Events here don’t float in isolation. They sit within a broader cultural fabric that encourages reflection as much as celebration. That makes it especially valuable for: Album listening sessions, Archive screenings and talks, Cross-disciplinary showcases, Educational activations linked to music and art, Community-facing cultural programming. In a city where creative labour is often fragmented, Breezeblock x Lit.Culture quietly models a more integrated way of working.

There are moments when a scene speaks for itself, and all you can really do is listen closely. Right now, something important is happening in Soweto. At a time when the township has just lost one of its rock standard-bearers, Thabo “Rock Ruler” Masina of Shameless, the biggest rock gathering Soweto has seen in years is coming to life, not through corporate intervention or heritage branding, but through artists doing what they’ve always done, organising themselves.

Soweto Rock Festival, taking place on 16 June 2026, with monthly activation event leading up to the finale. The first of these activations is happening 31 January 2026. An initiative led by Nathi “Automatic” from the Soweto rock band Reburth, in collaboration with Sawubona Music Jam and it feels both like an event announcement and a cultural response.

The passing of Rock Ruler landed heavily across the scene. Shameless weren’t just a band, they were proof that rock could be township-rooted, loud, political, spiritual, and unapologetically local. Their Nkabi Rock sound reminded us that distortion and rebellion were never foreign to Black spaces, they were simply under-archived.

So when a major Soweto rock festival emerges now, it doesn’t feel opportunistic. It feels necessary. Not as a tribute in name, but as a continuation in practice, living that rock kinda life... whatever that means. Soweto Rock didn’t begin on festival stages, It started in backyards, four-room houses, borrowed PAs, blown speakers, and neighbours who tolerated the noise because the energy felt bigger than inconvenience.

There were no proper venues. No infrastructure to speak of. Just young people stubborn enough to believe that rock belonged to them too. What Soweto Rock Festival is doing is stitching that lineage together, from backyard to stage, without pretending the journey was clean or easy. No nostalgia, just wits and guts,  documentation in real time.

A Scene That Refused to Disappear

The line-up reads like a map of persistence:

Reburth.
Shameless.
Twenty One Children.
The Black Cat Bones.
Drain Brain Experience.
Aura Electric.
Punk Crusaders.
And many more.

Some are established. Some are still emerging. Some may never be “commercial” in the traditional sense. That’s not the point. Scenes survive because they allow room for difference, friction, experimentation, and sometimes failure. What matters is continuity.And continuity is exactly what this festival asserts

Rock in South Africa has often been framed as something imported, marginal, or nostalgic, especially when it emerges from Black townships. Soweto Rock Festival pushes back against that quietly, with a loud genre. Remember kleva,

• Rock has always been here
  
  

• Township youth have always reinterpreted it
  
  

• Infrastructure doesn’t precede culture, culture forces infrastructure to follow
  
  

Most importantly, this shows what happens when artists organise themselves instead of waiting to be validated.

An Archive Note

Brown Band Archive exists to pay attention to moments like this, moments where scenes move forward despite loss, despite limited resources, despite historical erasure. The death of Thabo Rock Ruler is a wound. The rise of Soweto Rock Festival is not a replacement, but it is a response, one rooted in sound, community, and collective memory. From backyard noise to festival stages, Soweto rock is still roaring. And this feels like the first chapter of something that will matter for a long time.

The opening lyrics speak a tale of a father, on a brothers Grimm type epic, a father travelling, exorcising evil spirits and dragons with brothers, fellow fathers. I Interpret this is his answer to the question, "Uphi Ubaba", and damn what a great answer, certain, worthy of a hero's return... perhaps exaggerated, by the father, at least, he is there to answer for himself... which is what should be expected.... at the very least.  

The archetype of Ubaba is established, stern but kind, surveiller of his territory, perhaps unpredictable, classy, informed, orderly, cruising home on a gravel road, the car is green and looks like it runs smoothly. Like a bozza tsotsi van toeka, acknowledging the various women he's passing, somewhat, while listening to Tshata on Ukhozi Fm, a guitar approaches to meet the father as he exits the car, the sound is left behind when he shuts the door... In a classic ending of an opening scene, there is a reverence afforded to the father figure, a belt holds up powder blue brentwood  slacks, a Marula yellow collared  shirt and diamond pattern sleeveless cardigan  as he hands out treats to children upon his return... he is then clothed in dignity that cannot be bought at Rand outfitters.  In the background, Silhouettes of  train rail lines with  Apollo high mast lights leaving fixed nuggets of gold on a Soweto sunless skyline.</p>

Next frame, we are greeted with what feels like a strange hybrid of isolation  and overcrowding offered by  low lighting, close ups, deep contrasts with high shadows reminisce of hostel living and perhaps cinematically the masculine- obsessed Carling Black Label advertisements about rewards at the end of a day... Men isolated,  but together, engaged in activity, at the end of a day.  The camera is intrusive, almost gonzo, giving us intimate insight regarding the relationships men have with their hands, work and others, almost to counter the narrative that South African men's hand are for hitting. It all happens in the presence of deep shadows, men working in a darkness that they have clearly climatized to, because even in the low light, they are working, watching, erranding, socialising, interacting kindly, not being aggressive even when the camera is being intrusively close up into the affairs of the men and their isolation. For me the symbolism i extracted for myself was a joy.  And I thought Justice was done... this statement is perfectly ambiguous because the directors name is Justice Mokheli, who by doing justice to this video, outdid himself. 

Feet in tradition, head in the future, the four musicians of Urban Village raise the cultural and historical awareness of the South African township of Soweto, where a strategy of the regime sought to separate many fathers from their families and send them to mines in Johannesburg up until the 1990s... to this day there are socio economic repercussions. Through the camera work of Justice Mukheli, the video explores the daily life of these male spaces which, despite the fatigue of the circumstances, remained places of conviviality and unity.

“...Justice Mukheli, is our brother from Soweto. From the moment we discussed his vision for the “Ubaba” music film we trusted he would bring the song to life on screen. The music video shows the different roles played by father’s within society; to nurture, to care, to love, and to protect their families. Salute to all the Ubabas out there present in the house” — Urban Village.

The video culminates in men, full of vitality and music gather around a unifying fire, as the darkness of night comes as mandated by nature... they share songs, drink sorghum and eat together... Alive and Living,  perhaps an answer to the question, asked By Tubatsi Moloi the lead Singer, "...Uphi Ubaba...". It is a question that needs to be answered with a sense of certainty for our society to be secure in their abilities and being, which is a result of a Mother + Father. This certainty  will increase self esteem for the growing. It is because we've seen too many consider their lives are not optimised for their success because of strained or no relations with their father. and so the expense is made to appease the ancestors a few  blemished animals would be serve as sacrifices, because ubaba akangenzelanga umsebenzi. South Africa is a country often resigning itself to fatherlessness, often blamed on masculinity as a trashy aspect of the balance... but really this is  mostly just a  breakdown in communication within a framework and conditions not conducive for the maintenance of families as our forefathers understood... but this new condition must not be exaggerated for social media clout. The fathers are there to account for themselves, this is a call to them to "be there", where ever "there" is. The family is the first village, and with urbanisation, came a new village, I conclude, this is perhaps where Urban village gets its group name, a place where people sing and work in harmony, according to agreed social norms , even in the face of an oppressor. The video provides a glimpse of contemporary South African culture, essential today in  envisioning a future where the spirit of ubuntu takes precedence over issues of skin colour and economic interest. for all.

Their record label, No Format, French Based and highly competent, describes Urban Village as "the futuristic indie folk voice of Soweto", kinda cool aint it. In their eponymous EP, the musicians get their inspiration from the rich musical heritage of South African soil and offer an original synthesis that mixes Zulu guitars, indie folk, South African choirs, and jazz, all carried by a spiritual energy. The coming album, Titled Udondolo,  will hopefully be a journey through the times of Soweto, the people and their stories, in a dormitory town that became home, birthing and forever morphing not-so-secret societies of music where the hopes of an entire people resonate, even to this today. </p>

But You gotta Check out the Video here.

L’EP (as they say in france ) titled Ubaba is available on all "https://idol.lnk.to/Ubaba" platforms

uManyano Lwe Jazz: Boutique Vibes, Big Heart, Jozi’s Finest Sounds

In the heart of Johannesburg, a gathering is taking shape that captures something rare: the intimacy of jazz, the energy of community, and the spirit of the city itself. Welcome to uManyano Lwe Jazz (ULJ) - an independent, artist-centred, culturally driven two-day boutique festival which, now in its fourth year, returns 6–7 December 2025 at Villa Simonne Hotel, Johannesburg.

From the moment you read the tagline, “For the love of South African jazz, community, & the culture”, ULJ stakes its claim as festival but also as identity. It merges the lushness and excitement of large outdoor festivals with the close-knit, reflective, often conversational atmosphere much needed in jazz gatherings. In doing so, it creates a space for music to breathe, for audience and artist to meet on common ground.

Locating itself at Villa Simonne Hotel in Houghton Estate, ULJ's venue is stylish but not ostentatious, intimate but not cramped. The setting frames the festival: comfortable, refined, yet accessible, a back yard party almost, but with the countries, hottest and genre defying jazz adjacent artists. Weekend and day passes are available; inviting many kinds of jazz lovers to join in.
 

A Line-Up That Ambitiously Honors the Jazz and Jazz Adjecent .

In a jazz festival landscape often dominated by commercial imparetives, resulting in the abandoning of the jazz and jazz adjacent for the more crowd pulling genres on the line up. ULJ offers something rare: a chance to sit back or stand, amongst and with a diversely like minded audience, savour a definitely "ad(jazz)cent" set, then reflect on what you’ve heard, all within a consciously humane, artistry centric setting.

ULJ brings together "household names and leaders of the new school alike."This balance is crucial: the festival honours tradition while creating space for fresh voices. It remembers jazz’s past, the deep grooves, the communal jam sessions, the shared improvisation - and asks how that tradition can live in Johannesburg today.

In recent press, ULJ has been credited with “reigniting 1950s fire” by featuring artists such as Msaki, Thandi Ntuli and Linda Tshabalala, Malcolm Jiyane, Dindie on Decks and my own band The Muffinz.This kind of programming says something important: jazz is heritage to be preserved, but also a force to be activated.

What stands out about ULJ is its artist-centred model. Its website emphasises its identity as “an independent, artist-centred, and culturally driven … merging the vibrancy of large outdoor festivals with the intimacy that defines jazz gatherings.”
This approach suggests a deeper purpose to build a sustainable live music ecosystem. Not just big names for ticket-sales or "crowdpulling" as its ego-massagingly refered to, but meaningful experiences, connections, and creative integrity. For the Brown Band Archive, this resonates deeply with our own mission - documenting the live band culture, the relationships, and moments of excellence pertaining to collective creativity.

Johannesburg’s live music scene is in constant flux. Venues rise and fall, touring gets harder, and artists constantly have to re-imagine how to sustain their craft. A festival like ULJ says: we can have something real, rooted,  alive in the city... and as my experience with them proves, that "we can bank on ourselves and communities to build viable financial and lifestyle models.

 
It also matters because it opens the doors for younger promoters, stage managers, PR, podcasters, and importantly the musicians; voices that might not yet fill stadiums but carry tremendous creative power. This boutique format allows for risk, for depth, for the kind of personalised conversations committed to bringing culture alive, especially behind the scenes. something big festivals often sacrifice for scale. Umanyano Lwe Jazz is outchea walking the talk 

Let’s Celebrate This Together

Tickets are sold out, if you value listening, connecting, remembering, and imagining what the South African jazz future can be, you're in for a treat.
We at Brown Band Archive are excited to cover ULJ this year; the stories behind the music, the musicians behind the performances, the cultural ecosystem behind the event, we're here for all of it. 

LU MANYANO LWE JAZZ OLU!
For the love of jazz, community and culture. See you there.

An opposition party, the Democratic Alliance (DA) has reported the discovery of brand new musical instruments, worth R15 million, which were lying hidden and unused at various locations Around KwaZulu Natal. The Instruments, bought by the Department of Arts and Culture (DoAC) in 2013, were found at institutions including the Pietermaritzburg Museum Services, the DoAC offices in Ladysmith and Ulundi and even at the KZN Music House across the province of  Kwa-Zulu Natal. Their procurement allegedly formed part of the provincial government’s "Operation Sukuma Sakhe programme", aimed at providing skills development for up and coming artists.

The Opposition party, practicing oversight and monitoring, attempts to keep government accountable to the people whose public money is being spent in the procuring of these assets. It is being reported, the found instruments, ranging from guitars, to trombones, were supposed to have been distributed to artists in KZN. Yet, despite eight years having passed since they were originally procured, they remain in their original packaging completely unused. This discovery happens while the entertainment industry is facing the hardest knock due to government Lockdowns prohibiting movement and gatherings. Musicians have struggled not only during the pandemic but for many years prior due to a lack of adequate resources and support on various fronts. It is an unfortunate fact that music instruments are sold off by musicians who need to pay rent, or cover some other immediate need when there are no Entertainment work or even gig opportunities. These instruments could have been put to good use, particularly by the underprivileged, yet they have been collecting dust in storage for all this time.

It is important to note  at this point that Kwa-Zulu Natal plays a really prominent role in the South African music industry. This is due, I think also,  to the influence of Ukhozi Fm, the biggest radio station in the country. Ukhozi FM has a colourful history of delivering on its entertaining, informative and educating style of broadcast engagement the public. With regards to entertainment the station has promoted local content more so than any other has, of course this can be argued. But their reach alone and their influence on unofficial Music charts systems and getting melodies to ears is unmatched. This history involves the first recording of Ladysmith Black Mambazo in 1960 at its Durban studios, promoting the Soul Brothers, Abafana BaseQhudeni, Mahlathini and MaHotela Queens to name a few. 

Since The station has supported many artists to break into the industry while maintaining the prevalence of their own cultural music... I wonder what the sonic landscape of Ukhozi Fm would have been had this R15 million  worth of music equipment been accordingly distributed since 2013... Its also important that some of the biggest trends Dance and electronic music such as gqom have roots in Durban... but very little live music survives... If I had the tears I would weep for all the bands, and groups that were never formed,  All those music festivals would could had, around the country and new artists, and new sounds. Now, to deprive such a province of the means of production necessary to creatively produce and do what they have been doing since that first maskandi guitarist left KZN with a guitar and labour power, isn't only looting from the musicians, it is creating a dearth of creativity, depriving the public, the country of music. If we can argue because music is food for the soul... is this the same as starving people? 

We will of course keep tabs on this Story as it develops... The DA expects the Arts MEC Mavimbela to come clean about who is responsible for this mess. As such, they have submitted a written parliamentary question with an important Query, "Is there a secondary game plan for these instruments to be put to good use?".

Congratulations to Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness (BCUC) for being named the winner of the WOMEX 23 Artist Award!

In its award citation, WOMEX said: “With their all-embracing musical philosophy, BCUC are inherently political. Their songs are shot through with political messages and lessons. They hold high their values and social responsibilities, while being unafraid to criticise the wrongs around them. Like their music, their political perspective is uniquely South African while sharing a solidarity that encompasses the African continent and world as a whole. Even their organisation is utopian – the seven-piece collective is leaderless, each member contributing equally to the passion of the music.”

The WOMEX Award was introduced in 1999, and honours exceptional achievements in global music on the international level – musical excellence, social importance, commercial success, political impact, lifetime achievement.

An opposition party, the Democratic Alliance (DA) has reported the discovery of brand new musical instruments, worth R15 million, which were lying hidden and unused at various locations Around KwaZulu Natal. The Instruments, bought by the Department of Arts and Culture (DoAC) in 2013, were found at institutions including the Pietermaritzburg Museum Services, the DoAC offices in Ladysmith and Ulundi and even at the KZN Music House across the province of  Kwa-Zulu Natal. Their procurement allegedly formed part of the provincial government’s "Operation Sukuma Sakhe programme", aimed at providing skills development for up and coming artists.

The Opposition party, practicing oversight and monitoring, attempts to keep government accountable to the people whose public money is being spent in the procuring of these assets. It is being reported, the found instruments, ranging from guitars, to trombones, were supposed to have been distributed to artists in KZN. Yet, despite eight years having passed since they were originally procured, they remain in their original packaging completely unused. This discovery happens while the entertainment industry is facing the hardest knock due to government Lockdowns prohibiting movement and gatherings. Musicians have struggled not only during the pandemic but for many years prior due to a lack of adequate resources and support on various fronts. It is an unfortunate fact that music instruments are sold off by musicians who need to pay rent, or cover some other immediate need when there are no Entertainment work or even gig opportunities. These instruments could have been put to good use, particularly by the underprivileged, yet they have been collecting dust in storage for all this time.

It is important to note  at this point that Kwa-Zulu Natal plays a really prominent role in the South African music industry. This is due, I think also,  to the influence of Ukhozi Fm, the biggest radio station in the country. Ukhozi FM has a colourful history of delivering on its entertaining, informative and educating style of broadcast engagement the public. With regards to entertainment the station has promoted local content more so than any other has, of course this can be argued. But their reach alone and their influence on unofficial Music charts systems and getting melodies to ears is unmatched. This history involves the first recording of Ladysmith Black Mambazo in 1960 at its Durban studios, promoting the Soul Brothers, Abafana BaseQhudeni, Mahlathini and MaHotela Queens to name a few. 

Since The station has supported many artists to break into the industry while maintaining the prevalence of their own cultural music... I wonder what the sonic landscape of Ukhozi Fm would have been had this R15 million  worth of music equipment been accordingly distributed since 2013... Its also important that some of the biggest trends Dance and electronic music such as gqom have roots in Durban... but very little live music survives... If I had the tears I would weep for all the bands, and groups that were never formed,  All those music festivals would could had, around the country and new artists, and new sounds. Now, to deprive such a province of the means of production necessary to creatively produce and do what they have been doing since that first maskandi guitarist left KZN with a guitar and labour power, isn't only looting from the musicians, it is creating a dearth of creativity, depriving the public, the country of music. If we can argue because music is food for the soul... is this the same as starving people? 

We will of course keep tabs on this Story as it develops... The DA expects the Arts MEC Mavimbela to come clean about who is responsible for this mess. As such, they have submitted a written parliamentary question with an important Query, "Is there a secondary game plan for these instruments to be put to good use?".

In an unexpected but appreciated manner, South  African Tourism, in collaboration with the Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation, celebrated the legendary jazz musician, Hugh Masekela, at an event held at Dizzy’s Club at Jazz at Lincoln Center.  The highlight of the afternoon was the induction of Hugh Masekela into the Ertegun Hall of Fame, a prestigious recognition for his exceptional talent and remarkable achievements in the music industry.

South African Tourism and the Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation hosted a pre-induction reception at Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Ertegun Hall of Fame which was attended by special guests, jazz enthusiasts, and journalists, who gathered to pay tribute to Masekela’s legacy. The event honoured Masekela’s contributions to jazz music and his impact on South Africa as a cultural destination. Following the reception, guests were invited to Dizzy’s Club for the induction ceremony and special musical performances, which included select performances from Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation scholarship students from the Manhattan School of Music. Selema Masekela and Pula Twala, the children of Hugh Masekela, accepted the honor on behalf of their late father.

Hugh Masekela, fondly known as “Bra Hugh,” was born and raised in South Africa, and is widely regarded as one of the greatest jazz musicians of all time. His unique style and fusion of African rhythms, jazz, and world music have captivated audiences around the globe for decades. Masekela’s music has become a symbol of South African culture, showcasing the rich heritage and diversity of the country and inspiring travelers to experience the destination’s unique offerings.  

In 2015 Hugh Masekela established the Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation to preserve and promote our African heritage and restore our African identity through various mediums. In the five years since his passing the Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation has continued to devote energy and time to maintaining and motivating projects that Bra Hugh initiated while still with us, as well as new initiatives that fit within our mission statement,” said Pula Twala, Board Member of the Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation. “None of these projects or initiatives would be possible without the continued support, both material and spiritual, of our friends and family, sisters and sons, institutions and organizations, near and far, sharing the values that Hugh espoused, promoted and stood for.”

Speaking about the event, Themba Khumalo, Acting CEO of South African Tourism said, “We are honored to pay tribute to the late Hugh Masekela, a true icon of jazz music and a cultural ambassador for South Africa. His music continues to inspire and captivate audiences around the world, and his legacy lives on through the Hugh Masekela Heritage Foundation. We are proud to celebrate his induction into the Ertegun Hall of Fame and highlight the unique cultural offerings of South Africa as a must-visit destination for travelers seeking enriching experiences.” Visitors to South Africa can immerse themselves in the local culture through music, art, dance, and cuisine, which are integral parts of the country’s identity. The destination also offers a range of adventure activities such as wildlife safaris, hiking, and water sports, making it an ideal destination for travelers seeking unique and diverse experiences.

The event honouring Hugh Masekela at Dizzy’s Club at Jazz at Lincoln Center was a successful celebration of his legacy and South Africa’s cultural richness. South African Tourism is focused on promoting the country’s cultural heritage and diverse travel offerings to visitors from around the world, inspired by the legendary musician’s contributions to jazz and his homeland.