News & Reviews

Its All love, L.O.C. a review of a night out in the city.

It started with an industry chat invited by Lwansta — one of those raw, necessary sessions where we all disagree passionately about "best practices" in a scene that's still figuring itself out. Sustainability is the word on everyone's lips, but bursts of real success keep flickering through for a handful of bands. By evening, it spilled into an open mic/vum structure showcase, and the venue was absolutely packed. The kind of packed where anyone outside the mass feels insignificant — and that's exactly how it's supposed to be. When the lights dim and the music hits, the only thing that matters is what's happening on stage. Everything else — the city noise, the debates, the worries — fades.But Johannesburg being Johannesburg, I was also watching my pockets. Pickpockets and bolder crooks love a crowd like this. Phone secure, wallet tucked, one beer I promised myself. Just one. I wasn't trying to drink too much; I was there for the music. And the music was so good it tested every rule.I'd been ready to slip out, feeling a bit old in this sea of young souls, when someone recognized me from The Muffinz. "There's a band playing here inspired by The Muffinz," they said. I smiled, thinking it was just small talk — the kind you offer when you're feeling small in the crowd. But then another peer from the scene appeared in the mass, and that convinced me to stay. I was wearing Muffinz merch, speaking at the event as a band man — it felt appropriate.Then a band member from L.O.C approached to greet his friends (who I was now standing with). "Biko," he said, extending a hand. The handshake collapsed into one of those awkward fails — the wrong grip, the wrong timing. Everyone froze for a second. I insisted: "Nah, let's try that again." We did, and it landed perfect. Laughter erupted. He moved on to greet my peer and his friend with an elaborate, multi-move handshake that lasted a solid 12 seconds — pure choreography, rehearsal evident. I joked about my insistence on retrying: "I instinctively knew I could be better than that." More laughter, the kind that feels like truth.Biko glanced at my t-shirt, said he loved The Muffinz — one of his favorites — then did a double-take at my face. He completely lost it. His friend grinned: "See, I told you." And just like that, we were talking beautifully — about sounds, influences, the grind. The invite to watch them came, and wow.They were incredible. Young, fearless, immersive. The Lerato Orchestral Collective* turned the stage into a ritual: orchestral swells meeting punk edge, maskandi rhythms weaving through psychedelic haze and soulful jazz. It was a collective meditation — improvisation that felt alive, electronic textures that surprised, voices that carried love (Lerato) like a promise. The crowd wasn't just watching; we were part of it. The mass of bodies, the heat, the shared energy — it rendered everything outside insignificant. My one beer turned into... well, let's just say the music won.In that moment, watching L.O.C* — Lesedi's commanding vocals, Biko's thunderous drums, the guitars locking in — I felt the thread. A new generation picking up the sounds we built, twisting them into something fresh yet rooted. It wasn't imitation; it was continuation. Legacy alive in real time.That night was refreshing because it reminded me why we do this: not for the debates or the sustainability talks (though those matter), but for the burst when the stage lights up and the music connects souls. In a packed room in Jozi, where pockets are watched and beers are rationed, L.O.C* proved the scene is thriving — one perfect handshake, one killer set at a time.

How will the scene fill the void ? RIP Rock

The Johannesburg live music community is mourning the passing of Thabo “Rock Ruler” Masina, drummer, vocalist, performer, and one of the defining architects of Soweto’s “Nkabi Rock” movement. He left us on 4 December 2025, but the pulse he created , the sound, the spirit, in community — will continue to echo across stages for years to come. We at Brown Band Archive carry a particular memory of him. In April this year, Shameless Band joined us as collaborators at Living Life Live, bringing an energy that reminded everyone why bands remain one of the purest expressions of collective power. On that stage, Rock Ruler was exactly what his name promised: precise, explosive, inventive, and fully alive.

A Pioneer of the Soweto Rock Revolution

Thabo Masina was not just a drummer, he was a movement in motion. As a founding force behind Nkabi Rock, he helped shape a genre rooted in contradiction and truth: the grit of rock, the tenderness of township soul, the urgency of lived experience, and the rebellious insistence that Black South African musicians can redefine any genre they touch. He could anchor a rhythm, lift a chorus, or abandon the script entirely when the moment demanded fire. As a vocalist, he held a raw and grounded power that gave Shameless their unmistakable DNA.

From Bo-Zahara to Ba di Katara: A Teachable Moment for the Live Music Economy.

The Johannesburg live-music scene is experiencing an unexpected moment of public drama and in a way, it might be one of the most important conversations the scene has needed.

A tribute event originally titled Bo-Zahara, intended to honour the late guitarist-singer Bulelwa “Zahara” Mkutukana, recently became the centre of a tense public disagreement between her family and the independent organiser, Le’s Occasions. After criticism from the Mkutukana family regarding the use of Zahara’s name without their involvement, the event was renamed Ba di Katara; “the guitarists.” The show will continue, the artists will perform, but Zahara’s name will no longer appear.

For us in the live-band/music ecosystem , an ecosystem built on community labour, borrowed resources, mutual upliftment, and artists holding each other down through the gaps - this moment reveals more than just conflict. It reveals how fragile and misunderstood the grassroots scene still is, and how easily outside narratives can erase the work, values, and survival systems that actually keep it alive.

The Reality of Our Scene

What most audiences don’t see is that the live-music circuit is not a high-budget, guilt-free industry. It is a patchwork of artist-run initiatives, side hustles, and community-driven economies where:

Artists often subsidize their own shows

Organisers are typically fellow musicians
Admin teams are made of freelancers and temporary workers
Funding, when it appears, is inconsistent and rarely enough to sustain all hands involved
most shows survive on trust, favours, and shared purpose rather than profits.

In this context, a guitarist curating guitarists, or a singer organising a tribute for a singer, is not unusual - it is the backbone of how this culture has stayed alive. The scene reproduces itself because artists see each other, make space for each other, and create platforms that government departments, labels, or families do not always have capacity to hold because, there isn't enough financial incentive... but artists will do it for the love and a little bit of coin.

The Zahara Question

Zahara was not just an Afro-pop artist - she became an archetype, for guitar strumming and songwriting commercial success... Her success gave young township especially female guitarists a new point of reference, something to aspire to, something to believe in. For many Black musicians, she represented possibility.

The intention behind the original concert title, Bo-Zahara, was to acknowledge that lineage: that a generation of Black guitar-playing singer-songwriters long existed beofre Zahara but are seen and valued, instead of being erased because SHE existed.

But when a family feels excluded from a tribute, their pain must be respected. Their grief is legitimate, their concerns about exploitation are understandable, and their role in protecting her legacy is valid.

Still, the sudden removal of her name shows the deeper problem:
our grassroots scene has no shared language or protocol for honouring our icons.
We operate with passion and goodwill - but without the clear systems that protect both families and organisers, both legacy and community practice.

The Renaming: Gain and Loss

With the renaming to Ba di Katara, something important has been gained, the event can go on without conflict, and the focus broadens to celebrate guitarists as a collective tradition. But something has also been lost: A moment to publicly affirm Zahara’s influence through the artists she inspired - without commercial packaging, without major industry structures, simply through peers continuing the work she began. The absence of her name means the absence of her symbolic presence, even though the artistic lineage she shaped remains on stage.

Opportunity for Growth

This controversy is not the end of anything, it is the beginning of a necessary industry conversation:

How do we honour artists who have passed on?
What does “permission” look like in a grassroots ecosystem?
Who has the right to commemorate cultural icons?
How can families, artists, and organisers collaborate instead of clashing?
And most importantly: how do we build a sustainable scene where memory, lineage, respect, and community coexist?

Because the truth is this:
Our scene is artist-led, artist-funded, and artist-sustained.
It is not a machine eating artists for profit, it is a fragile communal organism kept alive by gig economies, shared resources, and people doing the work that formal institutions don’t.

Moments like this expose the tensions, but they also expose the truth.

There is a vibrant Black live-band culture.
It is resilient.
It is generational.
And it is worth documenting clearly and honestly.

At Brown Band Archive, that’s the work we are here to do.

Umanyano LweJazz and the art of the Jazz line-up.

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.

The Pan-African Polymath Who Played the Changes... A Tribute to Morabo Morojele

"...We often throw around the term “Renaissance man” for anyone slightly multi-talented. But in Morabo Morojele - Lesotho-born jazz drummer, novelist, and development scholar - we had a genuine article..." - wrote Gwen Ansel as a tribute for The Conversation.

Morojele, who passed away on 20 May 2024 at the age of 64, lived an extraordinary life across disciplines, achieving excellence as a musician, writer, and thinker. His life and work matter deeply to us at Brown Band Archive, because he represents the kind of layered, Black artistic life that too often falls outside the narrow boxes the industry (and history) prefers.

Born in Maseru, Lesotho in 1960, Morojele came of age across several geographies - Swaziland (now Eswatini), London, Johannesburg -and in each place he left a mark. While studying economics at the London School of Economics, he immersed himself in the city’s African diasporic music scene, playing with legends like Julian Bahula and Ghanaian saxophonist George Lee. Returning to Lesotho, he founded Afro-jazz bands like Black Market and Afro-Blue, and collaborated with groups such as Sankomota and Drizzle.

After relocating to Johannesburg in 1995, his career flourished in South Africa’s evolving post-liberation jazz scene. He played with giants like Zim Ngqawana, Herbie Tsoaeli, Andile Yenana, and Marcus Wyatt - becoming part of the groundbreaking quintet Voice. Their residencies at The Bassline helped define a generation of South African jazz, and Morojele's signature drumming — described by Jazz scolar and writer Gwen Ansel as "... tight, classical swing meets visceral, breathy sound effects..." - became a recognizable pulse in Johannesburg's sonic memory.

As powerful as his rhythm behind the kit was, Morojele’s voice on the page hit just as hard. His debut novel How We Buried Puso (2006) was a moving, musically-infused meditation on loss, memory, and political disillusionment in Lesotho. His second novel, The Three Egg Dilemma (2023), unfolded in a dystopic landscape haunted by memory, dictatorship, and the supernatural. For this, he won the University of Johannesburg Prize for Writing in English.

In both books, as in his drumming, Morojele never left his political commitments behind. He was pan-African to the core; a development scholar and consultant who understood systems, but insisted on imagination and creativity as tools of resistance and survival.

Morabo Morojele’s name deserves to live alongside the bands and artists we document at Brown Band Archive. He played with many of the musicians we cover, in venues we revere, during moments we remember. His legacy is a reminder that Black music in Johannesburg ... and across the continent, doesn’t just entertain. It thinks. It resists. It tells stories.

And sometimes, like Morojele, it does all that at once... with a drumstick in one hand and a pen in the other.

Robala ka khotso.
Sleep in peace.

2025 Standard Bank Young Artist Award winners announced

A legacy worth celebrating

Winning an Standard Bank Young Artist Award (SBYA ) is more than a career milestone – it's a launchpad for bold artistic exploration and a gateway to opportunities that transcend borders. Each winner receives financial support, mentorship, and the chance to showcase their work at the National Arts Festival, ensuring that their creative journey continues to evolve and flourish... This year, two of the recipients are dear friends of this archive, and are truly artists deserving of this recognition. We congratulate our winners on this achievement. It would be great for me to note, Modise Sekgothe who received the SBYA for poetry, was/is also part of Johannesburg based Duo, Children of the Wind, a collaboration with poet, musician and guitarist, Itai Hakim.

Already lauded both at home and abroad, this year's recipients are bold, boundary-breaking voices, shaping South Africa's creative narrative on a global scale. The other recipients in other categories, are Nyakallo Maleke (Visual Arts), Siya Charles (Jazz), Asanda Ruda (Dance) & Calvin Ratladi (Theatre) .

Modise Sekgothe isn't just a poet—he's a shapeshifter of sound, rhythm, and form. From Washington DC to Gothenburg and Brussels, his words have reverberated on global stages, bending the boundaries of spoken word into new realms of performance art.

Limpopo-born Muneyi's music pulses with memory, myth, and meaning. His lyrics, inspired by his Makhulu (grandmother), explore love, loss, and identity, transcending language while remaining deeply rooted in the cadences of Tshivenda storytelling

Streaming Royalties Are Up—But Can Band Artists Cooperate for a Bigger Slice of the R400m Spotify pie?

Band Members From The Muffinz & Nomadci Orchestra take a group photo, After their gig at The Troyvile.

South African musicians pulled in a record R400 million from Spotify in 2024 - a 54% jump from the previous year, more than double. On the surface, that sounds like a win and it is to a degree. My concerns are for artists within bands, often solo entrepreneurs orbiting a shared brand, the question remains: how much of this pie is actually reaching the players behind the soundtracks?

Spotify’s latest report paints a picture of growing global hunger for African music. The data suggests, South African genres now feature on more than 220 million user-generated playlists, streamed over 600,000 hours a day. Behind the scenes, listener algorithms are feeding global audiences a steady diet of Amapiano, Afro-tech, and spiritual jazz. Music exports from Mzansi have soared by 104% over the past three years.

But the system is still built around individual artists, not collectives. So how do bands - often loosely organized collectives of freelancers - navigate this space meaningfully? And can we imagine a new model that lets band members move from the gig economy into real equity?

Let’s take this data seriously. Spotify says more SA artists are consistently earning between R100,000 and R500,000 annually. The number of artists in that range has doubled since 2022. That’s a cohort worth studying. How many are self-managed? How many are in bands? How many are quietly bearing the costs of session players while the revenue accrues to a single registered name?

Enter the co-op model. What if bands functioned less like pop-up collectives and more like mini-labels - artist-run, with transparent revenue splits, built-in systems for royalty tracking, and shared ownership over streaming profiles, live bookings, and merch?

Spotify is already opening new doors: integrated ticketing and merch sales have generated over $300 million globally, and telco partnerships are reducing data barriers in parts of the continent. South Africa’s scene could go further by formalizing band structures and accessing these channels as organized units - not scattered individuals.

Streaming can be empowering, but only if you’re plugged into the system. Who rides the wave? Most bands don’t own their distribution accounts. Many don’t even have joint agreements in writing with each other regarding all matters pertaining to the business of being in the music industry. . Without this foundation, the revenue - even if it comes - is hard to share fairly, with long term self sustainability mindset..

I've always been thinking about proper renumeration for band mates and still retaining enough money to build a fund for productions and projects. Since the lockdowns of 2020, our primarily live business model was under threat and concomitantly, definitely the income. We decided to start preparing our band-owned company to not only be focused on Live music show production but also digital distribution. We initiated a plan where the band/ functions as a boutique record label, releasing music from anyone of us who wanted that and extended the call to other artists. With a digital distribution partner, The Orchard, we essentially run a digital co-op where artists in bands, pool resources, funds, contacts, media, gear, and split earnings transparently, and register joint rights. This has had a benefit, helping mid-tier artists, which we realised we are outside of the band brand, and other upcoming live artists to harness DSPs growth without losing or surrendering control of their IP as individuals or fragmenting their Band or team.

We need structures where a band’s bass player can log in and see the numbers, not just the frontman. Where a single payout isn’t the end of the conversation, but the beginning of a strategy meeting.

Honestly the numbers are exciting. But what they really reveal is a moment of possibility: to build fairer models, rooted in ownership, transparency, and solidarity. The data is here, the music and people are here, the platforms - though not optimised - are also here. The demand is real. The revenue IS growing. Go get yours

The Black Power Station in Makhanda... Power to the People!

Venues And Spaces...

The town of Makhanda, previously known as Grahamstown, is a charming locale with a rich, albeit complex, history. The National Arts Festival, which began in 1974, has been a significant cultural event, attracting artists and visitors from around the world. However, outside of the festival period, the town experiences a lull, especially for the local community that isn't part of the university. The Black Power Station® emerged as a response to this cultural void, offering a vibrant space for continuous artistic expression and community engagement.

The Evolution of The Black Power Station®

Founded by Xolile Madinda, a local, previous artist and social activist, The Black Power Station® transformed an old power station into a thriving arts venue. This transformation was not instantaneous but rather a process steeped in history and community effort. The venue's origins date back to when it was part of a village before becoming an industrial site due to forced removals during the apartheid era. The power station itself symbolizes resilience and reclamation of space for cultural and artistic purposes.

Madinda, inspired during a night drive in 2014, envisioned the power station as the perfect location for an art studio and venue. Despite the challenges in securing the lease, a recommendation from the former National Arts Festival CEO, Tony Lankester, helped him gain access. Renovation efforts, supported by fellow artists, friends, and sponsors, turned the space into a colorful, afro-centric hub of creativity and intellectuality.

A Cultural Oasis

The Black Power Station® is more than just a live music venue. It is a sanctuary for those seeking solace from the hustle and bustle of city life. Madinda describes it as a place that encourages freedom of thought and expression, providing an alternative space for intellectual and creative exploration. Originally named Aroundhiphop Live Cafe, the venue’s rebranding to The Black Power Station® reflects its underlying message of black power and excellence.

Historical Context and Significance

Understanding the significance of The Black Power Station® requires delving into Makhanda's history. The town was renamed in honor of Makhanda, a Xhosa prophet and warrior who led an attack against the British in 1819. This renaming was a response to the town's colonial legacy, specifically the 1820 Settlers Foundation, which established the National Arts Festival. The foundation's origins lie in a period marked by violent confrontations between indigenous African people and European settlers, a dark chapter in the town's history.

The forced removals that transformed the village into an industrial site are a testament to the resilience of the local community. The Black Power Station® not only redeems the space from its industrial past but also honors the memory of those who were displaced. It serves as a reminder of the importance of reclaiming cultural spaces and preserving history through art.

Jazz and Black Consciousness at Amanzi sessions.

Thirty years into democracy in SA, many young people feel that there is an alcohol problem among black people and conversations need to be held amongst the youth by the youth. The members of Afrikanist Jazz band iPhupho L’ka Biko took it upon themselves to start a monthly session to do just this.

They are using their music to affect change and inspire young people to slow it down before it is too late.

The band, in partnership with The Forge, is hosting community shows fortnightly titled Amanzi Sessions: Love, Healing & Resistance, which are sessions addressing the ritualized mass consumption of alcohol in our communities. This is after the band members say they witnessed a rise in young people drowning in alcohol addiction.

Band leader Nhlanhla Ngqaqu says after they heard a report about nine girls and 12 boys aged between 13 and 21 died at Enyobeni tavern, in the Eastern Cape, they decided enough was enough.

“13-year-olds frequent taverns and that’s the social state of young people in this country. The drinking culture/groove culture is used as an escape from our daily lived realities. To escape the disappointments brought forth by the democratic dispensation. It is also a personal story for the band, as the majority of the members are from these communities and have also fallen victim to alcohol in some way shape, or form,” says Nhlanhla.

The music sessions will also feature other artists outside the band, academics and activists too. The first session that happened in April at The Forge in Braamfontein featured economist, author, and former Talk show radio host Ayabonga Cawe to have an open discussion about how detrimental alcohol is and how it sets people back.

Nhlanhla says he has been making observations in the industry on how people, especially artists gets hooked on alcohol. With some artists, he says it starts with them getting booked and then getting free alcohol, which becomes the start of a very dark union with alcohol.

“For the aspect of it being personal, as a band or as an artist when you get booked you get hospitality rider. And out of the hospitality rider you get also to request alcohol, that’s how it starts. So, we know that there are other options on the menu apart from alcohol. In these sessions, we focus on love, healing, and resistance because that is all it takes to have discipline.”

This is not their first initiative they used their status as artists to be the voice for the voiceless. The band was also at the forefront during the Fees Must Fall March inspired by Steve Biko’s words: “You need to free your mind first before you can realise the freedom.”

Nhlanhla says if there is no change of thinking, there is no way that things can change in our society.

“That’s the kind of covenant we have as a band. We want to conscientise the people in our community and to spiritually awaken because you learn that what happened in the African continent was to eradicate the connection that we have with God and our Ancestors was distorted.

“The interesting about alcohol and fees must fall was that there were spaces where the ‘fallists’ would meet and most of those spaces would be alcohol spaces like Kitcheners bar. After a day of protesting, the ‘fallists’ would go to that place and deliberate about the way forward.”

They intend to expand these talks and invite more academics, Nhlanhla adds.

So far, young people attend in numbers and engage as spaces where love and healing are discussed and dissected are needed in society

Urban Village's "Ubaba" & Celebrating masculinities.

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

L8 Antique Wins LATEST battle of the Bands @ Baileys.

L8 Antique is a five-piece band that encapsulates the cultural diversity of South Africa, through a music style called Shugumisa. Their music is strongly rooted in many diverse South African tribes. It is also influenced by urban genres, giving the band a progressive, world-class feel. L8 Antique has been described as the evolution of African culture in an upbeat society. The band recently dominated at a battle of the bands hosted by Bailey's, a primier live music venue east of Johannesburg.

The story of this band is a story of perseverance and triumph in Johannesburg, where the most successful hunters are those who hunt their dreams. The band was formed by Lebo Mahlatji in 2007, in Alexandra Township. It has since shared stages with the likes of Pops Mohammed, Kwani Experience, Lira, Thandiswa Mazwai, Simphiwe Dana,The Mahotella Queens, Fifi, Queen Godis (USA), BLK Jacks, The Brother Moves On, Vusi Mahlasela and McCoy Mrubata. It has also appeared in prominent live music events such as The International Arts Alive Festival, Jazz On The Lake and the Wits Art & Literature Festival. L8 Antique was also on the line-up of the upcoming Standard Bank Joy of Jazz, which featured the likes of Manu Dibango and other celebrated international artists.

In 2011, L8 Antique was voted Johannesburg’s No. 1 band by the Gauteng Department of Sports Arts Culture & Recreation. Their music, Str8 Tribal, was featured in the film Cast The First Stone, on DSTV. Their song Mnyamane was written as a stand against xenophobia and featured in a documentary called "Somehow Different", addressing the same theme. The band has also been recorded live for the upcoming documentary, WorldSouth. In 2017, L8 Antique was a semi-finalist in the Afropunk Battle of the Bands. In the same period their music also featured in the award-winning Breaking Ballet campaign, produced by TBWA for Joburg Ballet, in conjunction with The Department of Water and Sanitation. 2024 L8 ANTIQUE won the Bailey's Battle Of The Bands being the only Black band in the competition.

Congratulations are due to the band members for this win, that saw the band enjoy a cash prize, and some other goodies such as gear and studio time.

Kujenga Nominated For SA Music Awards, Best Jazz Album Category.

BCUC wins prestigious international award .

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.

R15 million worth of Music Instruments, found "Hidden" in KZN.

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?".

Infiltrating the enigmatic Blk Jks.

An Intriguing Dialogue with the Legendary South African Band

Imagine a moment frozen in time, where the name "BLK JKS" reverberates within the hallowed halls of a record label boardroom. The mere mention of their name feels like a seismic explosion, designed to captivate and entice us to sign on the dotted line. As I sat there, surrounded by the music industry elite, the white executives at Just Music let slip an intriguing tidbit - BLK JKS, a local South African band, had caught the attention of the esteemed American indie label, "Secretly Canadian." Just Music had managed to secure the exclusive licensing rights for their captivating music, introducing the band's unique sound to the South African market.

Curiosity consumed me. Were these whispers of underappreciated, underrated musicians from our own homeland true? Did they face the harsh reality of being underbooked, undernourished pariahs, their music prophetic but overlooked? It seemed that, as the saying goes, prophets are seldom honored in their own hometowns, and I yearned to explore the role of these musical visionaries.

In my pursuit of understanding, I stumbled upon a remarkable passage nestled within the pages of Bongani Madondo's literary masterpiece, "Sigh, the Beloved Country." It was on page 254 that Madondo eloquently referred to BLK JKS as the vanguards of the akashic fields and those parts of it that concern their peers, weaving their sonic tapestry in such a way that they influenced an entire generation of South African live musicians of a similar kind. Their groundbreaking work had sparked a renaissance, empowering fellow artists to explore new territories and revealing the untapped potential of the South African band on the global stage. They were the pied pipers, leading us, the brown bands, to embrace the uncharted waters of artistic expression, all inspired by the trailblazing spirit of BLK JKS.

Enthralled by their profound impact, I embarked on a personal odyssey, immersing myself in the magnetic allure of BLK JKS' music and their lyrical prowess. It became clear to me that their artistry was nothing short of prophetic, i'd found i was prone to interpreting similar observations and synthesising them into belief that some of these musicans could completely pass off as prophets.

Driven by my undying passion for their craft, and now perhaps to prove myself wrong, about these suspicions of something supernatural going on there, I endeavored to secure an interview for the esteemed Brown Band Archive. Armed with a set of carefully crafted questions, I reached out to the band. And to my delight, the gentlemen graciously agreed to engage in a WhatsApp interview, bridging the gap between artist and enthusiast.

Stay tuned as I unravel the essence of BLK JKS through their own words, providing an intimate glimpse into their creative journey and the impact they continue to make on the music industry.

Q1: The long hiatus between albums, what transpired during that period? Can you share the story behind the stolen album and the profound impact it had? Furthermore, how did you approach the creation of your new album after such a significant time gap, and what were the themes you sought to explore?

BLK JKS: Ah, the ebb and flow of time. The stolen album was a challenging twist of fate, testing our resilience as a band. It served as a pivotal moment, an opportunity for growth and introspection. And as for the long gap, we allowed ourselves the freedom to let things align naturally, to create sincere art. Themes? We embarked on a journey of artistic honesty, unbound by conscious exploration.

Q2: Losing a band member can be a transformative experience. How did this loss shape your unity as a band and influence the repair of your musical brand? In addition, what led to the decision of welcoming new musicians into the band instead of relying solely on sessionists, and how did this impact your creative dynamics?

BLK JKS: The loss of our band member taught us invaluable lessons about unity and the strength we find within ourselves. It propelled us to repair our musical brand by staying true to our essence. The decision to fuse new members into our collective was driven by the desire for fresh energy and diverse perspectives. This infusion of new voices has invigorated our creative dynamics, fostering a sense of collective ownership in our musical journey.

Q3: Your song "Mme kelapile" carries a powerful cry for help. Can you delve into the underlying message and the significance behind the choice of title? What societal challenges and disappointments does the song address?

BLK JKS: Ah, the profound cry for help imbued within "Mme kelapile." The title holds the weight of weariness and hunger, serving as a reflection of the collective sentiment in the face of unfulfilled promises. It represents the profound hunger for change, for a brighter tomorrow. We channel the disappointments stemming from the government's failure to alleviate poverty, echoing the weariness felt by many.

Q4: Your album features uniquely funky song titles. Take us on a journey to the genesis of one such title, "Yo-yo - the Mandela effect / black aurora Cusp Druids ascending." What ideas and emotions were you attempting to convey through this title, and why does it hold a special place amongst the band's favorites?

BLK JKS: the enigma of "Yo-yo - the Mandela effect / black aurora Cusp Druids ascending." Within those words lie a universe of uncertainty and the complexities of our passions. It encapsulates the quest for truth in a world where it often eludes us. This particular title resonated deeply with us due to its unexpected arrival after a lengthy period of gestation. It represents the vibrancy and depth we strive to infuse into our sound.

Q5: Music has always been a powerful means of communication. Do you subscribe to the notion of music as a medium for transmitting messages? If so, what messages does BLK JKS seek to convey through your unique blend of sounds and lyrics?

BLK JKS: Indeed, music possesses the innate ability to communicate on profound levels. It serves as a conduit for emotions, stories, and ideas. While we do not adhere to a specific message, our music aims to speak honestly, evoking a range of emotions and fostering connections. It is a soulful expression of our collective experiences and an invitation for listeners to embark on their own transformative journeys.

Q6: Your song "Mmao waTseba" features moments of pause, silence, and reverse. Can you shed light on the symbolism behind this composition? How does it tie into your contemplations of time, existence, and the human experience?

BLK JKS: "Mmao waTseba," a sonic exploration of time and the enigmatic human experience. Within its passages lie reflections on our shared existence, viewed from a voyeuristic vantage point. It serves as a reminder of the intricate tapestry that binds humanity together. The deliberate inclusion of moments of pause, silence, and reverse beckons us to ponder the intricacies of time, the before, during, and after of our species on this boundless rock we call home.

Q7: Your song "Iqwira" seems to address the topic of breaking free from artificial intelligence, and the excitement with machine learning. . Could you share the inspiration behind this song and the significance of including Madala Kunene in the creative process? What powerful message lies within "Iqwira"?

BLK JKS: "Iqwira" emerges as a powerful tale, portraying the battle between witchdoctor and witch as a metaphor for the internalized racism we have been taught. It unearths the disheartening reality of how some Black individuals, unknowingly, perpetuate racism, becoming anti-Black themselves. We strive to crack the code, to break free from these shackles that constrict our collective spirit. Madala Kunene's involvement was instrumental in unlocking the essence of this potent song, infusing it with his wisdom and artistic prowess, a cautionary tale to temper our excitement with Progress such as artificial intelligence.

Q8: Somewhere the music is described as an "obsidian Rock audio anthology" carrying with it a sense of mystique. In the realm of crystal lore, obsidian rock is associated with dispelling negative energy. How does this title resonate with the essence of your music? Furthermore, how does BLK JKS, as musicians, navigate the territory of preserving humanity through your art?

BLK JKS: Like obsidian, our music possesses the power to dispel negative energies that permeate our world and the minds of defeated hosts habouring negative energy. It transcends time, connecting with the core of human experience and beyond. As musicians, we strive to create profound and honest compositions that bridge gaps, question norms associated with ego, and evoke the essence of our shared humanity. Through our craft, we endeavor to preserve the human spirit, inviting listeners to explore the depths of their own existence.

Q9: The album's title hints at the notion that humans didn't always exist and won't exist indefinitely. Can you elaborate on the conceptual significance behind the title? Additionally, why is it crucial for young South Africans to embrace the concept of the Mandela Effect?

BLK JKS: The album's title serves as a thought-provoking reflection on our transient existence. It beckons us to contemplate our place in the vast tapestry of time and prompts introspection. The Mandela Effect, hinted within the album, challenges our perceptions of reality and invites critical thinking. Embracing the Mandela Effect is vital for the youth, as it fosters a questioning mindset, an exploration of the multifaceted layers that shape our understanding of the world.

This interview was conducted over whatsapp and the questions and responses have been edited to suit an experimental longform interview but still maintaining the essence of the conversation.

Hugh Masekela inducted into Ertegun Hall of Fame.

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.

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