Fayard Nicholas: born 104 years ago today

The late Fayard Nicholas, elder and leading choregraphic imagination of the Nicholas Brothers, was born 104 years ago today. The Nicholas Brothers were the most brilliantly accomplished dancers ever to feature in American movies. They originated many of the dance moves later credited to white stars such as Donald O’Connor, Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly. But their meticulously conceived dance interludes were often treated by directors as dispensable asides,  or, most egregiously, supplied to cinemas in the US South with cut-tabs so that racist audiences would not be offended by displays of black excellence. When your oupa reminisces about watching movies like Stormy Weather at the bioscope, this is what he saw:

Take five minutes out of your day today to watch it, remember the genius hidden from history by racism, and offer tribute. Oh, and be amazed…


Thabang Tabane’s Matjale takes malombo across all kinds of borders

Thabang front.jpg
Thabang Tabane

Grandmothers are powerful. It was the late Poet Laureate Keorapetse Kgositsile’s grandmother, Madikeledi, who planted in her grandchild the love for deep SeTswana tradition and language which became the root of his work. And it was Thabang Tabane’s grandmother, Matjale, who endowed her son, the late Philip Nchipi Tabane, with a rich legacy of traditional healing sounds, and her grandson with the spirit he brings to his drumming. “She used to call me that I must be with her at all times,” Thabang told Afropop Worldwide music writer Banning Eyre (http://afropop.org/articles/thabang-tabane-introduces-his-debut-album ) “So I think that’s where my father saw this, that I am a boy who can take this thing further. Because no-one taught me how to play drums…music was in me. So I think that’s the calling I had with her.”

If you know malombo music, your image of Thabang is probably of a very young man, enriching with all manner of percussion his father’s dazzling, flamboyant, guitar and song. But Thabang Thabane has not been that youngster for a long time. He’s 39, and over the dozen years before Philip’s death in May this year he took an increasingly front-of stage role, when first the death of the elder Tabane’s wife, and then his father’s declining health, made performing increasingly difficult. Thabang began working on his first album as leader two years ago, recording it in the family’s Mamelodi home. But the stresses of his father’s final time meant that it wasn’t ready for release until September. Now it’s out (https://itunes.apple.com/za/album/matjale/1427593376 ), and named for Matjale.Matjale.jpg

There have been many attempts to define and ‘own’ Malombo music, from the highly reductive labels ‘music accompanying Venda exorcism rites’ and ‘sound of the malombo drum’, to the various sonic concepts resulting from the break-up and re-formation of popular malombo groups under different leaders. The music cannot be confined by any of these.

For a start, it can’t be reduced to the word ‘music’ – at its origin, malombo represents not simply the sounds accompanying certain ceremonies, but the entire philosophy that those ceremonies embody. Tabane the elder rejected any attempt to call his work ‘music’ (never mind ‘jazz’), and his son continues that line of argument: “Malombo is spirit…healing…The stage is the platform for me to heal people [because] my grandmother is with me all the time.”

The most detailed study of the malombo sound so far was undertaken by Dr Sello Galane in his 2010 doctoral thesis (https://repository.up.ac.za/bitstream/handle/2263/24447/Complete.pdf?sequence=9 ). If you’re interested, and have not yet done so, read it. Galane acknowledges the syncretism that performing malombo in modern social settings and overseas brought. He also traces a dozen phases in the development of the malombo sound, with Phillip Tabane as its undisputed architect.

Matjale brings us what’s probably a thirteenth phase in the music’s development. The album comprises 10 tracks, mostly Thabang’s own compositions or developments of ancestral themes, with some drawn from his father’s work (Father and Mother and Ke Mmone, the latter based on Ke Utlwile) and one Venda song taught to Thabang by veteran percussionist Mabi Thobejane (Nyanda Yeni; see the video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5HpESss0PE   )

So what does this new malombo bring? There’s much that feels faithful to the music’s roots: the prominence of rich percussion textures and the focus of lyrics on important social themes, for example. Nyanda Yeni talks of drought; Babatshwenya attacks xenophobia in his home town: “We are all one; we should not do this…” There is still dazzling guitar work, this time from Sibusile Xaba. He’s clearly been influenced by Philip Tabane, but equally clearly is a voice in his own right. Xaba’s guitar work is edgier: less

Sibusile & Thabang
Guitarist Sibusile Xaba (centre) with Thabang Tabane

flamboyant, but quietly subversive of any expectations your ears might bring. And then there’s the stuff that’s new. As my colleague Kwanele Sosibo (https://mg.co.za/article/2018-08-03-00-reserved-thabang-tabane-wants-to-keep-his-sound-simple , and who also wrote the album’s thoughtful liner text) has noted, the sounds of Thulani Ntuli’s electric bass feature in a way you’d not have heard in historic malombo, even in its most popular incarnations.

The bass does two things. It provides the groove that younger ears crave. “I know that mdala’s music could be difficult for people…I want [this] to be simple on people’s ears,” he told Sosibo. Ntuli, though, is a sensitive enough player not to shove in front of rhythm or lyrics.

Additionally, the bass reaches outwards, underlining a shared sonic space with pan-African and diasporic sounds. That’s most explicit on the opener, Richard, a dedication to the highly influential Camerounian bassist Richard Bona. Tabane says Bona’s onstage discipline reminds him of his father’s stern approach, and his innovation has constantly impressed. Another track, Freedom Station – that surely has to be named for Steve Mokoena’s sorely missed music spot? – even flirts briefly with soul. The final novel element is Thabang’s voice. He has told interviewers he never thought of himself as a vocalist until a Xhosa healer from Amampondo (with whom he was working in the combined ensemble PedXulu) urged him to release the “inner voice” with which his mind accompanied his drumming.

Richard image.jpg
Album art for the track Richard

Thabang sings nothing like his father. Where Philip bent his voice around phrases with a rounded sound that was almost a yodel, Thabang’s singing declares him a drummer. His declamations, growls, whispers and breaths don’t only convey compelling messages, they also enrich and embellish the rhythms.

Thabang Thabane wants his music to heal, and that it surely does – including providing balm for the ache of emptiness his father’s bereft audiences feel. Because this is, unmistakeably, malombo that genre fans can embrace with joy. But it’s malombo for today – malombo crossing borders: generational, musical and geographic. It would never have worked for this album to simply ‘cover’ the malombo tradition. Philip Tabane was an impossible act to follow because he wasn’t any kind of ‘act’; he was 100% authentic. With Matjale, Thabang Tabane has shown us that he is, too.Thabang back

Ariel Zamonsky, Juana Pires Rafael and the spaces between genres

Do genre categories help us to find music we’d like, or hide music we might love? A new album from the bass/voice duo helps us interrogate the labels.


Thobekile Mbanda

Why can’t we just let a song be a song? The Women’s Music Collective concert in Melville last Sunday (30 September) presented a mind-opening diversity of music, from Joyce Moholoagae’s dramatic, moving rendition of Purcell’s baroque When I am Laid in Earth, to Clare Loveday’s Cycles (originally written in synergy with a Nandipha Mntambo dance performance), Thobekile Mbanda’s original,  tradition-inspired, iLobola, and Nongoma Ndlovu’s neo-soul-flavoured Hot Mess.

“When people believe in boundaries, they become part of them.” Don Cherry

See the problem there? If I want to give you some indication of what certain songs sounded like, I usually have to paste on some label or other relating it to a genre you might know …But genre labels can easily blur what makes a particular piece of music distinctive. The academic concept of music genre has multiple resonances: about the listening communities that coalesce around genres, the social power hierarchies they can embody, and more. But mostly, in the world of modern music-making, ‘genre’ is crudely equated with ‘marketing category’. And if you don’t fit one, the shops, websites and venues may literally have nowhere to put you.

(The Francophone musical world doesn’t have quite the same problem. As obituaries following the death of Charles Aznavour last week, eg  https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/oct/01/charles-aznavour-obituary explained, the French have a whole genre called chanson: secular songs embodying elements of storytelling, either emotional or social. The French word literally means ‘song’, and both Ndlovu’s and Mbanda’s works would have sat quite comfortably there, without any need to cram them into some marketing category. Chanson lets a song just be a song.)

juana Pires Rafael

Another of the performers last Sunday was vocalist Juana Pires Rafael who, with partner bassist Ariel Zamonsky, has just released the album Entre dos Mundos (between two worlds) https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/arielzamonsky . Zamonsky is a familiar sight on bandstands, working with everybody including Nduduzo Makathini and Mandla Mlangeni (who get a shout-out in a track title). With Rafael, he’s begun touring as a duo, and their track Vidala Para Mi Sombra also features on the soundtrack of the recent South African movie Catching Feelings https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dMpjFICgtM&t=0s&list=PLkLimRXN6NKxvPFGllGWei00rKqAuCFIV&index=14

Ariel Zamonsky

The sleeve notes give us the broad outlines of the story in the songs: people seeking their identity while in another country (Zamonsky, like Rafael, was born in Argentina, but he has been in South Africa since 2005; she joined him in 2016.) “The music’, says the sleeve notes, “can transmit most of our interrogations and findings in a way words would never be able to, by stripping the ideas of their grammatical sphere, and giving them an ethereal, spiritual and energetic level beyond our comprehension.”

“I’ll play it first and tell you what it is later.” Miles Davis

Ariel album cover
Entre Dos Mundos

All 11 tracks – six, co-compositions; five, by Zamonsky – feature gorgeous improvisation from voice and instruments, and I could quite happily hang an unapologetic ‘jazz’ label on it for that reason. The quality of the imagining and playing certainly merits it: the rhythm section features three of South Africa’s most empathetic co-players: Yonela Mnana on piano and Tumi Mogorosi or Siphiwe Shiburi on drums. But I’m hesitant to pin down Entre dos Mundos like that, because I think it could also speak powerfully to audiences who might not find ‘jazz’ a persuasive designation.

Zamonsky’s bass displays the sensitivity and range we’ve come to know well, from the solid, steady underpinning he gives to a multitracked Rafael on Sunny Day, to his intricate exchanges with Mnana and Mogorosi on Mi Alma. Rafael’s voice holds both a breathy delicacy (something that gives Mnana the opportunity for matching, fragile, light-handed excursions) and a capacity for melancholic darkness. She uses both, intelligently and to moving effect, interpreting lyrics and soaring in wordless vocalese.

Mnana, Zamonsky, Rafael

If you like Latin American music, the Zamba Del Inmigrante offers that rhythmic flavour most strongly – with a beautifully strong, contained, solo from Zamonsky. If you’re seeking a more South African jazz feel, Transkei has the chords. But this is essentially liminal music, quite deliberately pushing at the borders of genres and origins: that’s what it’s about. As listening, it’s compelling: sensual in the richness of its textures, without compromising the thoughtfulness of its guiding ideas. And worth adding to your collection based not on any preconceptions about what genre it fits, but rather based on Ellington’s aphorism that there are really only two kinds of music: good, and the other sort. This is definitely the former.